Brain Farts.

I’ve been having a lot of them lately and they are making it hard to sit and write about all the muchness that is actually happening all around me- Big things, from working on MUCHNESS TV(!!!!!) to little things, like how incredible the gourmet chocolate shop, neuhaus, in the mall was. And the more I try to get to the bottom of this case of mental flatulence, the worse it gets.

It is also August. The shadow of September looms in these warm months. I am missing the twins a lot. Thinking about them. I wonder if it would be different if I’d chosen a different path after they died. If I did what so many people try to do- take that pain, lock it in a box, and move forward, never to speak of it in polite company. If I didn’t create this beautiful project as a tribute to them, if I didn’t create a place for me to speak of them. Maybe I’d think of them less? Maybe I’d be further along in my grief? Further Behind?

Anyway, hoping that just releasing some of my feelings will, um, release some of my feelings so I can get back in the swing of things. Because really, things are swinging!

Today I went to the Mall. Not a place I head to frequently but I needed to pickup some Thank You Cards and knew Papyrus would have some super Muchy ones (I was right)

…and a whole host of other Muchtastic glittery cards!

I was feeling sorta ‘ehhh’ about all the stuff I mentioned above when this chocolate shop caught my eye.

OMG— I loved how they just filled these cases with perfectly perfect mounds of mini chocolates all lined up just so perfectly. I walked in and the woman that worked there gave me this one to try. I thought it was poetic, since it was actually sparkly! I’ve never seen sparkly chocolate!

And if I tell you, that hint was devine!

So I bought two more and left the shop, only to be drawn into LUSH- that shop that sells all natural creams and lotions and potions and soaps.

So, this is why I never head to the mall. I always end up romanced into buying shit I never knew I wanted and didn’t know I needed. I walked into the store because the stuff looked beautiful and colorful and Muchy and I was needing a little of that.

Look- they even have gold bath salts!!

The women offered to give me a mini ‘treatment” on my hands using one of their rubs.

It felt nice.

It smelled good.

I bought it.

Then, they showed me their color wheel. She sat me down and spun the wheel while I held my eyes shut. She instructed me to open my eyes and select the three colors that I felt drawn to, today. Not my favorite colors,per sé, but the colors which grabbed me by the Muchness Meter. (My words. 😉 )

These are the three I selected:

She then “read” me my feelings for the day and kaboom! They were right on target!

After that, I told her about The Muchness Bands which ALSO have a color associated with a positive and inspiring feeling!!! I told her how when people wear their muchness bands they are reminded to look around for their Muchness Moments and see the light and positivity all around them!! (Are you a Member of the Finding My Muchness Community? Log in to your account for info on a special weekend sale on Muchness Bands!!!, Not a member, sign up now!!)

As I am wrapping up this post, I received a text from a friend telling me that this site has inspired her friend to do something huge!Love how the positive energy comes just when I need it the most!



Seeing ourselves as beautiful… everyday.

Every day, while walking to work through the NY Garment district, I pass a bunch of buildings. They have recently been doing some construction on one of the older ones. I think it used to be a fabric store that had been there since the dawn of man, and I suppose they’ve recently leased it to this variety store. They’ve been doing the construction for a while but I honestly didn’t even notice. I walk by the store, usually on the same side as the building and, well, I had no idea.

Then, yesterday, I walked by on the side of the street opposite the construction. And that’s when I saw what was going on. I don’t know how I missed it before, but they are making this old, invisible store beautiful. They are scraping off the old paint, patching the cracks and breaks and  reviving the old architectural details that were probably hand crafted at the turn of the last century.

I feel like even if I’d seen this activity going on it still wouldn’t have really impacted me. But what I saw it from a distance, I could see the bigger picture:

See that? It’s the Before -Middle – After all at the same time.

I don’t know why, it just made me stop in my tracks and shoot the pictures. The whole rest of the way to work I thought about how – or maybe why- this was so compelling to me. I’m still not sure I’ve figured it out exactly, but it’s like, this beauty was there the whole time. Maybe the previous tenants saw it but didn’t care. Or maybe they saw a hint of the beauty in it, but decided it wasn’t worth investing the money to revive it. Or maybe they never saw it at all. But because they never did anything to share the beauty of their building, I never, ever noticed it. But this new tenant, he saw and recognized the beauty there. He put people to work to draw it out. He not only cleaned up the broken and neglected parts, and he not only painted it in a clean, fresh white, he decided to Celebrate the nuances and beautiful detail of the architecture by painting it—Muchy Silver— of all things!

And then I started thinking about us, as people. I think we all have areas about ourselves that are beautiful, that look, metaphorically, sorta like that “before” window. We don’t see the beauty there, or we don’t allow ourselves to see or share it’s value, we don’t nourish and express those parts of ourselves, even though, somewhere, deep down, we know that there is beauty there. Maybe we tell ourselves it’s not worth the effort. And sometimes it takes someone new in our lives who DOES see that beauty, who looks at us with fresh eyes to remind us that what we’ve got going on there IS beautiful. But then I started thinking that maybe it’s not only about someone else seeing it. Maybe the key is making the conscious choice, the daily effort to see ourselves through those fresh eyes. See our own potential for beauty where we may have been overlooking it before.

In a way, that’s actually what The Muchness Challenge does. Choosing to look at your world through these fresh eyes and think creatively for 30 days about the joy and beauty around you, opens you up to see the beauty within you. It’s really been so remarkable to see the challengers blossom as they go through the 30 days… It’s kinda like watching those windows go from sad and neglected to bright and Muchtastic.

I feel so grateful any time someone takes the 30 day challenge. I started this project because I LOVE being able to offer people an actionable way to put a smile on their face and find joy, and ultimately, reconnect with their identity and passion. If you’re thinking of taking the Challenge but don’t know where to start, Please contact me and let me help you muster up the courage and direction to get started. I LOVE doing that.

If you’re thinking you’d like to but aren’t quite ready, here’s a secret tip… In September we will be doing a Group Challenge that will not only help you tap into your Muchness, it’ll also teach you some incredible photography tips… AND we will even get a chance to chat online- face to face!! 🙂 I’m really excited about it! Stay tuned for more info to follow!!!

MUCHNESS strikes again!!!

So there I was, trolling through the Joe Fresh store, mostly just because I needed a break from the blazing heat. The salesgirl comes up behind me- “Can I help you find somet—- OH MY GOD I LOVE YOUR SHOES!!!! They make me feel so happy!!”—-
I told her that making people happy via happy “stuff” is my goal in life. (One of them… true story) Obviously, I have a new BFF. I even asked her to take a picture with me so I could write this blog post because it was such an awesome MUCHNESS MOMENT and we all know, MUCHNESS moments are meant to be shared!!

Oh, and the happy making shoes? Just my everyday loaf around the house platforms:


Thank You JetBlue flight attendant, for failing to attend to our in-flight needs.

Muchness is all about the little things and how you choose to interpret them. When Molly was a baby, flying was so high on our “stuff that’s gonna stress us out so we’re not gonna do it” list that we actually refrained from taking vacations. When she was 8 months she had a screaming/crying fit on an airplane (before we ever even left the ground) so hysterically loud and long that I eventually handed her to the flight attendant and burst into tears myself. Thinking back to that nightmare, I realize the primary cause of my stress was concern for what everyone else on the plane thought of us and our uncontrollable, screaming baby.

But oh, how times have changed.

Since starting this journey to Find My Muchness, I’ve also found my confidence and my ability to let my perception of others opinions of lots of stuff roll off my back. In the airport today, Molly had a tantrum. Liat wanted to sit in the pink stroller. Since Molly had been sitting in it the whole time, I put Liat in it after we went through security. Molly wasn’t having it. I could have easily switched Liat to the gray stroller where she would have been crying but managable, but Molly can’t just demand her way by causing chaos. And chaos she caused. Kicking and screaming and the whole bit. I picked her up (as she clawed at my face) and sat her on a bench for a good old fashioned time out. People were staring. I didn’t care. Because I was parenting my child, rather than letting her parent me. In the end, Molly walked. Gave me a hug and apologized, and I bought her pretzels because I’m a sucker. But I never lost my cool. And for that, I felt pretty Muchtastic. (especially in 5″ platforms. Just sayin’)


Fast forward.

We’re on the plane. Molly tells me she has a tummy ache. I ask her if she has to poop. Affirmative. I cross my fingers and ask her if she wants me to go with her. I will her to say “no- I can go alone” but my powers of non-verbal persuasion are not so strong. “Yes.” is her reply.

In the tiny bathroom she freaks out. It’s dirty. I mean really dirty. OK. I steel myself, grab a fistful of tissues and clean the seat, then cover it with a seat cover. She reluctantly sits. “Mommy, hold my hands.”  Um hmm. OK. 10 seconds later “Mommy, I don’t have to go anymore.” uuuh, no. Performance anxiety is not an option. I am NOT doing this again. I crouch down and tell her she’s gotta make it work. But I know my daughter. She’s shy and private (she’d love to know about this post, I’m sure)  so I tell her I’ll cover my ears and close my eyes so she can have her privacy. So that’s what I do. And she holds onto my forearms, my eyes closed, fingers in my ears, my face inches from hers. As she does her business I hear her say “I love you Mommy”…. I pretend not to hear her, partially so she’ll believe I can’t hear her and partially because I want to hear it again.

“Did you say something?” I ask, and she repeats “Mommy, I love you” and I reply “I love you too, sweety.” and I think, “Yes. This is love.”  and this vision popped in my head:

Yes. That is a crown. She's been wearing it since her birthday a month ago.


and then we left the bathroom, went back to our seats and I drew my little picture.

But ya know, neither of those stories is the point of this post. They were just the lead in to the main event. And the post is getting rather long so I apologize. And now, the main event:

This was perhaps the most turbulent flight I remember ever taking. As the captain announced 35 minutes to landing I turned to look at Molly and she was a faint shade of green. I knew we were en route to the inevitable. I reached around Liat who was sitting on my lap and pulled out the vomit bag from the seat pocket in front of me and opened it wide. I asked her if she felt sick. Yes. Yes she did. I asked her if she was going to throw up. No. She wasn’t going to throw up but she wasn’t feeling well. But I know my daughter. No sooner had I turned away then she was losing her lunch all over the place. I grabbed the bag and tried to contain what I could but she was exploding like a fire hydrant in the bronx on an August afternoon. It was not pretty. Elie was calling “Give me Liat! Give me Liat!” since she was trapped on my lap inside my arms which were looped around to Molly’s face. Between explosions of vomit, (there were no less than three full-on eruptions) Molly was sobbing loudly. Poor baby was so embarrassed and sick. Liat was crying too. The air was filling with the stench of vomit and I was trying frantically to contain the mess and reassure Molly. I glanced around for the flight attendant, assuming she’d be right there to offer assistance since we were at the back of the plane, but the only thing I saw when I looked up from our pit of vomit is the eyeballs of every passenger within eye or earshot glaring our way. OK.

At that point I was, without exaggeration, covered past my wrists in vomit. Molly’s entire dress front was covered and half our seats.

I reached into our bag and pulled out a package of baby wipes and got to work. I’d already used two of our three vomit bags and we were still high up in the air, bouncing around like popcorn kernels in a frying pan.

Where the hell is the flight attendant? I guess she’s belted in the back prepared for landing? I guess this means we’re landing soon, thank god. 

Molly was starting to calm down. As I’m cleaning her I heard the woman in the seat behind us tell the man next to her he might want to clean his shoe. Horrified, I offer him a wipe, but he says it missed his shoe. Small blessings.

I finally started to feel like we had it under control and I turned to Elie who is wrestling to keep Liat still. Liat, however, was a familiar shade of green.

I reached around to grab the third vomit bag but I was too late.

Whatever part of my body avoided Molly’s explosion got the full vomit experience from Liat. I barely caught anything in the bag. And Elie wasn’t spared either. There was previously digested Apple Jacks everywhere.


The woman across from us was fanning herself with a  magazine and blocking her face. I heard someone gagging two rows behind us. I saw eyeballs glaring at us every-which way I turned. Everyone’s eyeballs EXCEPT THE DAMN FLIGHT ATTENDANT!!! 

Thankfully, the package of wipes was practically new so I had enough to get us moderately clean. But I also had two bags full of vomit, and a pile of vomit covered wipes and nowhere to put them.

But ya know what? I was OK. I was calm, and was almost laughing at the overwhelming insanity of this explosion all around us, reassuring the girls that they were OK and would get nice and clean at home, and, much to my surprise, feeling by and large, confident and in-control.

And then, the captain announced: “We are about to make our decent into Newark International Airport, Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for arrival”


You mean to tell me that flight attendant was just dilly dallying in her little hideaway three rows behind us while my kids ejected two days worth of junkfood all over the place?? You couldn’t even bother to pop your head out when the sounds of yacking filled the air, and the unmistakable  aroma of vomit wafted through the cabin? No offer of a towel? A garbage bag? An extra vomit bag, ya know “just in case”? Not even the offer of offering whatever she might have to offer??

When I heard the captains announcement, I just lost it. I turned to Elie and demanded he answer the unanswerable question: “ARE YOU EFFIN KIDDING ME?!?” And then, I made the ultimate declaration: “That’s it. I’m gonna blog about this.” and here we are.

And so, to the flight attendant Heather, who emerged from her hideaway after landing, wearing her fancy blue rubber gloves, carrying her pretty blue garbage bag, I’m writing this to let you know that it was ME who left the two open bags of vomit on the seats, and the mound of used baby wipes all over the floor. I do hope you had a hell of a time cleaning it up.

This is the age of social media and when you sit around reading trashy romance novels or doing whatever you may be doing in your little hideaway while children on your flight are strapped in their seats and vomiting all over the place less than 15 feet away from you, you are gonna get called on it. And your picture is gonna get taken. And if you’re lucky, the person taking your picture is Muchy and too kind to show your face to the world (…or her few hundred readers…) so she puts a “Girls Gone Wild” black bar over your eyes.

You know who you are Heather. Think about what you’ve done.

Unexpected Muchness on this Thursday afternoon…

Why was this day different than all other days? (shout out to The Mah Nishtana singing Jewish people in the house… Oh-and this post has zero to do with the fact that Passover starts tomorrow.)
Anyhow, this day was different because I took a moment to peel myself away from my desk and grab lunch. I ran to the pizza store across the street from my office. It was packed and some tall dude was blocking the counter and before I could let myself get annoyed that he was in my way, I arched my neck to glance at his face and to my surprise, I saw that it was my little brother. He’s friggin tall. But then, I was wearing flats so everyone seems tall.
We grabbed our lunch and found a bench in the middle of Broadway and sat to eat lunch together. I, of course, talked about The Muchness and all the things I want to do with it- how I want to partner with charities to sell more Muchness Bands to raise more money so i can bring something positive to the world and help people tap into their creativity to find their confidence and individuality and on and on… And we sat there talking. Me, an artist in neon floral tights sitting criss-cross applesauce with a million ideas and inspirations bouncing through my head, listening to him, with his good posture, in his suit and tie, with a million numbers and facts neatly organized in his, and I thought “this is pretty cool that he’s my little brother and he’s pretty darned smart and adulty.” Then I said that out loud and he reminded me he’s 30 years old. And suddenly I felt too old to be wearing neon floral tights.
But then, this lovely young lady rolled by:

And I remembered no one really cares about my tights when random folks like this are rolling around midtown manhattan.
….I think I need some fairy wings.
Ya think?

How Being Muchy (sorta) inspires others to be Muchy!

Today was a pretty craptastic day at work. Stick around and maybe I’ll blog about it. It was so stressful that I didn’t have an appetite and skipped lunch. Then I got drawn into a meeting which ran late and I had to call my sister to pick up the kids. By the time I left my office it was close to dinner time and I was starved.

So, I went into some overpriced chic deli-like place near Port Authority and bought something to eat. I was not feeling particularly Muchtastic. In fact, I was feeling rather pissed. And then, this woman caught my eye.

Her cheerfully yellow bag and flats really brightened my day! It wasn’t even a particularly nice weather day (as you can see by her coat) but she just looked spirited and fun and (little did she know) her Muchness impacted me and cheered me up a bit and I thought that was cool.

Another thing I noticed about her was that she had really nice eyebrows. Yeah. Eyebrows.

These are not cheerful yellow chics eyebrows... but they are similarly perfectly shaped and yet approachable and friendly.

I don’t know why but I’ve alway had a thing for nice eyebrows and yet, I admittedly neglect mine and convince myself that they are fine just the way they are. But that’s silly. “Fine” isn’t really good enough, especially since I generally don’t wear a stitch of makeup (we can discuss that another time) and nice eyebrows would go a long way towards making me look more polished.

So that’s my next plan to Muchify myself.

I’m gonna do my eyebrows.

And it’s gonna make me feel muchy.

All because a stranger wore a matching yellow bag and shoes. ‘Cuz I never woulda noticed her eyebrows if her bag and shoes were black. Or worse, tan.

See how that works?!? Muchness is unstoppable!

So…. Any eyebrow grooming tips?

Muchy music moment

I stepped out if my office just long enough to grab a slice of pizza to bring back to eat at my desk. As I walked out the building I heard this:

It was awesomely beautiful and unexpected. The muchiest part? On my way back to the office I saw a woman try to give him a dollar. He replied “oh, no thank you. I’m not playing for money. I’m just playin'”

Disco ball Muchness

There’s just something muchy about a disco ball that cannot be denied. Granted, you may not want them as a cornerstone of high concept design in your living room. (see how that might work here)

But adding a disco ball in an unexpected spot ain’t gonna do nothing except make you smile. I was reminded of this as I walked to the bus from my office and nearly got run over by the muchiest rickshaw in the city. By the time I caught my breath and grabbed my phone he was kinda far away. Lucky for you, disco balls have a tendency to stand out against the concrete gray that devours much of manhattan.

It made me smile. 😀

…and while looking online for a better picture if that disco balled bicycle taxi, I found this.

Could u just plotz?? Love!!!

Getting out with the hubster!

I’ve been so stressed and overworked trying to get the new site prelaunchable that I’ve really neglected some other important things-namely, my man. And tonight wasn’t gonna be much different but then Molly insisted we call her favorite babysitter Sarah (u know her–she took the challenge!!) and we thought “great idea kiddo!”
So we went out:

Candlelight, wine, adult conversation. (admittedly, much was about muchness- but not ALL— some was about our dream future…)
The wine helped me relax so we came home, cuddled up on the couch to kill brain cells in front of Celebrity Apprentice. But I passed out instead. But it’s ok. I was feeling muchy.

Discussing Babyloss with my boss

I went on a business trip last week with my boss. In all the years that I have worked at this job, I’ve never gone on a business trip. I just kept getting pregnant and/or having babies. But now that Liat is one year and I am not preoccupied with getting pregnant again, I was glad to go. Just one day away from the office responsibilities and the house responsibilities was a welcome change.

It also gave me the opportunity to chat a bit with my boss. Although I try not to discuss this blog at work, my co-workers know about it, as do my bosses. In fact, I would not be completely shocked if they sat around reading it. Mildly shocked, maybe. But completely? No.  Hell, I wonder if his ears are turning red as he reads. these. words. right. now.

The boss I traveled with has never talked to me about the twins. Never really acknowledged it to my face. That’s fine. When I first returned to work 3 weeks after they died, I actually asked a co-worker to ask everyone not to make a big deal of it. But now, two years later, in the airport, waiting for our return flight, after a very abstract segue into the topic,  he said to me “It seems like you carry a  lot of anger about that situation.”

Oh. Um, hello.

Ok. I guess we can have this conversation. And I guess you’re reading my blog.

“I do.” I replied

“Why? It’s not like it defines who you are. Why would you want to focus on that instead of focussing on your other two blessings? It’s been two years. Why don’t you want to just put it behind you as just ‘something that happened in the past’?”

“OK. first of all, in many ways, it does define me. It just does. I am not the same person that I was before this happened. Therefore, by definition, it has defined me. But second of all, I think we are defining anger differently. I am not ANGRY…. like ‘I’M SO MAD!’ kinda anger… I am angry that I was forced to live through that experience. But not like, bitter anger. It’s more like, like …..”

“…Sadness.” He said.

“Yes, sadness. And I’ll always be sad about it. 2 years or 20 years. That’s just the way it is.”

We dropped the topic.

Two hours later we got on the plane. I (so unusual for me) still had more to say.

“Ya know… back to that topic…. I don’t want to forget about it and just put it behind me. I actually like talking about them. They are my children. You would never say to someone who lost a parent ‘put it behind you…. why do you want to talk about that'”

“But you never held them. You never looked at their faces, or saw them smile.”

I was surprised he said that. I know a lot of women would be appalled to have someone say that directly to them. I wasn’t. I was sort of touched. It was so… honest. I really felt like he was trying to understand my head.

“You’re right. I didn’t. And that’s really sad. But it really has nothing to do with the love I have for them. I love them as much as I love my other two children. I just don’t get to raise them.”

And with that, I think I saw a glimmer of understanding come across his face. And then, I felt at peace with the conversation. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep before we landed at 6am.

Today was the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Memory Walk at our local hospital.  I taped an oversized Sunflower and Daisy to Liat’s stroller and walked there with her. Just the two of us.

(I wore three Muchness bands, a silver sequin jacket, and my IN TOUCH WITH THE MUCH t-shirt… those things are my versions of ‘liquid courage’…. What? Oh. Doesn’t everyone have hot pink Duct Tape in their house?)

At the walk, a speaker talked about the importance of speaking up about our losses. About how, until those who experience these losses let others know and help them understand what it REALLY is to lose a pregnancy, to lose a baby, it will always be an isolating, invisible sorrow that others don’t recognize and can’t comprehend.

I felt good that I shared my feeling and thoughts with my boss, and maybe brought him a new glimmer of understanding. And so I decided to take that conversation and share it here. Through The MUCHNESS, I plan to educate the world.