work it out to work it out.

Today my yoga pants were grey with the faintest black pattern running through them.  My shirt was the usual.  Black.  From Lululemon.  Sportsbra was the famous TATATAMER.  Today i didn't feel all that tame.

Bend and reach and bend and reach.  Lift.  Lift!  Move to the right.  Now move to the left.  Bend and reach.  Bend and reach.  Side step.  Lift one leg.  Now the other.  Jump.  Jump.  And bend and reach.  Bend and reach.

Felt like I had been doing those cardio moves all day long today.  In reality, as I checked my watch, it was only 7:40.  AM.  And bend.  Bend.  Bend.

The music was pumping.  I was the only one in the house who was up so far.  I wondered why no one was bothered by the music.  Blurred lines would wake me out of a dead sleep any day.

Now it was the stair routine.  Run down the stairs.  Bend and lift.  Bend and lift.  Repeater.  From the top.  Run up the stairs.  But all the way up.  Like 3 floors this time.  And you know the drill.  I said, bend and lift.  Bend and lift.

I was sweating.  My heart was racing.  My sports bra was certainly well appreciated.  I felt hungry, I felt productive.  And now we're at 8am.   Not bad for a morning workout.

Only problem was this wasn't a gym workout at all.  I've started to consider every bit of what i do in the house to be an exercise activity.  Bending to load the dishwasher.  Lifting to fill the cabinets with these clean dishes.  Bending to do a laundry.  Or switch to a dryer load.  Side stepping from the milk my son spilled.  Last night.  Jumping from the pain I just felt from that stray lego piece I asked him to clean up yesterday morning.  Bending to pick up the cap from the ketchup that we thought we lost three days ago.  We threw that ketchup out.  Reaching for the clothes in my kids' closets.  Reaching to re-arrange for the summer season.  Running up and down the seemingly endless stairs in this 3 story 1929 house.

For sometime I was bitter about working in the home.  After all, we've discussed my master's degree and all the cash that's gone into my grooming and education.  Some days I was envious of friends who employ full time nannies, housekeepers.  A few of my best friends even have a  proper staff.  Please don't believe i'm so hard done by.  I do have a lady who helps me once a week.  She takes the edge off, but 7 weeks ago she broke her leg.  Running to buy a pineapple that was on sale.  Hopefully she'll never do that again.

But these days I embrace my position.  I lunge hard when i walk across the wood floors with a broom in my hand.  I bend deeply when i take a dish from the machine.  In between, I stretch and i plank.  I'm starting to see results, and for that i'm pretty happy.  It's almost like i've created my own 1950's housewife workout.  As I approach forty, I'm surprisingly okay with that.  Sure beats heading to the gym in this heat.  Namaste

summer perspective.

Please excuse my cockiness, but I used to have great legs.  Like really great legs.  People would compliment them all the time.  No matter where i went, I heard the kind words.  I guess it was lovely, thought at the time I found it sort of disturbing.  Kind of gross.  I didn't like to feel objectified.  Regardless,  I'd wear short shorts and short skirts.  And high heels.

All legs look best in the summertime, kissed with some sunshine.  If i took a mid-winter vacation, I'd be sure to bake my extremities.  I'd used copious amounts of sunscreen, but not on my legs.

Today I hate my legs.  With the excess baby weight, they're not as skinny as they used to be.  Two babies and all the baggage that came with those dolls has also left it's toll in the form of spider veins.   They're gross.  Not as gross as the fat, but they're not a pretty look.  Sometimes I use my expensive Smashbox BB cream to cover the lines.  That works and it beats surgery.

 I also can't stand my knees.  For many years, my knees were adorable.  Skinny.  Almost knocked kneed.  But now there's a little mound of side fat that makes my knees look like they're on backwards.  I'm not a fan.  I don't love to show my knees.  In fact, i rarely do.

As if the weight gain wasn't egregious enough, my psoriasis also decided that it should spread itself out.  What used to be just a small patch on my elbows is now a rather large and bright pink marking all over the side of my calves.  Again, not a good look.  Make up does cover it, but it's not healthy.  Sometimes it even hurts.  And more than just my ego feels the pain.

Don't be mistaken, I also loathe my arms.  Psoriasis has left it's ugly mark all over them too.  When my skin isn't shedding, it's an uncomfortable shade of itchy red.  I have two  horrible scars where the biopsies were pulled two years ago.  One of these said scars makes me so sick that most days i cover it with a kiddie bandaid.  It's my own perpetual ouchie.  Sometimes I wonder what's more obvious?  The bandaid or the scar?  I'm sure the bandaid is worse, but i cover that mark regardless.

My arms were never great, but they were always just fine.  They were long and thin and strong.  I had great muscles and some decent definition.  Now i have bat wings.  Lunch lady arms.  Hadassa arms (for my jewish friends following along).  They're not the worst i've seen, believe you me, but they're not lovely.  For this reason, i try to refrain from wearing short sleeves.  I suffer unmercifully in the summer heat and humidity.  Buying clothes for the season is also not an easy job.  Dresses with capped sleeves make me shake.  Jean jackets, wraps, boleros and pashminas are all my best friends.  I can't buy anything that wouldn't allow me to conceal my meaty shoulders.  Not a good look.  I promise you that.

I'm also starting to dislike my ears.  I've had issues with them since I was a kid in grade school.  At that time i was sure that they made me look like Dumbo.  As a matter of fact, even my dear daddy made fun of them.  He would say that we didn't need an umbrella if we used my ears for protection.  Never would i wear my hair in a ponytail. Ever.

As the years moved on, and i became more comfortable in my skin, i began to accept my ears.  They weren't such an issue.  But today as i look in my reflection, my ears look big.  My face looks tired.  When did 40 get so close?

And finally, I could do without my stomach.  Today as i caught a Kim Kardashian view of myself in the public library's window reflection,  i noticed the perpetual pooch in my belly.  I was wearing what i thought to be a lovely dress, complete with long sleeves and my leg make up.  I even had on a pair of skin sucking spanx.  The lacey material of the dress, the slip beneath, nothing could cover the mass.  I tried to suck it in and carry on.

But then as i sat in my favourite seat, in my favourite cafe, sipping my favourite iced Americano, I watched as a regular customer placed his order.  He had lovely ears for his face,  but they didn't seem to work.  He was mouthing words and motioning to the food in the glass window.  Luckily the barista was lovely and together they understood his order.  One strawberry smoothie and a chocolate croissant.  While i saw him stumble to get out his choices, I touched my ears and smiled.  Yes, they may not be dainty, but all the better to hear your voice darlings.

While standing outside, watching my daughter talk to a friend, an elderly couple came to the cafe for their regular breakfast date.  Each was in their late 80's.  Newlyweds.  Actually only married for the last 4 years.  I adore them.  The gentleman walked slowly to the counter with his cane in his right hand.  His legs weren't what they used to be.  The pretty lady sad down and left her silver walker beside her.  Each morning he comes over to push it closer to her when she's ready to get up.  I imagine she was much stronger when she was my age.  Forty years ago.

As i looked at their accoutrements and i thought about my legs.  No, they weren't as sexy as they were when i was 20, but then again, I'm 20 years passed that.  My legs have run races and biked for miles.  I've walked through cities in countless countries.  On these two strong legs.  I'm sure i'll be happier when they're a bit more slim, but for now they're just perfect for walking home with my girl or running after my boy in the park.

Leaving the coffee shop, my daughter and i walked past the library again.  This time i saw our reflection staring at me.  I saw her,  in her little dress,  and me,  in my not so little dress.  I didn't notice my big belly.  All i could see was my teeny mini me walking beside me.  Tomorrow she'll be off to her first summer at sleep away camp.  It felt like just yesterday that I was carrying her around on the inside.

Instead of sucking in my gut just then, i breathed a sigh of relief.  Relief that my body had allowed me to successfully grow such amazing creatures.  Two beings who look up to me and count on me everyday.  Those two kids adore my stomach and I adore them.  This doesn't mean i'll give up the quest to get fit, it just means i'll be more gentle.  More grateful.  More aware.

From the library, we continued walking towards our house.  On my left, I noticed a young attractive blonde woman with great legs.  She was wearing a turquoise and pink paisley print dress.   Looked like it could have been a Pucci.  The sleeves were capped.  In a heartbeat, I had to nearly look away.  As I was staring at her sleeves, I realized she only had one arm.  Boy how I was hoping my kid wouldn't stare.  Certainly that arm was lovely, but it was the only one she had.  With it she clung to 3 very large and seemingly heavy sustainable bags.  She walked passed me and we smiled.  Strong and beautiful.  Her one amazing arm.

My two arms were loaded. Library books, an iPad,  groceries.  But at this moment they felt strong and useful.  I could hold all of my bundles and still hold my little daughter's dolly hand as we crossed the road.  I know that today my arms aren't ideal, but I give thanks for the fact that i have two at all.  Perspective.  Time to use a little perspective.  Namaste. xoxo

how many days till september?

Let's just say it hasn't been a very good summer.  It's been raining.  Lots of rain.  So much rain that you might think the air would be free from that sticky and disgusting humidity.   This is not the case.  The days have been so thick that I haven't had a blow out since early June.  My hair has been a wreck and hasn't been out of a bun in 6 weeks.  First world problems, I know.

And my husband has been away the past 6 weekends.  The first weekend I was away with him and that was lovely.  We spent the most dreamy night in Niagra on the lake.  It was heaven.

The 2nd weekend he took our daughter away on a special trip to Montreal.  They had a blast visiting his candy factory, hanging out at the hot tub, and dining on fondue.  I spent those few days with my loving, yet exhausting four year old son.

The following weekend my dad was invited to go on a "business" trip with my DH.   Together they drove out to wine country and enjoyed what looked to be a perfect weekend.  Wine tours, wine tastings, wine pairings.  What could be bad.  Brick oven pizzas and sweet homemade desserts.  I spent that weekend home with the kids.

As per usual, the next weekend, DH left on his annual canoe trip with his old camp buddies.  Months before they plan and plan.  What route to take.  What menu to serve.  I laugh when i hear the list of foods they'll drag on their backs.  From Serrano ham to lamb chops, this never reminds me of the canoe trips I used to take.  Hot dogs and baked beans seemed more familiar.  The kids and i played on.

This week, his weekend started on Thursday morning.  He raced to the airport to catch a private plane.  Fishing trip.  Business.  I call it a BOONDOGGLE?!  Not sure why fancy fishing trips have now replaced the boardroom business meetings and golf games of yesteryear.

I knew he was safely on his jet, because he sent me two or three texts with JET selfies.  Do we call them Jelfies?  I'm not sure.  I've never flown on a private plane.  I also knew he arrived across the country.  He posted this on Facebook.  Glad i was able to follow along.

Then came the pictures of the red and white checker table cloth complete with lobster dinner.  The molten lava cake with the hurricane candle beside it.  The shots from the canoe.  The pictures of the canoe.  The water.  The coffee press and the perfectly perfect coffee cups.  There was a photo of bean soup.  And vegetarian pizza.  I'm pretty sure it was spinach and feta.  There were other random selfies.  From the boat.  Or the deck.  Or the veranda.

I was happy he was enjoying himself, but i couldn't help but be jealous.  Maybe even sad.  My sitter had decided to go to France for the month, leaving me alone with the kids.  I adore them, but everyone needs a break sometimes.  Or a swimming pool.  Or a summer house.   And to add insult to injury,  somewhere along the line I caught a stomach virus.

Life back in my hometown seemed to be going swimmingly.  My nephew was getting cuter by the day.  Cousins were coming in to visit.  Garage sales.  Birthday parties.  Lots of togetherness, and i was feeling more alone.  By the minute.

World news has been pretty chilling this week too.  What with the Malaysian air flight going down and all.  For some reason, I can't get enough of this story.  The horror.  The terror.  I pray the passengers didn't suffer.

Closer to home a local 7 year old girl was run down very close to my home.  By mistake I drove by the memorial last night.  With the kids.  Tons of flowers and stuffies lined the road.  I could barely look.  Put things in perspective.  That's for sure.

Last night, as my kids were wired and awake well past 11pm, I found myself feeling low.  Not so low, that i couldn't tend to them, but the low that makes me nervous.  The low that wants to listen to sad music and read books non stop.  The low that wants to stay home and hide.

Checking my usual favourite social media sites just seemed to make it worse last night.  I felt more lonely.  More out of touch.  More forgotten.  Once again, that gross feeling of seeing your friends out and enjoying in pictures.  Not sure why some people feel the need to rub their perfect lives in your face.  Especially when i'm not included in the merriment.  Total shock to the heart.

I cried a lot and then fell asleep. Both my kids and my iPhone by my side.

I woke up, checked my Instagram.  This morning I focused on the beauty and the love, and then found my son wanted to make guacamole, french fries and omelettes.  Within 1/2 of an hour, he had created all three dishes.  Each one was divine.

Suddenly, I wasn't so weepy anymore.  I am totally okay being the one at home with my babies.  In true reality, there's no place i'd rather be.  xo

skating in July

We all have to manage our own realities, right?  Reality...what a concept.  To be honest, I'm not a fan. After all, life throws a lot of crap at us, doesn't it?  Each day there are little things I do to make myself feel calm.  Centred.   At peace.  Somedays my strategies work and other days i'm out of luck.

Don't laugh, but I find that checking my Instagram account relaxes me. Facebook too.  Much to my husband's chagrin, it's the first thing I do in the morning.  I check my phone before i even check on my children.  Why? Because I enjoy looking at pictures of food, fun and flowers.  For me, those silly sites show me the Beautiful in everyday activities.   A well prepared breakfast.  A sweet new baby.  A unique halloween costume.  When i'm not well, watching the world online helps me feel connected.  Helps me feel alive.   I'm aware that social media can be a huge time waster.  For me, it's actually a huge life saver.

 Recently, I learned that drinking coffee also helps me deal with life.  It doesn't even have to be the caffeinated stuff.  Or the pricey stuff.  It's just the delicious ritual of sipping an iced Americano that seems to make me whole again.  Each and every morning.  Even when it's chilly outside.  On days where i feel less than perfect, I'll switch to a chai latte.  Warm.

The need to reapply lip gloss every 5 to 10 minutes is something that might drive the average female crazy.  Doing so actually helps me to keep from going crazy.  I apply lipgloss non-stop.  No matter where I am.  After dinner.  When i'm going to bed.  While I'm talking to a friend.   Not sure if it's a habit or obsession. Perchance an addiction?  I can't handle the feeling of my lips getting dry.  Not even for a second. To avoid this sensation, all of my bags and pockets are filled with different coloured tubes.  I don't discriminate.  I like organic, shiny lip, fruity, or plain glosses.  Expensive or store brand doesn't much matter.   I guess i like to keep my lips supple.  No other real explanation.  Sorry if it bugs you.

Obsessive planning also helps me keep sane.  Or almost sane. Since my mind only seems to allow me 9-10 good months per year, I live in constant fear of not finishing things.  I also fear the time when I'm not able to purchase stuff.  While the tasks or the items may not be vital, i know my life would be incomplete without them.

When i'm well, I constantly worry about having all birthday, housewarming, and new baby gifts purchased and ready to go.  Seriously, I buy gifts months ahead of time.  I keep them wrapped and stored in gift drawers.  Currently I have hundreds of dollars worth of perfectly packaged presents in my home. Candles, toys, art sets, and gift cards.  Before my son was born, his room was the "gift room".  People made fun of me, but i miss that room.   This need to keep a house full of perfectly planned pressies comes from the fact that during certain months, I can't leave the house.  Yes, I actually don't leave the house.  But only usually for a month or two.  Don't worry.  Often this low period comes around the beginning of the school year.  And seriously,  nothing i would hate more than for my little ones to have to attend a birthday party sans present.

Since I now know that post summer can be a bit trying for me, I also plan my kids' schedules way in advance.  It's July 20th and they're both already booked for swimming lessons.  And skating.  And skiing too.  I'm sure the people who run these said programs must think i'm the most keen mom around.  Guess this is why we shouldn't judge.  I book these programs now, because if i don't, the worry about arranging them in the fall could bring me to the ground.  That feeling of not knowing how to figure out what to plan a week is awful for me.  Sometimes even just getting one activity booked is helpful as it give me a foundation.

As i get worse, the feeling gets more insufferable.   Everything is a struggle, including figuring out how to feed the children.  During the majority of the year, I live to cook.  I love to create gorgeous and healthy meals for my friends and family.  This all changes as my mood drops.  When things are getting particularly sad, but not yet quite horrific, you may find me wandering the aisles of the most local grocery store.  Try not to stare, as I'll be the unshowered girl wandering the produce aisle.  My hair will be a mess and my weight might have fluctuated.  I can bet that i'll be in some sort of coat and black leggings.  I may appear to be lost, but please don't stop to chat.  I won't be ready for that.  The idea of speaking to you will make me cry.  You don't want that, now do you?  So carry on.

Those shiny aisles filled with my favourite organic apples, leaks and cauliflower suddenly start to mock me.  At that moment, planning for dinner is something akin to climbing Mount McKinley.   No training in the world can prepare me for those days.

Fortunately, i have friends who are well aware of my condition.  They'll pick me up at home.  Walk me through those mean aisles.  One dear love will literally plan my dinners.  She'll push my grocery cart and let me trail along like I'm her 4 year old daughter.  She asks if I have milk.  And eggs.  And bread.  She'll pick up the tortilla wraps.  And the chicken.  Calmly she'll explain to me again and again, how I should prepare my tacos later that evening.   When I get home, I never can remember what she has said, but at least the fridge is full.   For friends like her, I'm forever grateful.

Run. Spin.  Breathe.  Drink coffee & water.  Apply lib gloss.  Have a cookie too. Do what you must to keep the crazy at bay.  Namaste.  xo

Which super hero would YOU be?

I've always wanted to have the power to act like a "fly on the wall".    While i'm a fairly confident  girl, I always believed it would be fun to know what people actually think of you.  You know, to know what they say when you get up to leave the table.  A close friend of mine always jokes when describing her family, "we're very nice people, just don't leave the room".

I'm pretty sure this sentiment is true for most families.  Maybe it's human nature.  Perhaps people are just more insecure than they think?  Not sure about the science, but I do know that people (especially of the female persuasion) are prone to talking about friends behind their backs.

I'll admit that I have done it in the past. But I've tried so hard to refine my ways.  Honest, I have.  Especially living in a close knit city like Toronto.  I find  here you just never know who knows who.  Scary enough, in first months in TO, when I was still in graduate school, I learned this from a total stranger.  He was interviewing me for a job in consumer products.  Halfway through the meeting he says, "TO is a small town.  Be careful not to ever have an affair.  You never know who's watching.  And if you do find someone worthy, be sure to head out to the suburbs.  Never do it in the city".  I was 26.  His words stunned me.  I had no idea why he was saying this. Needless to say, I didn't get the job, but I did learn that even big cities are like small towns.  From then on, I've tried hard not to be unkind to people.  At least publicly.  At least in the city.

The other night, my close friend invited us to her children's birthday celebration.  We were invited to their home for a most wonderful family dinner party.  I dressed myself up in my most flattering black and white wrap dress.  I wore my red TOMS wedges.  I even suffered with a pair of ill-fitting spanx.  My children were appropriately groomed too.  My girl in a sweet striped GAP summer frock and the boy in a sweet Ralph Lauren shirt with blue anchor shorts.  We looked legit.  And our hair was brushed.  The three of us.

My lovely friend was happy to see us and the children took to playing immediately.  I was content to meet the extended family.  Six brothers and sisters and their various partners made 11 in total.  Before I arrived, I told myself to act demure.  Only speak when spoken to.  If anything, play the shy card.  After all, they didn't know how wonderfully charming i could be.

I sat myself down in front of the wonderfully baked fig & brie and waited for the evening to unfold.  The middle brother was a sweetheart.  I found him handsome.  Charming.  His sweet smile warmed my heart.  We seemed to bond over some similar mental health issues and I tried hard to keep that distance between POLITE and FLIRTY.  We chatted about my husband.  He gushed about his ex-girlfriend.  He companied about his job.  I was fully engaged.  I liked him.  Knowing their were many sisters beside me, I kindly ended our chat and turned towards on of the woman.

Seated on my right side was the older sister.  Pretty girl, though not as pretty as my dear friend.  I complimented her dress.  I genuinely adored the blue and white piece.  I acted shocked when she admitted that she was 10 years older than I had guessed.  Her skin was perfect I heard myself say.  And it was.  In five minutes i knew where she lived, how many acres her home was built on, and what she did for work.  I also learned what she had done for a job in the past ten years.  I knew where she vacationed.  I knew where she shopped.  I had seen not only a few pictures of her stunning children, but also recent paintings she had created.  I ooohed and ahhhed in the correct places.  I particularly liked the paintings of the boats.  Truth be told, I enjoyed chatting with her and i thought for sure the feeling was mutual.   I was wrong.

As the night went on and my children became more exhausted, I was sure my perfect appearances were going to pot.  My son busted out his Broadway tunes and began to dominate the evening.  At four, he has a savant memory for every song he hears and the crowd went wild. This lovely family was literally singing along with my boy.  Like he was Billy Joel.  The piano man.   It was adorable, but i was sure they'd think it was my fault that he was so "out there".  So very out of control.

One of the sisters is a school teacher.  She went on about how bright my boy is.  Her feeling was that we should take him out of his current school.  She believed an alternative school would suit him better.   Funny, she didn't even know our situation from this past year.  I told her she was perceptive and thanked her for the kind words.  As i spoke, I kept my legs crossed and hoped my dress wasn't as low cut as it seemed from my vantage point.

By 11pm, my eyelids were getting heavy and I rounded up the children.  Politely, they said their goodbyes and we headed home.  A lovely evening indeed.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when my friend sent this text, "as soon as you left they were bad mouthing you".  Seriously?  Come on!  I was on my best behaviour.

Apparently they didn't think so.  They thought i was "out there".  Me?  Whatever did THAT mean.  They thought I was a know it all, trying to be smart.  Funny, because actually i just AM smart.  They really didn't like me.  Not even their 80 year old mother liked me.  At first my feelings were hurt, but then i realized you need to go to the source.   These people don't like my amazing friend either.  Why?  Because she is a warm, beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, worldly woman.  She has more class in her left finger than they have in their whole persons.  Combined.

When i think back to the party, I try to recall what i could have said or done that was so egregious.  Nothing seemed to stand out.  Save for my son's singing debut.   Clearly they thought i was trying to pick up their brother.  I guess they didn't know that i know better than to do that.  At least not in the middle of the city.   Grow up girls.  Namaste ladies...

Anyone free for a movie tonight?

It's sort of funny.  About 6 weeks ago, I was desperate to find someone to see the movie CHEF with me.  I emailed 7 different local female friends.  Each one had  an excuse.  Most were honest.  Working late.  Up at the "cottage".  No sitter.  Plans for dinner.  Exhausted.   Out for drinks.  Spending the night with my man.  He wants me home tonight.  Ugh.  I think this one was the most annoying, but i digress.

I sent a few texts by phone and then resorted to a posting on Facebook.  Since i have close to 700 "friends" on FB, i was sure that SOMEONE would be free to come see a 90 minute film with me.  After all, the movie is a beautifully shot food picture.  Sounds way better than "hanging with your man" to me.

After waiting an hour, i learned that there was not anyone in the city of Toronto who was able to join me for the evening.  Wow.  Was i disappointed.  As it turned out, my own unreliable child care provider cancelled on me at the last minute.  A movie was not in the cards for me that early summer night.

I'm sure i spent a large part of that Tuesday surfing the internet, checking out Facebook, instagram, Houzz, and Twitter.  I know that i had to sit through copious amounts of pictures of parents sending their children off  to sleep away summer camps.  They posted about tears and sadness.  How would they ever endure a quiet, empty clean home for two weeks?  Days later, these same parents are still posting pictures of every single thing their offspring is doing at camp.  On a daily basis.  Every.  Single.  Activity.

I'm totally annoyed by this phenomenon.  I mean, is there actually a photographer following young campers from archery to swimming to tennis and then volleyball?  Each and everyday?  There are even pictures of these said kids just hanging around and applying sunscreen.  It's creepy.  Often I wonder if the photographer is a professional?  Then i hope it's just a high school staff with a SLR camera?  What makes it worse, is that i know these parents had to siphon through hundreds of pictures online to find their little ones.  Not an easy task.  Believe me, I've done it. And I do adore my friends kids, I just don't need to see every popsicle they eat at camp.

But anyway, I did manage to finally see CHEF when i was back in NYC.  I loved it.  Went with my sister who had zero appreciation for the amazing production and complained that it was a 90 minute Twitter advertisement.   While I really enjoyed the movie, I realized that although it feels like i have friends all over the globe, in all reality, i probably do not.

So all this lead up to tell you that last night i went on a major UN-FRIENDING mission.  I went ballistic.  It was a wee bit insane.  I don't know what came over me, but I'm pretty sure it was the closest i'll ever get to going on a full blown killing spree.  Actually, I'm completely sure.

The massacre started because last night there was yet another NYC friend bugging me to join a multi-level marketing organization.  Come on.  I've been through this already.  Vitamins, protein shakes, jewelry, clothes, stationery, skin care, etc.  What's next?  And when did Avon-like tupperware sales become the new GO TO career choice for smart and accomplished stay at home moms?  I wish them great luck in their newest endeavours, but if they couldn't join me for a movie, then I didn't want another invite to their wine and cheese "party".

So i de-friended these girls first.  I just couldn't see another BEFORE picture of their old aunts' wrinkly necks.   Two down and I was feeling brave.

I got rid of ten women who used to be involved in the work i did about 8 years ago.  Women i had met through working in the baby industry back when i had a baby.  Often i was sure that these ladies were stalking me or at least checking out my photos on a regular basis. They were not my friends and they had to be deleted.

Twelve down.  Next were the high school girls who i hadn't seen since high school.  For a time, it was fun to see their posts, but heading dangerously close to 40, i was now over it.   I think i got rid of 5 or 6 women with this criteria.

There have been tons of people who never comment on my posts at all.  Never a like for a cute picture.  Never a comment for a serious quote.  That group was going down.  I estimate them to be about 7.

Finally, I just deleted another 26 for good measure.  People who post about religion.  People who post too many quotes about puppies and kitties.  "Friends" who post all their girls nights out and never manage to invite me.  Families who post pool pictures, but never ask us to come for a swim. Women who put up too many bikini shots.  They all had to go.  And fast.

By the end of the day, I felt pretty good and decided to alert my true "friends" about what i had done. Their responses made me giggle.

My post read, " i'm on a mission---un-friending people like mad...Feel good, if you can read this, then i haven't hit you just yet :)

So far, in less than 12 hours, I've had close to 50 people comment on this status update.  People I haven't heard from in years asking kindly that i keep them as friends.

One lady begged to stay, claiming she adores my food posts.  One male friend threatened to block me if i delete him and then poke me unmercifully.  Another friend was curious as to what criteria i used to cull?  

I found their words charming.  I was flattered.  They like me.  They really really like me.  And at the end of this one sided war, I was happy with the hundreds of friends I had left.  

Next time I'm searching for a friend to see a movie with me, I'll see how quickly someone says "yes".   
Breathe, smile and drinks lots of water.  Namaste.

and tonight i feel sadness...

Everything was going swimmingly.  The sun was finally shining, our flowers were growing, and we even had tomatoes ripening on the vines.  My kids had finally finished what could only be described as a harrowing 10 months.  Their report cards were stellar.  And not just stellar, they were outrageous.  Basically that teacher who had tortured me all year was now extolling the greatness of my genius son.  "He is a scientist who puts together facts like no other student".  His fondness for learning would make any educator smile, she went on to say.  Truth be told, reading her kind words made me feel a bit guilty.

But today is another day.  My kids are exhausted and wild due to excessive programming at summer camp.  My husband is away on yet another business trip, his second in 7 days.  When i called my mother for the 3 time this evening, i realized that the reason she couldn't hear her phone because her home was filled with revellers celebrating my little sister's birthday.  Seems that the whole extended family was together enjoying and here i'm stuck.  Not that i feel bad for myself (ok, so maybe a little), but i just feel disappointed.  Dissapointed that my phone rarely rings.  Disappointed that I seem to be the perpetual party planner.  Sad that so few people seem to want to reciprocate my dinner invites.  Sad that i have to board a plane to be in my proper home.

But life isn't really so bad.  So celebrate the sweetness.  Namaste

what makes you happy?

By the time the doll baby turned three, they were actually ready for a second child.  Lucky for fertile myrtle, they fell pregnant on the first chilly day in February.  This event wasn’t as sweet as the last.  She was neausis and feeling unwell for three months.  Sadly this didn’t keep the pounds at bay.  Her belly ballooned way too quickly for her liking.  But life stayed happy until about month 7.  This is when that scary reality set in.  Another child.  Another mouth.  More running shoes.  More diapers.  More early morning wake up calls.  Worst of all was the notion that flying to NYC wouldn’t be as easy.  After all, baby girl was the perfect travel accessory.  Not only was she a dream to travel with, she even knew when to take off her little sparkly shoes at security.  How would she ever handle a second kid on that one-hour flight?

Meds were needed to stop the pain.  She was too scared and too angry.  Poor baby bean didn’t have a chance and it was disgraceful.  A fantastic team of doctors came up with a plan.  Baby boy would be born on December 3 and closely monitored by the nurses in the evening.   Breast-feeding would not be expected and mom to be would get at least 7 hours of rest a night.  Labor came and went without the needed epidural.  At the end of the fire, the most brilliant and handsome child graced this world.  His name was to be Javier.  Blue eyes sparkled and his face was intense.  He would be her perfect partner.  The perfect brother to their already darling little 4 year old. 

And so it was written.  He lifted her spirits better than any drug could ever do.  She took to him right away and he was supremely smitten from the beginning.  It was a match made for sure.

Life went on.  Too quickly one might note.  Boy was growing in leaps and bounds and walking by age 9 months.  People were amazed.  Now there were two perfect children walking on this earth.  The two children were hers and life was definitely blessed.  She was in heaven and no one could deny.  The boy was charismatic, funny and charming.  He had so much mommy in him that he was more like a 20 year old than a 20 month old.

He enjoyed playing, running, jumping, cooking, eating… He was from another world.  The home was happy.  Bustling.  Smiles everywhere.  Singing all day and night.  Everyone slept well past 9am.

The weight still carried on.  By now there were about 60 pounds to shed.  It was tougher than before.  She was 5 years older and the pounds were very comfortable where they were.  They were stubborn.  One might even say obstinate.

Back to that Weight Watchers meeting to learn about how to eat.  Don’t eat too much bread.  Stay away from cheese and pizza.  Clearly she could write the book, she just couldn’t seem to follow the directions.  How could she help that she wanted to eat at 2am.  Why was it that dim sum and cheese were still favorites.  Was pizza not really healthy? There was cheese for calcium and pepperoni for protein, no?

So the war waged on and it seemed that she wasn’t winning yet.  The smiles at home were only turned up when the kids were involved.  Otherwise, there was unrest.  When are you going to get back to your pre-baby weight he seemed to plea.  Aren’t you happier skinnier?! Clearly, she wasn’t happy, but was it really the pounds that were making her upset?

Life was easier behind her MAC computer.  When she was typing online no one knew her.  With that shiny screen in front of her, she still looked 25.  Slim and fit, no one truly knows you online and that was just perfect for her. 

In her head she whispered: Run, run, run from your pain.  You may hide it if you stand in the rain.  I’m not thinking rational.  This kind of thinking is fashionable.  Don’t want to walk away, but it’s not safe to stay.  That was the truth.  It wasn’t safe to stay.  But where did she have to go?

Then again, there were the babies.  Mother of two.  That was her new title.  It was both the best and hardest job she ever had.  Thankfully she was great at it.  Cooked, cleaned and entertained those kids.  A lot.  Sure, some mornings she lamented the fact that they had to eat yet again, but then she’d pull it together.  Off to the market for the organics.  Milk, cheese, and fresh produce.  Only her little ones snacked on avocado right from the shell.  These kids were healthy.  These kids were happy.  They weren’t trying to run from the rain.  They were jumping.  Right in.  And they weren’t even wearing their rain boots.

I’m not thinking rational.  And so it went.  Another day.  Another year.  Another letter.  Another ex.  Live in the present.  Forget about the past.  How can you ever forget when today is just so darn ugly?  Hmmmm. 

But the music kept playing.  Everyday.  Mostly in her head.  Sometime from the iphone.  Running from the life that she had.   Went down to the ocean to meet the candy man…with all the answers to her problems in his hand.  She doesn’t want to change her ways.  Ever.  Why should she?   Only happy when she’s high??  It certainly was starting to feel that way.