The Happiness Formula

7 April 2014 by 4 Comments

If you’ve ever found yourself rifling through the self-help aisle at a bookstore, or sat through a few sessions on Oprah.com, you know there is a shit-ton of advice out there on how to be happy.  There’s even a Happiness Project movement, based on the book by Gretchen Rubin that you can start up with friends and follow. 

And quite honestly, all that information is pretty freakin’ confusing and contradictory.

For instance, here’s what I’ve gleaned are just some of the things I should be doing on a daily basis to help foster a warm and fuzzy feeling of happiness:

  • Get enough sleep,
  • But get up early to mediate for 20 minutes a day before everyone else wakes up.
  • Take time for myself,
  • But be sure to give my kids and husband my undivided, smart phone-free attention.
  • Work out or be active every day,
  • But don’t overschedule myself.
  • Be optimistic and less negative.  In other words, stop being such a fucking jerk,
  • But don’t be so hard on myself.
  • Have an organized home so that the clutter doesn’t interfere with my chi, and clean my sink daily,
  • But don’t stress out about squeezing in mundane tasks like cleaning and laundry so that I can spend more quality time with my family.

And don’t you know, my curmudgeony self has tried to cram all of this in to any given day in an effort to put more smiles on my face and hopefully piss off the members of my household less.

The only thing I felt at the end of the day was that I was harboring a multiple personality disorder and a filthy kitchen.

Seriously, how can one person fit all of this crap in to any given day?  And still be able to get to bed early enough to wake at the ass crack of dawn to center themselves?

It just seems nearly impossible.  Because by my calculations, there just isn’t enough time in my day.

The formula for happiness is pretty subjective.  What makes me happy may not make my husband happy, or my neighbor happy, or Jason Bateman happy.  Though, maybe Jason Bateman might make my neighbor happy.  How do I know?

But in my search for happiness, I’ve learned that it may or may not be achieved by cramming in an hour of meditation, or sweating my ass off on the treadmill while I eat kale in to what seems to be an already packed schedule.  But instead, sometimes the key to happiness isn’t doing more, but doing less.

Less holding on to the idea that my house needs to be spotless, and that everyone residing in it needs to have the same standards.  Less letting moods fester.  Less letting that little voice in my head feed me with insecurity, anxiety and ammunition.  Less Flappy Birds.

But, don’t get me wrong.  More sweet kisses from the ones I love and pints of Graeter’s Black Raspberry Chip ice cream wouldn’t hurt, either.

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Filed Under: happiness

Boxtop Jenkins (and giveaway!) on Kid Tune Tuesday…

27 November 2012 by 27 Comments

Have I mentioned that my daughter has a flair for the dramatic?  She will hang on to a sour mood like a vicious dog clings to a piece of meat, and will not let go.

One thing that has worked with some mild success it asking her to fake it ’till she makes it.  Culling her incredible acting skills, I encourage her to “pretend to be happy!”  And sometimes, she’ll turn to me, those crocodile tears barely out of her tear ducts, and bat her eyelashes while coyly smile at me.  Oscar material, right there folks.

Boxtop Jenkins
(Photo courtesy Boxtop Jenkins)

As we were driving in the car one day about a month ago, I heard a new song on , from an artist I didn’t recognize: Boxtop Jenkins.  The song was titled “Wag More,” the story of a dog who might just have the secret to happiness…

Wag more, bark less.  Delivered in a toe-tapping song that makes frowning while listening darn near impossible.  Then I made a mental note that this song might be a perfect fit for Kid Tune Tuesday.

As if the universe was trying to tell me something, the folks at Boxtop Jenkins contacted me to see if I would take a listen to the CD and give it a review.  Now, let me state a disclaimer right here:  This is the first time I have ever been contacted to write a review.  It makes me a bit sweaty.  But I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I hadn’t initially been so drawn to “Wag More.”

Musically, this song is a rip-roaring good time.  It’s upbeat, really fun to dance to, and has my favorite sound bite of all time, a panting dog.  Lead singer Boxtop Jenkins (Franklin Bunn) has some help on this tune with the Indigo Girls singing back up vocals, providing lush harmony to the southern sound of the tune.

“Wag More” is probably the strongest song on the album You’re Happier When You’re Happy, though there are other front runners, including “Toast and Jelly” and “Swinging Monkeys,” featuring hunka hunka burnin’ Elvis vocals.

And now for the results (“Out of 5″ Sippy Cup Rating System):

MR B:  Not quite the “House Music” I’d prefer, but I like it…
MISS P:  I’m not a dog, but I can wiggle my tushie!  
MOMMY:  This song stays with me…  

 

And now, I present to you….MY FIRST GIVEAWAY! Whoohoo!

I’m giving away 2 copies of Boxtop Jenkins’ You’re Happier When You’re Happy CD. And just in time for the holidays!

All you have to do is enter the Rafflecopter thingy below.  Deadline to enter is Friday November 30th at midnight EST.  Available to U.S. Residents only.

 

Boxtop Jenkins’ You’re Happier When You’re Happy can also be purchased through his site,  CD Baby or iTunes

 

I was provided one or more copies of the products mentioned above for free evaluation purposes.  I received this product at no charge to me and I am free to keep it for my own personal use without obligation to return it.  All opinions are 100% completely my own.

I have been nominated for Circle of Moms’ Top 25 Funny Moms! But I need YOUR VOTES to help me finish in the Top 25! I’m lumped in with some big Titans of Funny, so my chances are slim, but YOUR vote can help me get there. Just click on that nifty badge below and vote. You can vote once a day, every day until February 13th at 4pm PST. I’d appreciate it!

Filed Under: happiness, kid music, Kid Tune Tuesday

Om my gosh: how yoga might just save me…

11 October 2012 by 6 Comments

I didn’t intend to start the day with a yoga class.  It wasn’t even on my radar.  My plan was to spend enough time on the elliptical machine to break out a sweat and burn enough calories to offset my quota of PopTarts I’d eaten for breakfast.  But walking down the hallway, I ran in to a mother from the kids’ school who roped me in to going to a yoga class with her.  And this yoga class?  It might just be my salvation.  The answer to everything that I’m struggling with right now.  The alternative to Zoloft.

Discounting the yoga that I’d done with P90X (I mean, I love Tony Horton as much as the next guy, but he’s not necessarily B.K.S. Iyengar), the last time I’d taken an organized yoga class was the low-energy prenatal yoga classes I’d taken when pregnant with Miss P.  Before that, it was the slightly-crazy class I attended with a friend in NYC that was so filled with yoga fanatics that I felt insecure and inadequate that I couldn’t even look the teacher in the eye.  And even WAY before that, the last time I’d done yoga regularly was over a decade ago.

So, yeah, it’d been a while.

I was nervous, intimidated, and wrought with all those First Encounter Jitters:  Where do I put my shoes? How should I lay out my mat?  Do I need all that gear?  Am I supposed to be stretching before we begin, or can I just sit here and chat with my friend?  And, God forbid, what if I queef?

We started out with some stretching and I quickly realized I wasn’t dressed for yoga.  I had on a baggy camisole and baggy sweats, and when the room began to get toasty, I was a floppy mess.  Still, the stretching…my God, THE STRETCHING.  My body was eternally grateful for all of those twists and bends, simultaneously cursing me for not stretching more regularly.

Then we started to move through asanas, did some balance poses, some abdominal strengthening, and before I knew it, the yoga class was over.  And, man, did I feel great.  For the first time since we’ve moved here, I felt connected back to my body.  The teacher (also a mom, who had told us she was up most of the night with a croupy kid) kept instilling this mantra (for us? or for her?):  This is for YOU, this is YOUR time.  All that other crap that’s coming in to your head? Drop it.

And I did.

All that breathing, stretching, strengthening, moving, it felt glorious.  Like the missing link.  In that yoga class, I realized how much I miss dancing.  Moving my body in a three-dimensional way.  Feeling grounded.  Feeling home.

And that euphoria?  It lasted for the rest of the day.  What a bonus, right?  I found myself getting less wigged out over every little thing my kids did that might otherwise annoy me.  I didn’t have my usual late-afternoon headache.  And I actually felt good about myself.  How did I forget about yoga?  I knew it was out there, that there were classes at the gym.  Why didn’t I do this sooner?  I’ll tell you why…my stupid mind fed me all sorts of excuses, filled me with fear of the unknown, of what might happen, or of how ridiculous I might look.  I’m so grateful for the mom that talked me in to going with her.  Sometimes all we need is a little push in the right direction.

This yoga class might just be the answer to the loss I feel about not having a dance career anymore.  I knew, deep down inside, that I’d been mourning that aspect of my life, but I don’t think I’ve come to terms with and accepted it just yet.  Yoga might be the gentle hand that leads me over to the other side of my career transition.

As they say at the end of a yoga class, namaste.  Namaste indeed.

Filed Under: dancing, depression, happiness, mid-career crisis, p90x

Girls just wanna have fun…

11 April 2011 by Leave a Comment

I’ve been trying to give myself one goal each week, with the added agenda that every morning, I will decide what one thing I can do that day to move yourself further towards that goal.

Last week’s goal was Acceptance. Dealing with the things I cannot change, and changing the things I can. And it worked pretty well. I could bitch and moan about getting stuck in the center seat, or just accept it and enjoy the fact that I was flying without children.  Choosing between feeling pissed off and frustrated that Miss P was über-clingy and wanted to be held all the time, getting angry that I had this growth on my hip; r, enjoying the simple fact that she needed me, wanted me, and that the time of her not wanting anything to do with me will come soon enough.  It’s all about directions, and what path I want to take.  It’s an easier path to feeling miserable.  But the harder path to being content is worth it.  It’s been an interesting experiment. Not entirely easy, but it DID make things easy-er.  The women in my family have a long history of enjoying playing the victim.  I’ve inherited that as much as I’ve inherited my brown eyes.  And I don’t want to pass that way of being on to my daughter.  It’s a pattern I want stopped, now.

This week’s goal?  Have Fun.  FUN.  F.  U.  N.  I miss being carefree.  And it’s no one’s fault by my own.  I’ve gotten used to that feeling of misery and burden.  But I’m really the only one that’s placed that burden on myself.  I have the most supportive husband, who is the most involved father I’ve ever met.  I have kids that are fairly well behaved.  And my dear husband works so freakin’ hard for everything we have, the roof over our heads, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, and so that I don’t have to work.  AND, I’m given the luxury of being able to dance twice a week.  What more could I ask for?  I feel nothing but grateful.  So, instead of getting miffed about the little things (and, c’mon, dishes and clutter ARE little things in the grand scheme of life), I want to let my anger go and just enjoy what good things we do have.  I want to be silly with my kids.  Be in a good mood.

Norman Vincent Peale writes in his book, The Power of Positive Thinking about a man who seemed overly happy and someone said sarcastically,

“You certainly seem to be happy this morning. Why all the cheer?” “Yes,” the man answered, “I am happy. I make it a habit to be happy.”

Why stew in a foul mood, right?  I find myself telling the kids that no one likes a crabby patty.  And I have to walk the walk.  So, today, I won’t worry.  I’ll be happy.  Oooooh, ooh ooh, ooh ooh ooh ooooooooooohhhh….(insert whistle)

Filed Under: fun, happiness, self-improvement