This House of Love


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Balloon Animal BFFs

Our Florida trip is in t-minus three weeks and the nerves have already set in. This will be our first time flying with the kids, and Charlotte has been saying “I’m scared of heights” on repeat. I’ve tried to sweeten the deal time and time again: “But we’ll be landing and going to DisneyWorld!” “You won’t even notice you’re in the air!” or “C’mon, you’ll be able to watch movies the WHOLE time.” I’ve even offered her cool flight swag (a captain’s hat, an iPad, etc) to assuage her fears. Nothing has worked.

Until, that is, we watched Home and Family on Hallmark Channel – our new mother and daughter ritual – and saw Orly Shani‘s super fun balloon animal pillow project. She made the cutest snowmen, unicorn, and puppy dog! Charlotte’s eyes lit up and she shouted, “That’s it, Mommy! That’ll be my nap time pillow for the plane. I can cuddle it if I get scared! Can we make twoooo?” How could I refuse a family craft time that’s simple and super cheap?!

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To watch the full video from Home & Family click the link here, or keep reading for step-by-step instructions!

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Photo courtesy of littleinspiration.com

All you’ll need to make these super duper cuties is*:

– A pair of opaque tights or stockings

Pillow stuffing (as white and fluffy as possible!)

– *Optional supplies: needle and thread matching the tights you choose, as well as extra decoration if desired (see the video above or extra project ideas below for inspo on how to use them)!

        Directions:

       Simply slit the tights in two at the crotch (see video above).   Then start stuffing! When you want to create a bend in the material, simply tie a knot. Or, to maximize neatness and eliminate floppiness, you can even sew a tight twist in place with thread that matches the hue of tights you’ve chosen to work with. Then continue stuffing! For easier manipulation, you may follow the instructions for creating a “dog” below. I’m always  confused watching the balloon artists anyway!

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Simple step-by-step instructions to folding a dog balloon to model your pillow

Do not stuff the pillow until you manipulate each step of folding. If you fold after stuffing, you may not have enough room to manipulate the tights into the shape you prefer.

After creating your base animal, it’s time to get creative! To add the extra details, simply purchase things like these awesome unicorn horns or “hair” tassels!

I can’t wait to post photos of how our own pillow pets turn out – make sure you’re following my Instagram to see! Also, follow my blog for more DIY inspo and family fun!


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Why I Blog

When I first entered the blogging world, my goal was to simply create an online diary. I had felt so isolated during those first few months of motherhood; the majority of my days were spent with no social interaction beyond my infant daughter and a few groups on Facebook. But I had so much to share, so many feelings and thoughts about this new, amazing, terrifying adventure. So I started a blog. I had no plan for it. I just wanted a place to vent.

As time went on and I wrote more, my emotional load became much lighter. I realized that when I share my feelings, the thoughts that normally just circulate endlessly through my head are given a different place to be: online. Which is scary. Scary as shit, if you ask me. Putting your unabashed thoughts and feelings into the hands, hearts, and minds of others is terrifying. But, the beauty (and danger) of making your feelings public is the ability to receive feedback. And I will admit not everyone always understands what I do.

But then there are those people who reach out to me to say that knowing my struggle is helping them with their own. That knowing that they’re not alone changes everything. And that’s why I blog. To share my stories (whether serious or light-hearted, silly or sad) and hope they help someone. To read other people’s stories and know that I have a community. To learn and share, to love and understand.  To be inspired…

So, with that said I’m taking my thirst for inspiration to the road (well, just a couple freeways actually) and am joining a slew of other wonderful BlogHers at #BlogHer16 ! I’ll be sharing the process on my Instagram (@house_of_love24), Twitter (@chesler_amy), and Snapchat (@thishouseoflove – wtf?! sooo many apps to keep up with!). In fact, you can even find me on the BlogHer16 app. I want to be inspired by all of you and look forward to the fun and knowledge I will leave with! Join me, won’t you?


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Worry Wart No More

Although I have several faithful people to rely on, I still prefer to do things on my own. I’ve always been this way, even if I am anxious and worrisome as a result. My mother was a strong, independent woman and I always admired her for these reasons. I try to exemplify these positive attributes of hers even if it stresses me out, and it earned me the nickname of “worry wart.” Thus, I am the woman who left the hospital two days after my c-section. I am also the one who decided it was a good idea to take my toddler and newborn to brunch just three weeks into being a parent of two. As I packed them to go the words of my girlfriend who had become a mommy twice over not long before ran thru my head incessantly, “I didn’t take them out by myself for at least a couple months.” Was it really that bad? I would soon find out; the three minute drive was over and I couldn’t turn back.  As we piled out of the car, I started to sweat.

We walked thru the parking lot and into the quaint little cafe that we frequent quite often without being hit. I call that a success. Our venture continued with us being seated. My luck continues!… And then shit hit the fan. Moments in, and by moments I mean a mere five to seven seconds into our peaceful brunch date, I poked my toddler in the eye. Doesn’t sound so bad, because let’s be real, we’ve all done it. But it actually kinda was. The poke was deep enough to lodge one of her incredibly long eyelashes into her eyeball. The little sucker slid under her lid and it took a good five minutes of crying to dislodge it. But the damage was done. She was in a pissy, whiny mood. You know the, I don’t give a shit about life because I haven’t eaten yet today, Kinda mood? But like, ten times worse because it’s not your husband – it’s your toddler. Thankfully, my only stroke of genius that day was to allow my daughter to bring with her to the restaurant only what she could carry in her tiny, little arms. So she brought a huge puzzle. Was it a logical choice? No. But she’s two. And it ended up being awesome because the very moment I pulled it out, her incessant whining ceased. However, it was then that my three week old started crying.
Enthralled in her puzzle, I was bought some time. She would be occupied for at least ten minutes. Would the food come before that? Would Adam stir in his car seat again once I rocked him back to sleep? Would I have to eat my breakfast over his head while breastfeeding, hoping not to drop runny eggs on him? Why the hell do I always order runny eggs? All of these questions flashed through my mind. As I attempted to quiet my newborn and do a Paw Patrol puzzle with my daughter, I couldn’t help but day dream of being somewhere far, far away. I closed my eyes and imagined mySelf on  a remote island, laying on a chaise lounge, sucking down an incredibly tasty but strong pina colada, listening to Bob Marley. When I gathered the courage to open my eyes again and take it all in, I couldn’t help but laugh. The scene before me was actually quite comical. My first time around I would have worried about having the cranky baby at the brunch table, but this second time at the rodeo is drastically different. I sat back with a silly grin and acted as audience member to my own sideshow. With a diff lens it was actually pretty hilarious, the disheveled woman tending to the the puzzle-doing, eye-rubbing toddler and the hysterical infant. Let me tell you, it felt a whole lot better to laugh than stress about it all.
In the end, I had to nurse my son before the food came. He was still nursing when it got there. And he was not done nursing when I wiped the runny egg off of his onesie. After my daughter got some food in her system she was no longer scary mean either. So, despite having a rough start, all’s well that ends well, I guess. That’s the key to keeping your sanity as a parent, right? Just know that Shit will hit the fan. Pretty often, most likely. But, as Bob Marley said, “everything’s gonna be alright.”


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This House of Love

Let me [re]introduce myself. I’m Amy Beth Chesler, or A.B. Chesler as the literary world may (or may not) know me. I am a lover of food, laughter, and adventure, although I hate to get dirty. I chose to title my blog “This House of Love” because Amy Beth can be translated, loosely and in a couple different languages, into that phrase. My mom assembled this name for me, with the help of my then three year old brother, because she wished for me a future occupied by a warm and loving family life.

I am a victim of domestic violence. I am also a survivor of it. My mother, however, is not. She was an incredibly strong, determined, warm, caring woman. I will love and miss her with every fiber of my being every day until I die. Thankfully, things are infinitely better now as I fulfill my own role as a wife and mother. I’ve found my niche in life; I was born to be Mommy. I knew this from the beginning.

What I didn’t know is how much poop and snot I’d have to deal with on a regular basis. Similarly, no one told me that some days I would laugh so hard I would cry, and others I would feel swallowed whole by my loneliness. Everyone neglected to tell me how terrifying, thrilling, isolating, eye-opening, and powerful parenthood is. They also didn’t mention just how awesome (in the truest sense of the word) it is to have your heart, a true piece of you, walking around outside of your body, living their very own life. How dare they.

I am also a writer, although it’s scary to say so. It’s a profession that requires you to make something from nothing, a grand story or thought-provoking poem, from just the depths of your mind. If your tales aren’t well received, your writing is not the only entity receiving rejection. But, just like my sentiments about motherhood, I knew I was meant for the writing world. As a child, reading was my escape from the harsh realities that were my life.  I wrote my own stories to enter an alternate universe, one filled with much less pain and isolation. As an adult, writing is allowing me to process my past and consequently and eventually arrive at my life’s destination: a house filled with an infinite amount of love.

Feel free to join me on this crazy journey by following my blog via the link to the left. And remember, “Let love win.”


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“House of Love”

At birth I was given the name Amy Beth. My mother would tell me from there on out that it translated to “House of Love.” It’s true; loosely translated, and in two different languages, it means something like that. But what I honestly think is most important about my name is its intended meaning.

My mother grew up in a household that was filled with anything but warmth and love. I know my grandparents, passionate Israelis who had made their way to The Valley in hopes of a better life, fought quite a bit. Mom grew used to tumult, so when she met my Dad his alcoholic and lothario tendencies were not as much of a deterrent as they should have been. And, by the time I was born, my parents were divorced. I was born into a broken home rather than a House of Love.

The small, dysfunctional family I grew up in bred mistrust. When it disbanded in 2007, I was left with a choice. Do I continue down the path of isolation because I don’t trust people, or do I make decisions that allow me to learn to trust and unconditionally love others (as well as myself)? At this exact time I can clearly remember hating my name. It seemed to mock me. I was bitter for that and so much more.

But as time went on, and I learned what true love was, I realized that by dubbing me “House of Love,” Mom shared with me the one wish she had always held so dearly in her heart: that I be given a home filled with unconditional love. And by something like the self-fulfilling prophecy (and making the choice to be happy), I have realized that my biggest goal in life is to break the chain of tumult and mistrust. I deserve better, and so does my family. I will wear my name proudly as a badge of courage to break the chain of abuse.


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“Fearless” Celebrities

I recently came across a post that caught my eye. You know those ones that circulate like wildfire, garnering thousands of hits in one day? It was entitled “Thirty Gorgeous Celebs Who Fearlessly Pose Makeup-Free.” You may have seen it, you may have not; that’s not the point. The point is, there is nothing fearless about posing without makeup.

Fearless is confronting illness head on and battling relentlessly. Fearless is having a career that benefits the greater good even though it may put your own life in danger. Fearless is standing up against the odds and coming out on top.

It is NOT being photographed without make-up on. And if this is what society deems as “fearless,” then we have our priorities severely out of whack. We should not be teaching young girls that bravery equates to a makeup-free selfie. We should be impressing upon them that bravery is working hard to reach their goals, no matter what may stand in their way. Like a shallow, self-indulgent society.

End rant.