Last year I wrote about doing yoga with a baby.
It was quite the adventure, I tell you what.
But a lot can change in a year.
This morning I got up and felt so stiff. So, I decided to do a little yoga to see if that would help me loosen up.
I was quite pleased with the workout. Keith stood next to me and tried to do all the yoga poses. It was quite endearing.
By the end I was tired (it was the Biggest Loser Yoga... pretty tough, but awesome). I was very much looking forward to the cool down with the sitting, and the breathing, and the meditating. Bliss. Pure bliss. Or it should have been.
My cool down was not quite what I expected. It went something like this:
Sitting in Indian Style, with hands on knees, I was breathing deeply.
Deep breath. Eyes closed, and in my ears I hear a whimper. I looked over to see Keith pinching Faye's foot.
"Now let all the stress and tension leave your body."
"Keith! Leave your sister alone!"
"Breathe deeply, enjoying the relaxation of your body"
Baby fussing, but not yet crying
"Keith! I told you to leave your sister alone! Put her hands down, and take your hand off of her mouth. She doesn't need you to help her yawn."
"You have worked hard, and now it is your time to let your body ease into a deep meditation."
Full on crying.
"Uh-oh! Time for time out. So sad. Climb up onto that chair... Keith, let go of her hair.... in the chair now... Keith!"
At least I got the workout part without interruptions, right?
And in this, I find a metaphor for motherhood: Thought it is nearly always hard (the workout) there is a rhythm that can be reached. This rhythm can lull you into a false sense of security. As soon as you think you have it all figured out, the built in radar that children seem to have go off. They MUST throw a few kinks into the mix, just to see what you will do. It will never be a smooth ride and there is no time for rest.
As frustrating as it is, I just have to love it. Because really, who couldn't?