As with ALL Starbucks products, it was stupid pricey, but so awesome, and I was determined to keep the kids busy so I could maybe finish reading the 300 pages I have left of my monthly book club book in time for our meeting Wednesday — my ONE PERSONAL GOAL IN LIFE at this very busy time being that I read the book-club book in time for the meeting…, for Wednesday. GAH! Why did DENGUY have to pick the longest book EVER for this month’s read? Good thing the book is AH-MAY-ZING.

As I was saying, the Monkey’s new colouring book is awesome — especially for a kid who really is a natural artist. I mean, ALL kids are natural artists, but she’s a little more artsy, more “artistically mature” than others. She’s not one to kick a ball or master the monkey bars (despite her internet name), but the girl can DRAW.

That said, I was a little surprised at how she tackled the book’s prompt to “make a strawberry cake”:

She coloured the whole thing black, as you can see. And added, erm, a strawberry.

Closeup on the strawberry….

I have no words for this strawberry. Well, I do. Have words. But, they don’t need to be said. Do they.

She fared a little better with the, erm, cherry pie….

I love all the delicate details — her trademark. They always make me go “hmmm…,” and “wow”….

I never finished the 300 pages of my book. I was too busy laughing at strawberries. But, we all had a great time together, and there are two more days ’til Wednesday.

I’m a bit of an anxious basket case lately. I kind of always am when fall turns to winter, and the smells of the shifting seasons — damp leaves, home cooking, smoke from neighborhood fireplaces — emerge full force, subtly bringing me back to the dark, prenatal depressions of my pregnancies. And it’s togetherness that’s getting me by. Nightly “CUDDAH”s (cuddles) with the Rascal, reading fairy books in a fairy nook with the Monkey, playing a family game of Hungry Hippos on a Sunday afternoon….

Monkey’s favourite doll played the yellow hippo while I captured the moment…. For some unknown reason, she’s named the doll “Marshmallow”…

Again, no words.

The monkey loves making beds for “Marshmallow,” and she carries “Marshmallow” EVERYWHERE with her….

I love it. It’s adorable.

I LOVE my hilariously talented, quirky little Monkey.

Seriously, no words.

That picture is so last year, like, when Jay and Whitney were still together. But I didn’t have time to find any current pics of them. But I DID have time to watch THIS WEEK’s episode just now. And I just want to say that, if Elle Magazine wants to interview bloggers — because, as Joe Zee (Elle’s creative director) puts it, “blogs are the places where news is breaking right now” — they should come TO ME, and my SLIPPERS…. Remember these?

Still wearing ‘em! There’s nothing these two less famous bloggers have that I don’t, right? I blog in my pajamas, too, and shop with my mother…? No? Yes? Elle?

If I don’t get into Elle Magazine, can I at least get on X-WEIGHTED? I need to lose these last 15. Or maybe I’ll just curl up on my couch with my Puffins and make twitter lists, instead. It’s safer here in my comfort zone…. Except right now. Because Josh just made clam chowder, and it STINKS in here.

So, I do have a little list JUST for this blog because my poor blog gets pushed aside so often these days for other more “pressing” things, and this really shouldn’t be, really saddens me, really has to stop because I love blogging…, and if one more thing goes to sh*t because I’m working too much, then something’s got to give. Because DOGGONE IT, I’m important.

So my list, ahem.

1. I love the way Rascal says “banana” — “badanan,” as in, “MO BADANAN, MAMA! MO BADANAN.”

2. Rascal eats too many badanans.

3. The Monkey is addicted to hugging. In the middle of the Swine Flu pandemic, she’s hugging strangers (not that it really matters because Swine Flu is air born).

4. I had Kabocha squash for dinner.

5. Rascal can count to two now. It’s official: “One, Doo, ONE!”

6. Monkey is obsessed with drawing me without a body because, apparently, “it’s too hard” to draw my body….

7. WHICH I choose to take as a compliment, because why not and DOGGONE IT!

8. I’m the disembodied turbaned head on the far left of the drawing — next to me is the artiste herself, her brother, and a caterpillar.

8. I am NOT too old to love The City, OR The Hills….

9. I also love the Glee, The Office, The Tudors, So You Think You Can Dance and Survivor.

10. I did watch V, but I will never watch it again.

11. Just like I will never watch Fringe again.

12. Or the Y&R, which I quit a month ago, WHICH should be a post in itself because it’s a big f-ing deal.

13. I want Russell to win Survivor.

14. I can’t end on #13 not because it’s “bad luck” but because it’s just a weird number to end on.

15. #15 is a better number to end on than #14.

16. I always go for the odd numbers.

17. OCD.

18. But, #18 is an ideal number to end LISTS on.

19. Even though it’s an odd number.

20. I think I’m into even now.

Yes, it started off well enough. But, in the end? FAIL. Red hot fat X FAIL. Starting with one chocolate bar, and then another, and another. AND THE HOMEMADE PUMPKIN SEEDS. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I COULDN’T STOP.

Among the chocolates — a little bit of this….

And a little bit of that….

A little bit of…this….

And a little bit of that….

And, in case you’re wondering, that dirty stuffed animal that Rascal the IRRESISTIBLE LION (”ROAR, Mama, ROAR!”) is holding? That’s Muhneh. I don’t think you’ve met Muhneh, have you? It’s definitely time you met Muhneh.

He’s the gift I brought home from BlogHer ‘09 for the Monkey. Found him in the airport in Chicago — and thought, “PERFECT! She’ll LOVE it.” Turns out she was “meh” about it. So, she graciously gave it up to her brother when he fell in LOVE with it one day. And the love affair has thrived to this very day. Why? Because, I presume, Muhneh looks JUST LIKE HIS MAMA’S “Muhneh” — MINDEN!

These days, Muhneh goes everywhere with us. Everywhere….

Rascal’s Muhneh was much fluffier when I first brought him home. Had whiskers and everything. But he’s been washed (and mistakenly put in the dryer) a few too many times (never enough — he stinks).

Despite the vast depths I fell off the wagon, it was a good Halloween.

And, despite the fact that I was tasked with job of carving the hardest pumpkin in the history of pumpkins WITH a nasty case of tendonitis IN the right index finger, I managed to carve a little somethin’-somethin’ not so shabby….

So, how was your Halloween? Was it spooky? Sugary? Chocolaty? Or, was it lentil-y (byatch)? What did you do with your candy? We got it out of the house today (a day too late). So, your regularly scheduled EPITOME-OF-HEALTH cheaty should be resuming shortly — after some minor, erm, technical difficulties yet to be resolved. Damn sugar. CRACK.

Love!

xo Haley-O

That said, I have something very exciting to share with you. Rascal has A NEW COAT.

In case you didn’t know, he was wearing THIS COATASTROPHE that Josh proudly brought home from Winners last month….

Here it is to the front with better lighting (so you get the full effect)….

Thank Gods of Fashion, my sister stepped in and loaned us THIS much more stylish GAP ski jacket….

Ahhhh, much better. Well, anything’s better, really, than brown and puke-green-and-yellow PLAID. Poor guy. That is “plaid,” right? I should know, because I’m supposed to be “trendie,” but I don’t. And I’m not — trendy, that is, as you know…. Am SUCH a schlepper.

So, this is my attempt at a blog post — and, more so, my excuse for posting a picture of Rascal’s ridiculously adorable crazy-round fluorescent-blond head, OY! — while my mind is a total WHIRLWIND, literally. Can you tell? Enough.

We’ll spend more time together later.

xo Haley-O

See, just like Chef Gustave says in Ratatouille — “ANYONE can COOK,” which I don’t entirely believe, by the way — ANYONE can BLOG!

So, checkit. I got to take a walk through the Monkey’s Kindergarten class today, and I nearly FELL OVER when I saw this painting she made and the caption under it….

Now for the caption she gave it:

My Brother Playing in the Garden.

Bwah! Her brother playing in the garden? How sweet of her to think of him when she’s at school. But, ummmm….

Okay, now it’s your turn. As BLOGGERS par excellence, YOU are going to make me a more fitting caption for this painting. K?

Ready, set, CAPTION ME!

Why this new change? Why the many changes of late? Well, Cameron Frye of Ferris Beuller’s Day Off puts it perfectly:

I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold to determine the course of my life. I’m going to take a stand. I’m going to defend it. Right or wrong, I’m going to defend it.

Check it — the awesomely intense version:

“I’m going to take a stand.” Remember that? In the movie, Cameron repeats this over and over and over again. And, for some reason, this line has stuck with me ALL THESE YEARS. I’M GOING TO TAKE A STAND.

So, yeah, I am. “I am not going to sit on my ass as the events that affect me unfold.” I’m going to grab my addictions and excuses by the throat and throw them the heck out of my life. Because it’s time to take a stand and get my body, my energy, my peace of mind back — as much as I possibly can, that is, without going crazy.

I’m going to take a stand. I’m going to take a stand, man.

First thing’s first, I’m going to take back my time.

Even though I’ve never been organized in my whole entire life, I’m now officially ORGANIZED(ish).

FINALLY, I replaced that messy disheveled basket full of bills and fliers and school stuff and work stuff, which we’ve had on our wee kitchen desk for years now, with two beautiful file holders and some folders to match. So I now have a lovely place to put all my and Josh’s and the kids’ stuff. Because, I have learned, when you have two school(ish)-aged kids, my GOD, you cannot NOT be organized — even if the very CORE of your SOUL rejects organization! Also FINALLY, I’ve taken out my trusty BusyBodyBook — a complementary copy I received last summer — and I’m (did I mention finally?) putting it to good use.

So, I’m doing it. I’m taking a stand. I’m taking a stand, man, against ALL my freakin’ obstacles: my addictions, my disorganization, my laziness, fears, anxieties, all my waiting (FOR WHAT?) to make changes.

And, what do you know? EUREKA, I have time to workout. I have time to read. I have time to cook nice dinners (unfortunately I haven’t had time YET to blog about them). I’m not OVERWHELMED all the time by the loads of work and chimes of new emails every two seconds. EVERY TWO SECONDS….

I’m not the only one who’s benefiting, by all this, by the way….

Now that I’ve replaced that ratty kitchen basket with fancy folders, someone has a new bed….

(MARGE! is so unphotogenic. She really isn’t this creepy.)

And as soon as she leaves, someone else (who is much more photogenic) also has a new bed….

HENCE between my recent reunion with YOGA and my new-found commitment to organizing my life (and my family’s) after 35 years of flying flustered by the seat of my pants, I’m feeling pretty good — or maybe I’m just, like, bipolar or manic or something, which is totally possible, but whatevs ‘cuz it’s working for me right now.

One day at a time, I’m taking a stand. And I’m really tempted to quote Oprah here, but I won’t. Then again, I’m still as indecisive as ever (some things are unchangeable), so I think I will: Yes, I’m “living my best life.” Eek.

Btw, you can vote for my “LOL” HERE!

Off to bed. One day I’ll start getting to bed at a reasonable hour. Baby steps.

See, I’ve kind of had enough of fear, anxiety and stress lately. It’s, like, ENOUGH. The stress, guilt and anxiety of motherhood, work, work, work and work is just too much. And it’s not anybody’s fault but my own. Because, when I look at the whole picture, it is seriously ALL GOOD! It’s ME. ME. ME who needs to CHILL OUT.

Anyway, as you may know from prior posts, I don’t get a lot of sleep because it’s hard to sleep with a two-year-old ON TOP OF YOU. And this overtiredness, as my pregnancy-depression psychiatrist used to repeatedly remind me, is a recipe for major anxiety. INDEED, I’ve always been a big believer that the body is WISE and produces emotions like anxiety to tell us something needs to change.

Of course, there are definitely external factors involved, too. All the hype about the swine flu doesn’t help: MILLIONS TO BE INFECTED BY THE PLAGUE, the newspaper headlines read. Egad. Media. Buggers. Fear mongers. All this media hype is just a constant, anxious reminder to me that life is so damn fragile.

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate? Gahh! I was all set to vaccinate, and then my usually-pro-vaccination pediatrician said “HELL NO”! Gahh! (And I’m not allowed to research medical things on the internet…because I get anxious.)

My throat — it HURTS. This better not be THE PLAGUE.

BUT.

Yesterday I went to yoga class.

And it all went away.

The fog of fear and noise and guilt that I’ve been living under every day for months (I haven’t been to class in 4 months) miraculously lifted. And it’s possible I reached what might be termed BLISS.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not being hokey here, even though I’m all for hokey. I’m not saying I reached any kind of spiritual-nirvana-type bliss while standing on my head or bending backwards with one leg up, no. Just a kind of JOY. I did something for myself. I BREATHED. I stretched. I enjoyed. I laughed. I joked. A lot. I was SO excited to be there. And to think I’d been dreading it. To think I’d had to FORCE myself to get to that yoga class — didn’t think I had the time in my day, and didn’t think I could lie there or sit there or stretch or breathe without writhing in anxiety. But, it was so easy.

In the hour-and-forty-five-minute class, we did a full forty-five minutes of pranayama — or breathing exercises — which is intense after four months of NOTHING. And I felt relaxed, and lighter and stronger and tighter in the right places and looser in the right places than what feels like YEARS.

I’d been WONDERING how to increase my energy, and here was my answer loud and clear. I’d been WONDERING how to stop racing against time, and here was my answer. It may have taken an hour and forty five minutes from my day, but the “presence” it gave me lasted throughout the day and made me feel as if I had all the time in the world for everything.

It was a big epiphany realizing I could escape my anxiety, ground myself in the here and now, and feel so damn good, at ANY TIME, with just a little breathing or sitting quietly and — from now on, come hell or high water — a weekly yoga class.