Under Quarantine

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Hello happy people! Just wanted to give you a quick update to let you know that the kids and I have been under the weather. Lily was sick before her birthday on the 21st, then Joe and I picked it up last Friday. I'll be back in commission soon & Joe's feeling less hot and more perky by the day. I rarely get sick and I'm not a good sick person so it's best that I stay away. I'm a cranky heat ball of post-nasal phlegm.

On the upside, I crocheted a hat!

Ta ta for now. Huggles.

Affirmation Danger!

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You know those rare moments of comprehension that creep into your consciousness when you're least expecting them and slap you in the face? I was white-gloved by one yesterday after reading an article called "Words of Wisdom: Positive thinking's negative results".

The article basically states that if you are trying to self-improve by making positive affirmations about qualities you do not possess or qualities that are false or overstated that the affirmations will be met with resistance and doubt by your subconscious thereby reinforcing your negative self-image.

I'm not sure if this is entirely true, but I think I might test it out in the next few weeks. I've always been a strong believer in dressing for the job you want not the job you have. One might extrapolate that affirmations are similar in nature. Couldn't repeating to ourselves that we possess qualities that we in fact do not train our subconscious to believe that we do in fact possess said qualities and in turn cause an active shift in our behavior thereby reinforcing the desired quality until the lie becomes the truth? That's what I've always thought. But according to the article, I may be doing more harm than good.

Where does it all lead? Where can I take this? Should I stop wearing a track suit in hopes or morphing into a runner? Or a rapper? Does it now make no sense to wear my hair like Sarah Palin on Sundays in hopes of becoming a strong-willed firm-belifed power-suit harboring force of nature?

I want to alter my eating behavior. Perhaps I will no longer say things to myself like, "I have willpower. I have discipline. I have thin yet creamy thighs." Apparently even my subconscious knows that's a crock of sh*t. However, I may instead mentally utter phrases like, "I have a strong desire to eat less. I feel vigorous and alert when I eat raw vegetables. My thighs are big but they're smaller than those of that mean lady at the DMV."

It seems to me that the key here is to do a little Easter egg hunt for my positive qualities, even if they don't burn brightly, instead of focusing on my negative or nonexistant ones. Find them and fan them until they do.

Either that or stop obsessing on myself, do a little freaking good for humanity, and become a happier person out of positive action rather than simply willing it to be so.

Yes, I did it again.

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I need to get over this thing I have knocking around my brain that I can't post unless I have something deep or humorous to say. Not that I ever say anything deep or humorous to say. That's beside the point. It's a neurosis.

Anyway, yes I changed my blog theme yet again. I realize the polka dot background is a little slow loading. I'm going to see if I can make it a bit smaller to speed things up a bit. Also, I'm going to alter the header to add my babies in there.

I'll be back in commission soon enough. Hope you are all having a great week and looking forward to the 4th!

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• Polka Dots Are Hot this Season (blogs.smarter.com)

Trouble With Bug Tape

My husband looked me square in the eye last night and said, "I've got a Dennisism to share with you". As you can imagine, I was both excited and a little fearful. Here is my account of his recollection:

[At work the exterminator puts in bug plates on the floor]...So one of those bug plates that the exterminators put in there that has the sticky stuff to catch the bugs..? It had flipped over and somebody had walked on it and it got stuck to the carpet. So I see it there and try to peel it off and as I'm trying to peel it of it's very difficult but it's still...it's coming off a little bit but it's sticking to my hand. So at some point I don't even have my fingers free anymore because they're covered with this bug stuff.

So I start to pull it off and stuff like that and whatever I pull off of one hand sticks to the other hand and so I go into the restroom thinking hot water will help and I'm rubbing it on the plastic inside the liner of the trash can to get it to stick. I get some of it off there. I stick my hands under hot water to try to wash it off. So some of the paper is coming off a little bit so I do what I can and turn the water off and I grab a paper towel and then I realize that I'm drying my hands on the paper towel and the paper towels are sticking to my hand so all the paper's back on my fingers again. So at this point I'm like well okay I'll wash it off again and this time I'll let my hands dry—just air dry, you know? So I wash my hands and get as much paper as I can off of there and I stand there in the bathroom with my hands in the air trying to get them dry. I also have to go somewhere in my car and I have to get going so I can't have sticky hands.

So anyway that's what's going on and I'm getting stressed and I get the poops and I realize I have to sit down and...you know...go to the bathroom. So I sit down and come time to wipe and I grab the toilet paper and wipe and I realize I can't get the toilet paper off my fingers—it's stuck! So then I have to grab another piece of toilet paper with my other hand and try to grab the other paper so it doesn't stick and it literally is just... So through trial and error and thousands of rolls of toilet paper I finally get myself to where I want to be and I flush the toilet and get up and I've got to wash my hands again and get a bunch of paper off of there and stuff like that. So I get the paper off as much as I can but the sticky stuff is still on my fingers. I have to get in the car so I put gloves on and just hope my hands will sweat and the sticky stuff will come off so I wore gloves there and back. Even when I got back my hands still had paper stuck to them. That's my story.

Me: Baby! How did that make you feel?
Dennis: Like a character in a Jim Carrey movie.

Deeper Thoughts

I'm ambibedrous. I can sleep on either side of the bed.










Cartoon credit

One for My Guy

My husband married a fun, spontaneous, one might even argue sexy on a good day party girl and ended up with... wait for it... Mommy.

It's true. I almost feel sorry for the guy. It all happened so quickly. We met in 2003, married in 2005, and by the time I had Joe Joe in 2006 I'd gained 70+ pounds from pregnancy-induced hypothyroidism and had stopped doing my roots. I was so tired all the time. It was a huge effort just to do one load of laundry. I cried daily. I was fearful to take my son to the store lest a car should swipe him in the parking lot. I hovered like a bear. I eyed our dogs with steely suspicion. I felt immense pressure to make every moment magical. I thought I should be cataloging his every breath with photographs, baby book entries and emails. I felt guilty for staying at home and racked my brain 24/7 for a way I could be at home with my boy, my heart, and still contribute to our household. Yes, I thought that being a stay at home Mom meant that I wasn't contributing. I had to find a way to justify my very existence. I tried lots of things only to find that it was my son of the thing. The thing always lost out. I failed. Miserably. And often.

Hypothyroidism slows down your body functions, including your metabolism and thought processes, and basically slowly drives you insane. For real. I could barely hold my son up at six months, or walk twenty feet down the street without panting for breath. I was fearful all the time. When asked my middle name I sometimes could not remember. To make matters worse I turned to food for comfort and to quell the anxiety I was feeling.

Then, when Joe was nine months old, I was able to become pregnant with Lily. That was the plan. I We wanted anther child, and at the age of 37 the advice was to start trying when your baby is nine months old. What can I say, we got lucky or blessed or both. Standard pregnancy blood tests ensued, and miracle of miracles one day my doctor sat across from me wide-eyed with disbelief as he read me a three digit TSH number. Vindication was mine! I'd been complaining for months that I was dieting but still gaining weight and he always gave me the "Uh-huh, sneak another cookie while you're at it" look. Shortly thereafter Levothyroid became my new best friend.

It's been a long process but I'm slowly becoming me again. I want the time back with my son. I want to run with him and play and sing to him without a voice tinged with love but also sadness and desperation. We don't always get what we want.

I've decided to stop beating myself up for having been sick and tired and to start living with vitality. I tossed out a hook and snagged myself and started reeling me in. For a long time I thought that any time spent on myself was time stolen from my children. I'm beginning to realize that time spent on myself is a gift to my children. I'm taking morning walks and eating better. I'm wearing makeup. I'm brushing my hair.

Time spent on me is a gift to my husband as well. What? I have a husband? Oh, that's right! When I became a Mom I grew so focused on my children that I forgot to be fun. I was a good Mom, but a lackluster wife and partner. You see, any time spend on my husband was time stolen from my children. Little did I know that time spent on my husband was one of the greatest gifts I could give my children.

It has been said that the greatest gift you can give your children is to love their mother. Isn't the same true of ne'er oft thought of dear old Dad?

Last night Mom watched the kiddos while my husband Dennis and I went out for margaritas and tacos. We talked. About the kids. And then a miracle happened. We started talking about him. As he began to share with me his hopes for the future I saw him come to life. It was like watching a train huff and puff and rattle and screech, eventually working up to a smooth and proud glide. It was beautiful.

We finished our food and checked his watch and determined that if we were to head home right then and there we would arrive just as Mom was putting the kids down. That's a big no-no. The distraction would have them in a frenzy and they wouldn't be able to go down for hours. So we did what any couple would do. We went to Target and picked up a t-ball stand and a twelve pack of beer. As we got back in the car and realized that we had failed to kill enough time for an uneventful re-entry we decided to stop by the driving range just down the street from our house and have a beer. Dare we? We dared. I asked Dennis what might happen if a policeman discovered our folly. He said, "You're right, officer. You got us. Two middle-aged people sitting in a parking lot at a driving range on a date night having a beer." I giggled. We hadn't done this since we were teenagers. He began detailing some teenage exploits of yore. A friend had scaled a fence and stolen a keg. Another had punched his cousin in the face. I asked if these friends were on Facebook so I could tease them. We smiled and laughed. And it was good.

As Father's Day approaches, I'm going to make a point to remember my husband more often. Not as a partner in parenting, we've got that one nailed, but as a partner in his dreams and in fun.

I love you Mr. Snugglepants.


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How to Make Your Baby Laugh | eHow.com

My new eHow article.

How to Make Your Baby Laugh | eHow.com

Post Crossing

I received my first cards from Post Crossing!

I showed them to Dennis this morning and here's a synopsis of our interaction...





Dennis: That's cool!

Me:

Dennis: I mean, it's so rare you do something that's actually cool.

Me: I do things that are cool!

Dennis: I mean, it's cool to you...

Me:

Aaaanyhoo, here are the postcards that arrived!

1. This one is from Blanka in Plzen, Czech Republic! Apparently they make lots of beer there. Just looking at the postcard, and on a Friday no less, got me to craving a cold one. Thanks to Blanka!
   

1. This next card is from Hanna in Finland! I think it's artistic and compelling. This one actually arrived a couple of days ago. Dennis saw it on the fridge and gave me a weird look. When I asked about it he admitted that he thought it was a picture of me from the past "trying to look cool". I don't know what he was smoking because it looks nothing like me. Are my expectations too high with regards to expecting the man to which I am married for all of eternity to be able to look at a photo of an artsy Fin and think, "Hmm... that's an artsy Fin, that's clearly not my wife." Dare to dream. Thank you Hanna!
   

1. This gem is from Janneke in Vroomshoop in the Netherlands. Isn't it lovely? It's hard to imagine that places like that actually exist outside of fairy tales. Thank you Janneke!
   

What fun! Happy Friday to all of you. :)

Social Media ADD

If you're like me you suffer from Social Media Attention Deficit Disorder. It's gotten to the point where I'm almost mentally paralyzed. My IQ is dialing down as I type this. At any given moment on any given day I am thinking all of these thoughts at once and I'm not kidding:

1. What should I blog about today? Should I even blog today? If I blog two days at once will I be setting a precident and thereby assuring that people will think less of me if I let two or even three or even four days pass between blog entries in the future?
   
   
2. I need to check Facebook. I never get the chance to actually look at everybody's page and get the full scoop on the haps. I should go through my entire friends list and organize people into groups so I can catch up with different groups on different days. Friends, family, bloggers, Avon Reps. But what if people fit into more than one group? What do I do then? Forget it, it's too complicated.
   
   
3. I need to updated my status on Twitter. "Good morning Tweeple! It's me Heather! How are you'z today?". Ugh. "Check out the Avon deliciousness at my funky and fabulous eStore! You KNOW you want to look GUUUD, girl!" He-hl no. "Wacka wacka wacka! Why look so down in the twace when you should be twiling? It's a tweautiful tway twotay!"
   
   
4. I need to find one of those tools that lets me put my Tweeple into groups so I can Tweet more effectively.
   a) SEO Rock Gods!!!!! - All that awesomeness should be contained for safety reasons
   b) Life Coaches - Good resource for affirmations and eastern philosophy quotes
   c) Mommy Bloggers - I can commiserate and follow their @'s to find new mommy blogger followers
   d) "Real" Bloggers - People without kids are the only bloggers to be taken seriously in case you didn't know
   e) Teenagers - Anyone who makes me feel that old needs to be approached with care
   f) Funny people who may or may not be insane for real but I don't care - Nuff said
   g) Other Avon Reps - So I can steal all their good ideas
   h) MC Hammer - His fabulousness needs its own category
   i) Friends and Family - Wait, do I have any on Twitter? Oh crap, I do! Are they reading what I say? Oh no. I'm going to hear about it at Thanksgiving. "Shouldn't you be with your kids instead of talking with all those questionable characters in the internet? I think you even said 'poop' in public. I'm going to speak to your Mother about this."
   
   
5. I need to get some eHow articles up so I can start bringing in some money. Why didn't I think of this back in the day when I actually knew how to do anything? Now all I know how to do is talk about how I don't know how to do anything. Hmm... would that work for an eHow article? How to write an eHow article when you don't know how to do anything?
   
   
6. I need to get caught up on Google Reader. These days actually curling up with a good blog and immersing myself in it seems like a luxury. Oh God, am I doomed to become one of those drive-by phoning-it-in blog networkers? The kind that don't actually read your posts and say things like, "Right on!" and "I always enjoy your posts.", but don't really mean it in a thinly-veiled selfish attempt to get reciprocal comments on their own blog?
   
   
7. I should be creating and promoting a Facebook page for my Avon eStore. But is that even allowed? Will I get it going only to look like a complete ass when Avon comes and cyber-spanks me and makes me take it down?
   
   
8. Should I be working on the blog over at my Avon eStore? Will anyone actually check that? Isn't that sort of like typing up a story and tossing it into the fire? And why did I put a link to my store in this post? Will that look desperate or make me look like a savvy businesswoman? AM I a savvy businesswoman? Am I even a businesswoman or just a cosmetics-schlepping schmuck?
   

There's more, but my brain just froze over. You know that feeling. The numbness starts by your ears and slowly paints the top of your head until it reaches your eyebrows. I can only imagine what I look like to the unsuspecting observer.

Happymaking Comment Quote of the Day

"We too often define ourselves amongst the winners or losers. Truth is, that while someone may be a brilliant writer they can be a shitty person. And frankly, I just don't have time to deal with any more shit than already comes with being a mom."

~ Robin from "Who's The Boss?"

Happymaking Post: Mom Bloggers Caste System

Deeper Thoughts

I'm not altogether certain I can pull off a bandana anymore and that disturbs me. I don't even know when it happened. I mean, one day I was rocking a bandana and some hoop earrings and like some really, really tall boots and the next day I was looking like an eggplant with black toilet paper on the stem.

Mom Bloggers Caste System

I've been reading a lot of articles lately about Mom Bloggers gone bad. No names are ever mentioned, but the sentiment is always the same.

You think you're too good for us now.

Self-satisfaction is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Never discussed, but always presumed is the hierarchy of Mom Bloggers that is becoming more entrenched as I finger this article. Never discussed until now that is! I present to you my...

Mom Bloggers Caste System

Ubertop

• Celebrity Mom Bloggers. They may have a book deal and make celebrity appearances on morning shows. One day one of them may be a guest host on "So you think you can dance". You can comment all you want on their blogs, but there ain't no chance in Hades that the favor will be returned. Don't take it personally, they're just too busy.
  

• Mom Bloggers with a Google Page Rank of five or higher. I mean, how did she do that anyway? Her material is not even that good. Certainly not as compelling as my article on removing teeth marks from the cat's tail. She probably took a limo ride with Mr. Google and doodled his schnoodle. These bloggers may allow you to become their Facebook friend. They may even concede to comment on your blog if you guilt them into it by supporting them in a comment thread when the chips are down.
  

• Mom Bloggers who have lots and lots of followers and/or feed subscribers. How do we know this? Because it's published right there on their blog. Take that, plebian! These bloggers are routinely interviewed and courted by other bloggers, their egos stroked in hopes that some of their magic will rub off on us.
  

• Mom Bloggers who have a Google Page Rank of three or higher and are routinely able to procure obscene amounts of comments. Where do these people come from? People who comment on blogs? We could write a condensed version of Das Boot and our own Dads wouldn't even take the time to comment. We know people are reading our blogs. At least nineteen people. Because Clicky tells us that. But they don't comment. Why? Because they secretly hate us and want us to look like prom-dateless fools. It gives them a certain schadenfreudian pleasure to collectively doom our words to cyberspace limbo; forever moving outward, never hitting that mountain and echoing back to us deeper and louder and with more impact.

• Mom Bloggers with a Google Page Rank of two or higher and a massive amount of followers on Twitter. Hey, at least they're popular somewhere. More popular than us, with more potential for being heard. Clearly they know something that we don't know. People like them. Or at least their Tweets. Maybe it's time to change out our Twavatars again.

• Mom Bloggers. At least they've got a horse in the race.
  

• Moms without a blog. Why even get up in the morning?
  

Uberbottom

Let's all respect one another and not take another blogger's lack of interest in us personally. Let's not chase busy people down and chide them publicly for not having time for us. If you like her, support her. If you don't like her, why not cease to focus on her? Certainly do not express nasty thoughts and allow her success to expand with the help of your passion and your albeit creative negativity.

Her success may not be my success, but it certainly isn't my failure. It isn't her or me. Let's do our own thangs and back in the glow of our positivity and our love of expression. Let's ruminate on our joy and the fact that we're d*mn lucky to be Moms in the first place and to have a platform for bonding and expressing our thoughts, good and bad. Our Moms were infinately more shuttered. Can you imagine how frightened and alone they felt at times? Yes, we are the fortunate ones.

Sisterhood is the new catty. Ain't it cool?

It's no Wolf Cat

...but I think it has a certain charm. Go, Dennis!

Does Google AdSense Make Sense?

Do any of my fellow bloggers or webmasters find that you've been able to procure a respectable amount of cash flow using Google AdSense? By respectable I mean have any of you ever hit the $100 threshold required for payout?

I slapped some ads on this blog just under the header and last time I checked I saw one for "Father Day". Yes, that's "Father Day" and not "Father's Day". Is AdSense programmed to mirror the grammatical acuity of the blogger? If so, my prognosis is bleak.

I find myself wondering if AdSense serves a purpose beyond cluttering Happymaking, making me look estupido and thrusting Engrish text links in your gentle faces not like Andy Gibb thrust his camel toe at an unsuspecting public circa 1977.

Our Angel is Okay

I don't want to get into the details because this is too difficult to talk about right now, so please do not ask, but Dennis and I are so altered by the experience that we are quite literally different people now. As such, we feel we must address it publicly before we are able to resume our somewhat normal daily life.

Our little Lily Rose had a horrible bathtub accent Saturday afternoon and took in some water. Because of this we called 911 and spent Saturday night in the ER at JFK hospital, and Sunday night and Monday in the pediatrics ward. Lily seemed fine and chipper fairly soon after the incident, but the doctors and we wanted to keep a close watch on her to make sure she didn't become a victim of what is called "dry drowning".

Given that it is summer and our children will be spending a lot of time in and around water, it's best that we all familiarize ourselves with the concept of and facts surrounding dry drowning. Here is another source of information about it. Please do not leave your children unattended for even one second in water. We all know this of course, but it bears repeating. Tragedy can happen in one second.

THANK YOU GOD for your infinite mercy in allowing our angel and light of our lives Lily Rose to make it through this incident unscathed that we should have her home alive and well. It could have so easily gone the other way. We are humbled and still a little in shock, but so grateful that things turned out the way that they did.