how to run your life: 240 things (not really)

This is how to run your life.

I do it.

It works for me.

You should try it.

Because I know what’s best for you.

Ok, so maybe I don’t know what’s best for you, but you can steal my ideas as long as you tell everyone about my brilliance because you know me, I’m a glutton for praise and compliments and anything that combines chocolate with peanut butter.

Here we go:

1. Talk to strangers. Some of the most interesting people are strangers at first. Sometimes you even marry them.

2. When you’re in a dark alley or parking garage or anyplace scary, don’t talk to strangers.

3. Carry mace. And lip gloss. Never leave home without those two things. And your keys.

4. Carry a spare set of keys, just in case you forget the keys in no. 3.

5. Carry a spare can of mace. And lip gloss.

6. Don’t be afraid of too many things.

7. Be kind, especially to hobos, because I have a real penchant for hobos and kindness and penchants in general.

8. Even though hobos are strangers and you ought to be kind to them, keep your mace handy, and do not offer to let them use your lip gloss. Hobos hate lip gloss. They would be insulted.

9. Get on Twitter. Everyone else is.

10. Never follow the crowd.  Unless they’re going to a Stevie Nicks concert, then you should absolutely follow them.

11.  Never make a to-do list.

12.  This is not a to-do list.

13.  Don’t harbor resentment. There is a “me” in resentment… don’t fall for it. Stick up for your self.

14.  In order to not harbor resentment, you have to say NO sometimes.  There is no “me” in no.  That’s a good thing. Otherwise it would look like nome or meno and no one would ever understand you. Saying ‘no’ is hard enough.

15.  If #13 still doesn’t make sense, let me know. It’s pretty deep. Sometimes even I don’t understand my incredible depth.

231. Ignore #s 16 through 230… they weren’t very good.

232. Look in the mirror and ask “what can you teach me today?”

233. Use real sugar. Stop the chemical invasion!

234. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do.

235. Don’t kill anyone.

236. hmmmm. let me see. I’ll let you know as soon as I think of something for 236.

237. Show up. Every. Minute. Of. Every. Day. Period.

238. Use periods for emphasis. They’re so emphatic.

239. When bored, STOP

240. I’m getting bored.

240.  I’m going to stop now.

Pass this on to everyone you know. Everyone. It will improve their lives and, by association, your life will improve exponentially.

Don’t believe me?  (grrrrrrrrr)

Well, here’s the scientific proof!

Now– will you puh-leeeze pass this on. 

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Important announcement….

Remember how I was telling you (making excuses) about how busy I’ve been lately, blah blah blah, and it was because of my new website.  Well, that’s still true, but I want you to know that I will be here for a little while longer, that is… until you go over there and get on my Shit List so I can clog up your email with my sheer and utter brilliance and depth.  So worth it, right?  All you have to do is head on over to LinEleoff.com and look for TheWorstMother in the sidebar… then give her your email. (Or go for the RSS feed if that is your preference.) Either way…

You. will. make. her. day. period.

Now, skedaddle.

where have I been all my life

This is the longest I have gone without posting here. 

I have all kinds of excuses, the biggest one being that I have been sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo busy building my new website.

As if you care.

Who can blame you.  You’ve got your own business to contend with… or should I say busy-ness.

But, I want you to pay attention to me.

You know how I am when I don’t get all the attention I so desperately need/require/demand to sustain my egocentric life.

 

And, let’s not downplay all the things I do for you.  Remember that time I made you my favorite pizza with peanut butter cups (a top-secret recipe that’s been in my family for one whole generation–not even my mother has this recipe).

Careful, it’s HOT.

While you’re chowin’ down let me tell you, you are going to LOVE how I’ve been fixing up the new place.  It’s all freshly painted, and pretty, and it’s absolutely calorie free!  Unlike that pizza you’re eating — that thing is loaded.

Load.

Ed.

And did you not just notice how I got side-tracked, a-gain! 

I am a veritable cuckoo clock these days.  Veritable. And cuckoo.

But I am going to make it up to you big time. 

Epic big. As in, the size-of-a-galaxy big.

When my website is finally finished, I am going to throw a party and you are invited.

We’ll get dressed up.

We’ll talk small.

We’ll have wine, and cheese, and fake crab. I’m even going to throw in some tigers and penguins. In fact, I think I’ll give everyone a new bike. (Hey, this ain’t Oprah).

Don’t worry, Snooki is not invited.  But Angelina says she’s in.  And she’s bringing some guy named Brad Somethingorother. Whatev.

So, my heartfelt apologies for going AWOL.

And, in answer to the heckler at the back of the room…

Noooooooo, “building a new website” is not the excuse I ALWAYS use when I shirk my shit.  Other favorites include, but are not limited to:

I’m too tirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred. 

or….

I can’t. 

And, my personal favorite:

I just had a baby 14 years ago, dammit. What more do you want from me?

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Fine Print:

Since you’re dying to know, I shall give you an itemized account of my oh-so-exciting life these past few weeks and months…

1.  Brooke Castillo hired me to help her out over at the Life Coach School.  It’s one of the best jobs I’ve ever had.  I get to help her coach the coaches in her program and she gets to make me do stuff that I love to do.  She is a brutal boss. Very scary. Very intense. All the rumors about her are true.  I love that about her. I am learning how to be brutal and scary and intense… it’s so much fun!

2. Sitting around doin’ nothin’.

3. Launched my JumpStart to 2012 program.  You should join. Brooke taught me (almost) everything I know.  I could kick her ass at coaching.  Ok, I admit, that was a complete and utter exaggeration, but I am pretty good.  Because Brooke has kicked my ass into goodness.

4. Okay, enough about Brooke.

5. Martha Beck has asked me (and some of her Master Coaches) to make an appearance at IKEA in Detroit, at an event sponsored by O Magazine.  I’ll be showing off my Ninja-style life-coaching skills. I love showing off.  Details to follow.

That’s all I got.

Fine, here’s a picture of Brooke.

Wanna sneak peak at the new joint?

Yes?  Go HERE.

No?   Then go HERE.  (yes, it’s a trick, hahahahahahahahahahaha)

My Year of Blogging Dangerously

I am celebrating my first anniversary as a blogger. 

Let’s hear it for me!  

This is so embarrassing.  

One year ago, on a whim, I decided that, even though it may not be what was expected of me as a respectable woman, lawyer, mom, wife, lip gloss aficionado, and kife loach (!), I came out as The WORST Mother.

Here’s an excerpt from my recent appearance on 60 Minutes, being interviewed by Morley Safer for my outstanding contribution to the World of Blogging.

Morley:  What’s with The WORST Mother and whose family tree did she fall out of?

Me:   Shut up Morley. Go away. You stink.

Morley:   Seriously. Is she you? 

Me:  She’s definitely part of me.  But mostly she’s a stick figure who knows some serious (bleep).

Morley: Why is her hair like that? 

Me:   Why is your hair like that?

Morley: Democrat or Republican? 

Me:  Boxers or Briefs?

Morley: I’ll ask the questions around here.    

Me:  That was not a question.

Morley:  What’s your favorite lip gloss color?

Me:  I want a lawyer.

Morley: Team Edward or Team Jacob? 

Me:  I did not have sex with those boys.

Morley: Can I have a bite of your peanut butter cup? 

Me:  No.

Morley: Do you think Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie will ever get married? 

Me:  Who?

THE END 

And so, without further ado, I bring you The WORST Mother’s Top Ten Favorite Posts in Her Year of Blogging Dangerously. 

10.  I went incognito in this post. See if you can spot me.

 9.  I think everyone should write her own 10 Commandments.  One day I wrote seven.    Workin’ on three more.

8.  This post is about me begging people to like me.  Oy.

 7.  In this one I write more rules.  These rules are intended to make motherhood NOT suck.

 6.  I wrote this one to celebrate my birthday.  Because it’s all about me.

 5.  One day I was desperately looking for some ‘me’ time. Because, repeat after me, it’s all about me.

 4.  Oh, remember the day I went on a spree to kill Everyone?  Double ‘oy’.

 3.  I love this post because it got featured on Freshly Pressed on WordPress. I got 4000 hits in two days. It made me cry with excitement and glee. (Sorry for just bragging a little).

 2.  This one is of me doing the do be do be do. Warning: I’m behaving badly in parts of this one.

 1.  And my Number One Pick for My Year of Blogging Dangerously is: The post you’re reading right now.  Aw, c’mon, I can’t pick my favorite blog post! That’s like asking which one of my kids is my favorite!

Thank you for reading my blog.

I am honored.

What a crazy ride it’s been.

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Fine Print:

The WORST Club is meeting on Tuesday, September 6th at 1 pm Eastern, 10 am Pacific.

JumpSTART to 2012 is a program I’m launching to help get you in the best shape of your life BEFORE the new year–no more diet resolutions!!!  Check it out here.  It’s based on Brooke Castillo fabulous book, If I Am So Smart Why Can’t I Lose Weight?  If you’re new to coaching, this is a great into to it. C’mon girlies… it only hurts when you don’t laugh!

self-flagellation with a cheese danish

I learned about The Cheese Danish when I moved to the United States.  

It’s not like they didn’t have cheese danish in Canada, but they certainly didn’t have The Cheese Danish.

And when I say there was cheese everywhere, I really mean….

everywhere! 

I was introduced to The Cheese Danish by my brand new American friend who thought, being from Canada, I had only ever eaten mutton and walrus. 

She thought I should experience some real food. 

I now believe she was a cheese danish dealer, worse than a drug dealer, because I not only got addicted, I soon found myself selling my soul for TCD.  And even a couple of my kids. 

It was not pretty.  

To battle my TCD addiction I resorted to self-flagellation, followed by another TCD and a diet coke chaser to make myself feel better.  

That lasted all of 12-and-a-half minutes. 

So one day, just for shits and giggles, I decided to investigate the nutritional value of my beloved TCD. 

THAT freaked me out. 

I tried everything to kick the TCD habit: Hypnosis; sleight of hand; TCD Addicts Anonymous;… I even contemplated murdering my friend-slash-pusher.  

The problem, eating too many TCDs, which I tried to blame on everything and everyone else (moving away from my family, my new baby, my tennis serve) wasn’t so much a problem as it was a solution.  

Ding ding ding.  The Cheese Danish wasn’t the problem.  It was my crazy-ass solution for missing home (especially my mom), being stressed as a mom, and not winning 6-0,6-0 every time I played tennis!!!  

Somehow I was using TCD to solve my problems.  

What kind of grown up, smart (ridiculously smart am I), has-it-all-woman!, resorts to eating an inanimate object as a means for problem-solving? 

A woman who doesn’t know any better.  So much for being smart! 

This required a different kind of smart.  

This required emotional intelligence, the only kind of intelligence that matters. Really. If you don’t believe me I’m going to have to sock you one. Let me know.    

Emotional intelligence, according to scientist and author Daniel Goleman, requires self-awareness, self-management, social awareness, and relationship management.

For example, in a marriage relationship, emotional intelligence is the ability to really listen to your spouse as well as be able to communicate your needs, wants, and desires, in a calm but assertive way.

Self awareness is the ability to recognize what’s really going on when you suddenly find yourself with cheese danish crumbs on your face and you pretend to not know how they got there.  You stop blaming your external circumstances (marriage, kids, job, dog) and own up to the fact that The Cheese Danish is on your face because you put it there.  

And that the cheese danish has no power over you. 

The cheese danish is just a combination of ingredients that come together and taste delicious and amazing and make you feel all warm and gooey and… 

Slap…. 

Snap out of it. 

A cheese danish is just a thing. It doesn’t do anything. 

Unless of course you call “tasting good” something TCD does. On purpose. To you. (Yes, I’ve had to slap myself many times.)

The truth is, when we pretend to not have any power over food, people, a tennis serve… we are basically just giving up. Handing our power over to something else or someone else.  

Repeat after me my peeps…. 

That sh!t’s gotta stop. 

LOUDER! 

That sh!t ‘s gotta stop. 

I can”t heeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrre you!!!!!!!

That sh!t’s gotta stop. 

The thing is.  The shit won’t stop. It can’t stop.

Until you decide to stop it.  Until you hit the STOP button.  Until you choose another way.*

Until then, at least try to do this: by all means eat The Cheese Danish, but stop saying you want to lose weight, or improve your marriage, or get a better job. Because you cannot say you want one thing and then keep not doing the things you need to do to get what you want. 

Make sense?  

Be kind to yourself.  Be honest with yourself. Own it.  

Own TCD, don’t let it own you.

Eat it.

Enjoy it.

Love it.

Taste it.

And don’t complain afterwards about having eaten it. 

That’s just not fair to my buddy, The Cheese Danish. Because, really, it didn’t beg you to eat it.

It didn’t ‘make’ you eat it. 

You chose to eat it. 

And when you really want to stop, you will stop. 

I have faith in you. 

Because YOU are the boss of you.  

Pass it on. 

______________________________

*Fine Print: Hey girlies, I have been up to all kinds of trouble. I am just sooooooo bad, as in: amazing. (You know how much I love to brag, right?)

So, here’s what I’m doing– check this out: The Worst Club is goin’ rad. We’re forming a little side-gang to really smarten up!   As in, the good kind of smart. And we’re going to lose weight in the process.  And no, I’m not just talking about weight on your body, I’m talking about the weight in your head. The not-so-smart parts of us that can’t figure out why we’re still eating the damn danish!  Because we don’t want to make another New Year’s Resolution to lose weight.  We want the weight to be gone BEFORE the new year gets here.  Then, we’re going to make a new year’s resolution to show off our kick-ass bodies. It’s called JumpStart to 2012! You in?

Seriously… you have to join in. In four months you will be SMART, in the way that really matters.  Promise.  There is another way my chicas.

My Attempt at the Ten Commandments

And now for those SUGGESTIONS I promised you in # 2, above.

SUGGESTION # 1:  DECIDE to change the way you think about those things you hate about yourself.

For example, I used to beat myself up with the thought “I never finish anything I start.”  I thought this was a very bad bad thing.  Maybe someone said it to me once and it stuck, I don’t know. But I used to care. I mean, I really really cared.

Until, one day, I just decided to stop caring.  My coach helped me see the light… so bright and shiny and much more flattering! So now I just don’t care.  As in, I really don’t shive a git. I really really don’t. Because the old way of thinking didn’t serve me.  All it did was make me feel bad so that I never even wanted to start anything.  Go figure. Makes no sense. But that’s what happens when we believe the lies we tell ourselves.

Here’s what makes sense to me now: I sometimes don’t finish something because I have something else more exciting and compelling to do.

I bloody well LOVE this new way of thinking.  Don’t you?  You can steal it if you like, and you don’t even have to give me credit for it.

But if you’re polite you will.

Just sayin’.

Whatev…

(See, I didn’t even finish that word. And I don’t care!)

And it’s not like I haven’t accomplished stuff in my life.  Jeesh, I could start bragging here, but…

Okay… what the hell…

SUGGESTION # 2: BRAG YOUR ASS OFF! 

Bragging is underrated. I just DECIDED that (I took my own advice in SUGGESTION # 1). If I don’t brag, at least to myself, then how will I ever appreciate all the amazing and wonderful things about me. And I’ve got some pretty damn good stuff goin’ on. I’m gonna brag, to myself, right now… so feel free to tune out.  In fact, I’m just gonna list The Ten Things I Love About Me. (If you’ve heard this before, then, you know I’m pretty darn loveable!)

Here we go.

Put on your seatbelt.

NUMBER 1: I am ridiculously smart. Ridiculously!

NUMBER 2:  I love my feet.  Seriously–look at them!

NUMBER 3:  I can say NO in every language known to mankind.

NUMBER 4:  I can hold the plank pose for 5 whole minutes!

NUMBER 5: I know whose shit is whose. 

NUMBER 6: I invented ‘Talk-Texting.” It’s a real time saver!

NUMBER 7:  My Peanut Butter Cup Pizza is an international sensation!

Okay, I quit. I know I promised you Ten Things but I’m all out.

That’s fine. Remember? I’m a quitter (in a good way), and that’s okay, because, obviously, I’ve got something more exciting and compelling to do….

Like give you SUGGESTION # 3.  You’ll recall, prior to my having distracted you with my bragging, which you may not have paid attention to, I was giving you suggestions about how to learn to love the parts of you that you think you hate. (By the way, thinking is overrated!)

Here’s the best one of all….

SUGGESTION # 3:  Join my gang.

Gang members (we call ourselves Worsties… so adorable we are) get all sorts of love and support and coaching and coupons…  (because I’m also very very nice–hey, that should go on my list!)

Speaking of lists, when you join The WORST Club (cute name, huh?) you get all sorts of value-added member benefits, including – but not limited to – my famous pizza recipe; the only lip gloss to wear when Mercury is in retrograde; hugs; validation for the wonderful person you are; smart-ass comments (I’m also soooo good at those–jeesh, I’m good at so many things!) etc. etc. etc. and so on and so forth.

I am the gang leader. When you say “take me to your leader” you’ll be taken to ME!  And I will give you a paper-clip and a cupcake –bonuses for signing up.

So join The WORST Club, and I won’t have to, you-know… kick you in the shins.

Sign up now.   HERE  

And then pass this on to two friends and then hopefully they’ll pass it on to two friends and so on and so on until the whole world knows how good I am at the plank pose.

I Speak Horse

I spent last week in California learning to speak horse.

Yes.  Horse.  As in– Secretariat, Black Beauty, Barbaro, My Little Pony.

I figured it would be fairly simple, since I had already studied several languages. And I was quite certain I wouldn’t have to learn how to conjugate any verbs, especially the much dreaded past-perfect subjunctive, which is a real bugger to learn, unlike the pluperfect subjunctive,  or le plus-que-parfait du subjonctif (as it’s called in French), a compound tense that used to make me giggle with glee.

Okay, so I just pulled a Pinocchio.

The truth is I hated the plus-que-parfait du subjonctif.  It gave me hives, stunted my growth, and became the root cause of my peanut butter cup addiction.

However….

There are no verbs to conjugate when you speak horse. Hence, it is nonverbal communication.

Get it?

Ahem….

So then, how exactly do you talk to a horse?

It’s all about energy, baby.  It’s about establishing trust and leadership by first clearing your head and heart of any crappy energy that’s accumulated inside of you.  While the mere mortals in your life may choose to deal with, and/or learn to tolerate your low (read: negative) energy, horses will staunchly put their hooves down when in the presence of shitty energy.  If a horse doesn’t respond to you, you pretty much know you’ve got some inner work to do.

You can see this play out on the OWN Network‘s  Finding Sarah.  It’s about the  former Duchess of York, Sarah Ferguson, trying to get her life back on track.  In a recent episode, Sarah was coached by the greatest life coach ever to walk upright on this planet, Martha Beck, and the amazing horse whisperer, Koelle Simpson. Martha and Koelle were trying to teach Fergie how to align herself and her leadership energy in order to get the horse to join up with her.  The process is designed to heal both the human and the horse.

However, since horses are highly sensitive to the energy vibes around them, you simply cannot fake your way into getting a horse to trust you.  A horse knows when you’re faking. Trust me.

That’s why, try as she did, Sarah had a hard time communicating to the horse what she wanted it to do. As a result the horse kept switching directions. The more flustered Sarah became, the more unpredictably the horse behaved.  It wasn’t until Sarah dropped all the negative thoughts and emotions swirling through her head (as evidenced by her body language), that she was able to lead the horse.

And so it was with me, when I got into the pen/ring/stall/corral/bedroom with a horse. I had no clue what I was doing, and neither Martha nor Koelle offered up any advice. They just wanted to see if I had any horse sense at all.

I thought I did fairly well.

Wayyyyyyyyyyy better than Fergie.

Ok, so my energy needed a little tweaking.

Eventually Martha and Koelle explained how one’s energy can move mountains, let alone horses, if we’d just give it a chance.

Kinda like how Lao Tzu says to do without doing.

Kinda like how we ought to be parenting our kids. Or bossing our employees.

Or spousing our spouses.

If things aren’t going right for you in your life, it’s not because of what They are doing, it’s because your energy is out of whack, Jack.

Let me put it to you this way:

If your child, or spouse, were a horse, and you were lazing around in your negative energy, this is what he or she would say to you, nonverbally of course, because horses don’t conjugate verbs. Silly.

We always tend to want to blame other people’s behavior for our own misery.  Just like we might want to blame the horse for not co-operating.

Neigh. Neigh. Neigh.

The moral of the story is this: learning to speak another language can be difficult at times depending on the language because some languages do a lot of verb conjugation which really really sucks believe me I’ve studied a few languages in my day and arghhhhh it can drive you crazy but if you ever try to speak horse you’ll find it’s not like that at all because it’s nonverbal hence there are no verbs to conugate and all you have to do basically is feel the love baby feel the love and because from that place it’s all perfect energy and the horse will follow you everwhere it’s really cool no shit  you should try it.

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Mayday! Mayday! Next meeting of The Worst Club is set for next Tuesday, August 2nd, 1 pm Eastern.  You should come. Or the Ninja-bots will stalk you forever. Not a good thing.

The Things I (Don’t) Do For My Kids

This morning I awoke with a spring in my step.

Literally.

There was an actual spring–one of those little thingys you find inside a ballpoint pen to make the pen click in and out–lodged in my foot.

Owwww.

As I tried to catch myself from falling head-first into the laundry basket, I recalled being taught that the best way to fall was to relax the body, tuck the head in, and roll.

All I remember next is that I was in the kitchen, happily making breakfast for my gaggle of girls and a teenage boy who wouldn’t be out of bed until closer to
dinner time.

Teenagers are so adorable when they’re asleep.

As is my ritual during the lazy months of summer, I went outside to snip some  roses from the lovely rose garden which I tend to daily.

Lovingly, I carried them into the kitchen and placed them in the crystal bud vases on each (yes, each) of my cherub’s four place mats, right next to the linen napkins I had folded into various shapes; a dolphin, a hummingbird, a daffodil…

…and a Pamela Anderson-shaped napkin for my hormone-powered son. I actually needed two napkins for Pamela, bless her giant boobs heart.

I hope my darling boy appreciates my thoughtfulness.

Next I took out the flaky, home-made croissants (made by me, in my home) I had warmed in the oven. I placed four cute little jars of preserves at each (once again, that was each) place setting–apricot, strawberry, peach, and marmalade.

I like my children to have options.

When I’m serving croissants (as opposed to brioches, or crepes, or my out-of-this-world home-made waffles), I prefer to use our special little crystal side-dishes. That’s so my sweet munchkins can see through their plates to those placemats I mentioned above–each one hand-made, by me, in a collage of pictures chronicling their childhood adventures.

There’s that time we went whale riding in Honolulu…

And white-water rafting in Alaska; and of course there’s the time we were all sipping hot cocoa atop the Swiss Alps after an arduous day of skiing….

Ah, the memories.

As we all sit down happily to eat the delicious breakfast, my darling babies compliment me on my culinary skills and we all giggle as we reminisce about our  globe-trotting experiences and brainstorm ideas about how we’ll spend  yet another glorious summer day together.

Maybe we should go rock climbing… but surely not before going to the museum for a daily dose of the arts.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder,  shaking me.

What the….???

Mom, why are you on the floor? Why are you bleeding?

Um. Let me see. I woke up with a spring in my step and I must’ve tripped and hit my head. I think I fainted. I must’ve been dreaming.

Whatever, Mom! Can we puh-lease have something to eat?

What do you think this is, a restaurant? Go grab some frozen waffles and throw them in the toaster. And don’t forget to use the paper
plates!

Because I don’t do dishes.

And whale-riding is for sissies.

 

 

The Things I Do For You!

I’m gonna go all rogue here and say something a mother should never admit.

Never!

It’s just bad form.

It goes against the rules of mommyquette.

But, since I am your leader, I shall proceed.

First I need to put on my disguise.

No one must ever know I said this.

Oy… the things I do for you.

Promise you won’t blow my cover?

Wouldn’t want anyone gettin’ all up in my grill for tellin’ it like it is.

Ok, here goes.

Hmmmmmmm?

What’s that?

Louder, you say?

Okayyyy….

Huh?

I’m slurring my words?

Fine.

But please understand this is hard for me to say out loud.

And remember…

…be nice!

Here goes…

See?

I knew it!

I should’ve worn the bigger glasses!

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

You judged me. You really judged me.

And I thought you loved me.

I hope you feel really bad about this.

Because you made an assumption about me.

Aha! I caught you.

I bribe my kids is just another way of saying I use cajoling, rewards, stickers and the occasional junk bond or t bill to get the behavior I demand desire.

It’s all manipulation to me.

We just don’t like to call it that.

It’s the word that got you, right?

I get it.

We often get baited by the words.

And when we fall for the bait, we jump in and start to judge.  Or get angry. Or defend.

Or kick someone in the shins.

In other words, we lose.

Don’t fall for words.

They are just words.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooo….

I bet you thought this post was about bribery.

Hahahahahaha. 

I disguised this post about word-bait by using bribery as a disguise.

Me so clever.

Ok, that makes no sense. I’ll give you that.

But do you see what I’m saying my little chicas?

Don’t fall for the word-bait.

And no, I did not tell you what to do.

I told you what not to do.

Besides, I am your leader.

Kinda like the Queen Mother, only I have a bigger crown.

And I let common folk hug me whenever they want.

You still love me. I can tell.

 

My Story Sucks. And I’m Sticking To It.

My lovely and dear one-legged friend Kataronica loves a man who does not love her.  Or… he doesn’t love her the way she wants to be loved.

This makes her very sad.

It’s not the first time this has happened to her.  In fact, she says it’s a pattern she’s become used to.

Kataronic is very sad that this jerk guy won’t love her back. But instead of thinking that there must be something wrong with him if he doesn’t love her, she makes it all about her.

All of it.

She says it’s because there’s something terribly and horribly wrong. With her.

She is unlovable.

Kataronica believes this with every fiber of her being.

She. Is. Unlovable.  Full stop.

So I asked Katty why she believed this and she said it’s because her mother never loved her, never wanted her.

As a little girl she latched on to the (hugely mistaken) belief that the reason her mother didn’t love or want her was because of something that was wrong with Kataronica, not her mother. And ever since then, Kataronica has placed a huge importance on how other people feel about her, especially the men in her life.

And just about all of them have proven Kataronica’s theory to be completely true: that she is unlovable, unwanted.

Unworthy.

Hmmm.  I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.

And, let me tell you, it’s pretty much impossible to talk her out of it.  I’ve given her a huge list of reasons that prove she is lovable.

If you met Kataronica I just know you would think this: she’s so lovely, and kind-hearted and fun to be with.

And you would try so hard to convince her that she is all those things.

And it would be futile.

Because as long as she has the core belief that she is unwanted and therefore unlovable, no one will ever ever never ever never ever ever never ever! convince her otherwise.

Unless…

She decides she’s ready to let go of her security blanket, which is pretty much what her old story is for her. Here’s why…

Kataronica’s story is incredibly familiar to her.  In a weird and crazy way, it’s even comfortable.  It serves a purpose.  Re-writing her old story means Kataronica would have to give up her old way of thinking about herself in relationship to everyone else in the world. She would have to give up her little-girl beliefs for ones that make sense from a grown woman perspective.

In fact, if grown-up Kataronica were to magically come face to face with little-girl Kataronica, I’m guessing she would fall in love with her young self, instantly.  She would see the innocent child’s flawed thinking. She could then come to the realization that her mother had her own shit shirtsleeves and she was incapable of wanting and loving a child… any child.

In other words, how her mother felt or didn’t feel has nothing to do with Kataronica.

Yes.  Well….

The really cool thing is, Kataronica says she may be ready to grow up, in the most powerful sense of the word(s).  She’s finally become weary of her story. She’s starting to think that it may be a load of, well, shirtsleeves.

There’s been a chink in the armor that protects her story.  She senses there is another way.  She’s starting to challenge her own thinking.

She’s starting to re-write her story. Starting with…

Maybe I am enough, just the way I am.  

And this is how Katty makes room for grown-up men to start showing up in her life.

And don’t we all just LOVE grown-up men.

—————————————————

June Cleaver Must Die Too!

Remember when I was telling you how Everyone must die, along with Everybody, Them, and They?

I forgot one.

June Cleaver. 

You may have heard that Junie C was TV’s icon of a mother in the fifties.

Well, she turned out to be the mother of Them all.  Pun intentionally intended

That’s why June Cleaver is soooooooooooo goin’ down!

I’m in the midst of plotting her death with my co-conspirator Patty Lennon.  Wanna help?  Of course you do.

Yes, you must come with me on this (mostly) excellent adventure of intrigue, espionage, and murder.

Oh, excuse me… you want an explanation for this murderous plot before you commit?

Fine.

Here it is:

June Cleaver became known as America’s Mom on the popular television sitcom Leave It To Beaver. However, the dirty little secret, which I’m totally making up, is that when the television cameras stopped rolling, little-miss-perfect mother Junebug would throw herself on a couch, pull out a candy bar, and start yelling at The Beav to put a sock in it.

She had such a potty mouth, June Cleaver did.

Hmmmm… bet you didn’t know that scintillating little tidbit  did you?

Still don’t believe me?

Well, I’ve got the photoshopped pictures to prove it!

Need more ‘splainin’?

Okay… you asked for it:

June Cleaver, with her pretty and perfectly coiffed hair, tiny waist, and sensible shoes, made moms all over America start second-guessing themselves. IT’S ALL HER FAULT that mothers started to question their own sanity and began looking over their shoulders to see what all the other moms were doing.

AND… they began to lower themselves further and further down the family totem pole.

As in: all the way down to the bottom.

Is this starting to make sense? Are you beginning to see why Junie-Two-Shoes has got to go? Then get out your cleaver (hahaha), um, poison sword (mine is disguised as a tube of lip gloss, natch) because that chick is going down.

Hard.

And fast.

Who knew plotting a murder would be so much fun!?

I know what you’re thinking:

She (as in, moi) used to be such a nice girl. She was always baking (burnt) cookies and giving out (stale) candy. She was always trying to help people.  She was such a quiet neighbor. Now look what’s happened to her.

She must’a snapped.

Okay, so I’ve snapped.

But just a little.

Can’t a girl get a break?  It’s not like I’ve killed before.

Wait, yes I have.  But They deserved it.

And so does JC.  Oh my goodness, I just noticed those initials. Yikes!

Seriously now…

June Cleaver is a lie.

She penetrated America’s collective psyche and burned a hole in it with the messed up message that women were less than, and moms were less than that. That Everyone and Everything else came first.

Oh, I know, she didn’t mean it. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it, poor thing.  She was the fantasy concocted by the producers, directors, and writers of the show: she embodied the so-called ‘ideal woman.’  Basically, she was the first Stepford Wife.  

Women took the bait and soon found themselves constructing their identities around the June Cleaver model.

And so it began.

That’s when the shoulds and have-to’s and supposed-to’s came flooding in.  In torrents.

It was as if there were a political-socio-economic effort to reconstruct Woman’s role as that of wife, mom, home-maker.  World War II was over.  Women belonged back at home. Otherwise the sky would fall.

Yeah yeah, you know the story.

But I want to have a career.

The war is over honey, get back in the house.

But I want more. 

You should be happy at home.

But I want to do something else.

Why can’t you just be like June Cleaver?   

Then along came Gloria Steinem.

Then along came Martha Stewart.

Then along came Oprah.

WHAT THE FRUIT LOOPS!

Confused yet?

Fine, let’s get back to my murderous plot, which is far less complicated.

It goes like this…

As is so clearly illustrated above, being a woman is the greatest invention since Adam.

How did we forget that?  Oh yeah… it’s all June’s fault.  Poor June. She meant well. I think.

And now it’s time to turn that ship around for YOU, my fair maidens.

Oprah always talks about living your best life, and this is what that really looks like:

Being on top means….

Staying home and being a mom; as long as that is what fills your soul.

OR…

Going to work, as long as your job fills your soul.

OR…

Staying home, baking (or burning, who really cares) cookies, loving your babies and your husband, taking care of the house and all the things that make it a home, as long as it fills your soul.

OR…

Anything else YOUR HEART desires (as opposed to what someone else desires for you), like: working part-time if you want to, writing a book, or painting, or making a paper mache totem pole with you on top…  whatever floats your boat, as long as it fills your soul. 

It’s the filling your soul part that ought to be your number one priority.

Number. ONE.

When you fill your soul first you automatically pass it on to the people in your life, especially the ones closest to you.

How do you do that?

Well, first of all, you don’t have to quit your job or get a job or leave your husband or unbirth your kids. (The last one is really really hard. Don’t bother trying.)

You do have to commit to finding out  exactly what it is that would put you back on top.

If you’re not sure, then get in on the murderous plot, I tell you!  This is more than a conspiracy theory poppets. There is a way to actually do this “fill your soul/get-back-on-top” thing.

You can’t not do this. It’s your key. Your holy grail. Your big AhaHA!!! (Because it’s bigger than a mere “Aha”).

Are you in?

Good. Then go here.

Or I am going to have to kill you too.

——————–