Random musings of a mother gone mad

Why Do You Believe?

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Have you ever questioned your beliefs?

Do you even know what they are?

I’m going to go out on a limb here and take a wild guess that, on your 25th birthday, no one told you that you’re on your own now, your brain is fully developed, and that you can now empty it of all the old software that was downloaded in the previous 25 years.

All the beliefs that you “inherited” from your parents, relatives, siblings, teachers, Tiger Beat, girlfriends, Harlequin romance novels, boyfriends, the Flintstones, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker …. are NOT your beliefs. You didn’t proactively choose them. You absorbed them into your psyche. Then you mixed them all together. And this is what you got:

And so I ask you: how is THAT belief working for you? 

Lin Eleoff, The Smart Ass Coach

Let me explain.

You are the boss of your beliefs. They work for you. Their job description is this:

Make the boss feel good. Period. 

Lin Eleoff, The Smart Ass Life Coach


Lin Eleoff, Smart Ass Life Coach

Change your beliefs, Lin Eleoff The Smart Ass Life Coach

My point exactly.

If you believe that Bison make all your dreams come true, that belief is working for you. It is fulfilling the job description that your beliefs must make you feel good. Nothing more is required. Don’t second guess the beliefs that truly make you feel good. Because when you feel good, you do good.

Any belief that doesn’t make you feel good has got to go!

Make sense?

change your beliefs, Lin Eleoff, Smart Ass Self Help with a side of Sarcasm

Justin Timberlake You're Fired

You tell him, mama! 

Have you fired any of your beliefs lately? Tell me which ones, in the comments below!

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did someone just say the d-word?

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I’m going all Sarah Palin again people.

As in: ROGUE.

So put your helmets on. Brace yourselves. Grab onto a tree.

Because I’m going on a d-d-d-d-d-d-d-diet.

The Smart Ass Diet

Jeesh, when did “diet” become such a monster of a four-letter word? You’d think it was the f-word.

going on a diet

this is what a diet looks like when left unchecked

No one wants to even say the d-word anymore.

Real women don’t say the word diet. 

Real women don’t go on a diet. 

Diet has the word ‘die’ in it. That can’t be good.

If you go on a diet you’ll never have cake ever again!!

Okay, okay, let’s all calm down, little ones. It’s just a word. There there now.

Oh… I have an idea. How about we re-define the word DIET. For those of you who get all sweaty and clammy at the mere mention of the d-word and the images of deprivation and starvation it conjures up, I have a (diet) pill for that.

Here, take this: 

Life Coach Pill

take this pill with 42 glasses of water

Feeling better?  Good, because here is the NEW AND IMPROVED Smart Ass definition of the word DIET:

-Clean eating, i.e. food you love to feed your body, not some #$&@ from someone named Jenny who doesn’t even exist. (Sorry if you’re a Jenny fan… but you know you can’t last on that goop forever.)

-Eating when your body signals you are actually, physically hungry. Note: sadness, frustration, anger, and PMS symptoms do not qualify as hunger. 

-Stopping when you are comfortably satisfied. This feels good. This comes between “I’m still kinda hungry” and “oh no, I feel like I just ate the south of France.”

-No deprivation.  No shit. 

In other words: the way a honey badger eats, minus the green snakes.

Smart Ass Honey Badger

Did you know the honey badger is the Smart Ass of the animal kingdom? That’s because:

a)  She knows what she wants;

b)  She always makes sure she gets what she wants;

c)  Getting what she wants always makes her feel good;

d)  She doesn’t give a shit what any other animals think, because it’s all about her. Always.

I’m pretty sure I was a honey badger in my previous life.

In my present life, as a honey badger disguised as a human, I like to ask myself these questions:

1. What do I (really) want? (This cannot be what someone else wants for me. Like my mother.)

2. Why do I want it? (The answer must give me a positive feeling.)

3. What exactly do I have to do to get what I want? (Because a goal without a plan is a dream, my precious poppet.)

4. How will this serve my big picture goal? (This ensures I am aligned with my even bigger purpose of saving the world!)

5. Can I do this and remain blissfully unaware of what other people are thinking and saying, or how they are behaving towards me? Because that is the hallmark of a true honey b.


Unawareness is underrated.

So, here’s how I came to re-invent the word “diet” for myself.

I answered the 5 key questions:

1. What do I want?  I want to be the fittest and healthiest I can be today. Not how I was ten years ago, but for how my body is today.

2. Why do I want it? Because I want to honor my body since it does so much for me. To wit: it takes me to Starbucks; it gave me four babies; it kicks people in the shins when I want it to; it helps me type on my ‘puter so I can write things like this crazy-ass blog post, etc. and so on and so forth.

3. What exactly do I have to do to get it? I have to think like a honey badger, i.e., I have to want to want what I say I want. I have to want it so badly there is no stopping me from getting it. I have to be so inspired to do the things that will get me what I want that even hell + high water will not be able to stop me.

The Smart Ass Diet

I cannot be stopped

4. How will this serve my big picture goal?  My big picture goal really is to save the world. I shit you not. In order to save the world in the most efficient manner, it would behoove me to be in the best physical and mental shape I can be. I’m cool with that. (Try to use the word “behoove” today… it makes you sound brilliant!)

5. Can I do this and remain blissfully unaware of what other people are thinking?  You know, I  truly do love the muggles, but I care not what they think.

There you have it.

Diet. There’s an ‘i’ in diet. And as we all know by now, it’s all about i.

Hey… do you want to do this with me?

You can, if you want to.

Actually… only if you really really want to.

YES?  click here.

NO?  don’t click here. 

PS: It really would behoove you to clickety click one of those.  

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it’s 3:28 a.m. and I’m contemplating murder.

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This is how I woke up this morning.

awake at night

It’s how I wake up most mornings these days.

The problem is, it’s 3:28 a.m.

And I’m awake.

Every morning.

At 3:28.

I wake up.

Technically it’s morning.

But I’m not interested in technicalities.

I just want to sleep.

Like Thurston Howell the Freakin’ Fourth. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.  Every night.

What is WRONG with him?

I want him to wake up and talk to me.

I want to wake him up so he can experience mind-numbing boredom the depths of which are immeasurable and intolerable and indefatigable.  If I can’t sleep I don’t think Thursty should either.

It’s now 3:29 a.m.

Lin Eleoff is The Worst Mother

I kill you!

I seriously want to kill him!

The problem is that I have sooooooo much stuff in my head these days.

I think I need a bigger head.

Lin Eleoff is The Worst Mother and a Smart Ass

ruh roh


The real problem is that I just made that up (the part about all the stuff in my head) and called it a problem. Because during normal human waking hours, it’s not a problem at all.

But from the perspective of a wild-eyed crazy woman whose husband is out partying with The Sandman, this blows.  No matter how you look at the facts here, this sucks. And blows.

So, let’s look at (just) the facts ma’am:

1) It’s now 3:30 a.m.

2) Birds are still sleeping

3) My children are sleeping

4) The hairy ManBear beside me is busy sleeping.

5) Everyone else in the United States of America and Canada and even Ashtabula, Ohio, is pretty much sleeping.

6) I am not sleeping.

7) I am the complete opposite of sleeping.

8) Vogue magazine is expecting me to do a cover shoot today during normal business hours.

9) Whatshisface has just blurted out, “What’s for dinner?” What the…

10) It’s 3:31. Ay. Em. In the morning/middle of the night.

“O Sleep, O Gentle Sleep, Natures Soft Nurse, How Have I Frightened Thee, That Thou No More Wilt Weigh my Eye-Lids Down And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness?”

Or, to paraphrase Shakespeare:

“Yo! Sleep!. Why’d You Gotsta be Such a Pain in the Ass?  Weigh Down My Eye-lids for Cryin’  Out Loud!”

And so I wait.

And you know I finally nod off just when it’s time for everyone else to wake up.

The people at Vogue are not going to be happy when they see me today.

But hey, it’s nothin’ a little concealer and a dab of lip gloss can’t fix though, right?

Lin Eleoff is The Worst Mother and a Smart Ass

Bring it Annie!

Along with any suggestions for curing intermittent insomnia.


please share this on Facebook and Twitter and Your Mom so I can continue my quest for world peace and the perfect white t-shirt

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For Dana

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(This re-post is dedicated, with love, to my dear friend Dana, who is asking The Universe a whole lot of questions right now.)

I have been having an affair for some time now.

With The Universe.

Don’t worry, my husband, Thurston Howell the Fourth, knows all about it. In fact, he’s totally fine with it.  He understands and accepts that there’s no fighting a love like this!

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband a lot. He’s the absolute best man for me on the whole planet. There’s just one thing.

He’s only human.

Still, my Thursty brought sexy back long before Justin Timberlake. And you can surely see why, right?  Is he not absolutely adorable? Incidentally, that scar on his cheek is from the time he saved me from a giant 420-pound coconut crab (a.k.a. Birgus latro), the largest anthropod in the world.  (Actually, Thurston doesn’t smoke, but I think the cigarette makes him look exactly like the Marlboro ManSmokin’ hot, don’t you think?)

Did I just digress or what? It happens every time I talk about my little Scarface. So, let’s get back to my love affair with the Universe, shall we?

‘Cause that thing is B-I-G!

Don’t laugh but I once wrote the Universe a love letter. I’ll share it with you.

It’s kinda embarrassing but, who cares?

And guess what?  The Universe wrote me back! By email. I am not sh!ttin’ you. This is the email:

A Note from the Universe
TUT/The Universe
Reply |The Universe to theworstmother
show details Oct 5

TWM, I can’t even remember the last time I was this excited for you over all that you’re on the verge of doing, being, and having.
Just sayin’ –
The Universe

ps: actually, there was that one time, just before this very life began….!

The look on my face was complete and utter WTF?

Even the sun was impressed.

I was so excited. I was on the verge of something. Something big. And the Universe has known about this all along?

Even before I got here?

doo doo doo doo, doo doo doo doo

That’s some crazy sh!t, Batman.

And then I had this ultra cool thought:

The Universe Has My Back

Yup, the Universe has my back every second of every minute of every day. In fact, I came to realize that I didn’t have to know EVERYTHING (what a relief!).

And–I came to trust that the Universe always always knows what it is doing. Even when things don’t make sense. After all, something that big must know what it’s doing, right?

So now, when I have a problem I can’t figure out, I just hand it over to the Universe to take care of. It’s like having a virtual assistant.

No matter how many problems I present it with, the Universe listens patiently, without judgment, while holding a great big space (pun intended) for me to dump the contents of my endless mind poop.

And The Universe just keeps on listening. Now that’s what I call having excellent listening skills.

And then, after I get everything off my chest, I just wait around. But in a good way. I do stuff to take care of me.

And I let The Big U do the heavy lifting for me.

And without fail the Universe sends me The Answer.

Sometimes when I least expect it.

Just like that, The Answer pops into my head. When I’m not thinking.

It’s not always the answer I would have predicted, or expected. Sometimes it’s downright bizarre. Other times I don’t like the answer.

One time, the answer was simply “Yes“.  That’s it. So, I said, “yes”.  And it worked! (I always know it’s the right answer because it just feels right).

And that is why I am in mad love with the Universe.

It always knows what’s best for me.

Even when– especially when —I don’t.

Hey, if you want to get notes from the Universe, go here.

Have fun.

And remember, the Universe is all mine.

But we can share.

**Note back to Universe: Thanks for sending Thurston to me. He is the love of my life.

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we were girls first

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I am such a girl.

Seriously, I love being a girl.

When/why/how did it become a rule that you could call women many things, but never girls?

Yes, I am a woman, but I have no time for such technicalities.

I used to. Believe me, I was one of the ones who thought being called a girl was a no-no.

If you want to play with the big boys, you’ve got to start acting like one.


I saw the spoon. I let it feed me.

Being spoon-fed your thoughts is helpful when you’re young and finding your way.


But sooner or later it behooves us girls to start questioning those thoughts.

Some of those thoughts are so damn painful. And mean.

We’ve got to stand up and say…

I wanna cry when I wanna cry because I just plain wanna. Please don’t tell me not to cry.

I wanna wear girlie things ALL THE TIME. Even when I’m kicking somebody’s ass. (My kicks are so girlie though. The heels help.)

I want to feel my emotions. It’s what girls do.

I want to ride a girls’ bike.

I want to play house, still. I love playing house in my house.

My children recently bought me my favorite childhood doll from e-bay. I bawled my eyes out.

Just. Like. A. Girl.

It was so amazing. Thumbelina now sits in my office with me. I will never hide her from anyone.

And, by the way, I don’t go around telling the wonderful boys in my life that they should cry and emote and run like a girl.

Because they’re not girls.

But my star athlete daughter, who runs and plays like an athlete, is told she runs and plays like a boy.

Wait. What?

Oh dear. My emotions are getting to me.

Good Lord, could it be The Vapors?

I just want to be who I am.

I am a girl.

I’m soft and tender-hearted and ca-razy and strong and mighty and tough as nails.

And still, I am not a cook.

We were girls first, girlies.

Pass it on.


The Fine Print

You’ve checked out my websiteinprogress and you’re wondering when it’s going to be finished.

I know, it’s still a little rough around the edges. I’m working on it! But that shouldn’t stop you from getting on The Shit List. All the cool, WORST people are.

In addition to my regular coaching practice, I am offering mentoring programs for coaches. This week I’ll be wrapping up teaching coach cadets at The Life Coach School alongside coach extraordinaire, Brooke Castillo, who’s always breaking bad. Whether you’re just starting out and need some support in building your coaching skills, or you need some help in getting your website/blog established, I can help you find your voice. I know where they hide the voices. For more info visit me HERE where you can contact me directly.

BTW: I realize I used the word “behooves” in this post. That’s just so somethin’ somethin’, isn’t it?

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

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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.


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.

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