Mama Yoga

Before I became a mom, I practiced yoga about 5 times a week.  I started around the time I met my husband, and over time I fell in love with the practice, and the exercise.  I have gone through long stints with different exercises, like running and rollerblading, but once I found yoga I knew I was in it for life. I never had to "make" myself do yoga--I looked forward to it, and craved it.  It has everything: vigorous physical activity, stretching, muscle development, balancing.  It is gentle but demanding.  And it is a meditation, challenging me to focus on breath and movement, showing me how my mind wanders, interferes, or helps.  It teaches me spiritual lessons, and gives me a space to pray, in my way.  Yoga brings me peace.

After Boodge, I managed to keep my practice up, though not as frequently or for as long at a time.  But then got pregnant with Peanut, and we were moving, and I was tired, I let it drop from my life.  Since then I have only practiced a handful of times until a few weeks ago, when I asked Sean to start giving me some yoga time on the weekends.  He heartily agreed, as he usually does to anything I think will make me more cheerful and actually ask for.  It's the asking I forget to do.

So one afternoon when Peanut was napping, I rolled out my mat.  Within a few movements, I heard my mind ask, "Oh, my body, where have you been?"  I was surprised by the thought, but then, I wasn't.  My body has been engaged on a momentous project in the last few years.  Creating and growing and birthing children. Feeding them from my breast, comforting them with my arms and carrying them with my legs and back.  Doing all the movement involved in keeping them safe, fed, clothed, played with, and loved.  My body has carried me through all of that, not without some protest, but mostly with great strength.  And now me and my body had come back together, though yoga, in service of each other for a short while.

I realized I had to keep yoga in my life, but I had to let go of how I used to practice.  I can't wait for time alone, with my favorite tunes in the background, for an hour or more.  That may happen sometimes, but I want yoga to happen more often than that.  So I practice like a mom of two small children.  With Bob the Builder and the monitor hum in the background, and for 10 minutes. With interruptions.  I practice when I can grab some time, like yesterday when, after I put the baby down, I asked Boodge if he wanted to play and he said, "I just want some quiet." (AKA, leave me alone to finish watching the video you put on while you put the baby down).  So I rolled out my mat, thank you Bob. 

But then of course, the yoga drew Boodge's attention.  He wanted to do it too.  I was happy to teach him yoga, and he made some cute attempts at the "moves". After a while he started making up his own "moves" and I would name them, "Child looking at bumhole pose" or "Jump spinasana".  We were having a great time.

Cobra pose--censored

Hamperheadasana

 After a while, though, I kind of wanted to get back to yoga, for real, and Sean told Boodge to come outside with him.  "No, I just want to keep doing yoga." he said.  And I want to teach him yoga, so I was torn.  I told him 5 more minutes. He agreed, but then cried anyway at the end of 5 minutes.  He wanted to be with me, having fun, and I felt sad for him.  I felt guilty, too. We were having a great time, why did I have to put an end to it? But I also know that taking care of myself is necessary, and something I want to show him I do, and want him to have respect for.  And I wanted my yoga.  So, off he went, crying, to play outside. 

And I relaxed, quietly, with my body.  I breathed and I let go of the guilt.  I felt how deeply I love my family and I prayed for them to be safe and healthy.  I expressed thanks for all the blessings I have been given, all the good love and kindness I receive. I prayed for strength to stay positive and grateful and generous, and to be the parent and wife and person I want to be.


That is my practice as a Mama.  I practice with the support and willingness of my whole family.  I make compromises.  I have fun. I let the negative go as quickly as I can, and stay grateful for the moment. I accept the limitations of myself and others.  I balance my needs with everyone else's. 

It is messy and chaotic.  But maybe even more sacred, and certainly more necessary. 

An Ode to the Boodge, a Terrific Two

I know that the age of two is supposed to be terrible.  I know I've complained about the whining and the contrariness coming out of my little dude.  Sure, he pushes the boundaries sometimes, but when I do the right parenting thing and get down to his level and speak to his face, or gently physically remove him from what he is doing (instead of shouting orders from across the room), he is pretty cooperative.  Maybe it's because he's pretty good with language and that helps cut down on his frustration, but we haven't seen a full-on tantrum since before he turned two. 

I was just talking to a mother at a drop-in yesterday who said her son also was pretty agreeable until he got to about two and a half, and then he switched.  Her son is now over 3, and when I told her I feared three more than two she said, "Yes, be afraid."  One of my fears is that Peanut's arrival will be the catalyst to Boodge turning into more of a terrible than a terrific.  I hate to think that the arrival of a new baby, which will already cause a big shift in our relationship, could coincide with what my mommy-mentor has told me is a sort of "falling out of love" that can happen when your child gets over the age of two.  I am so in love with my little dude, it breaks my heart a little to think that our relationship may become more confrontational.

For right now, I'm doing my best to enjoy him and love him up as much as I can.  And knowing Peanut is on the way and will detract from my appreciation of him, I just want to take a moment to celebrate all that is great about Boodge.  For instance, he comes out with some one-liners that have Sean and I in stitches, pretty much every day.  The other day when Sean was singing "Welcome to the Jungle" at the table, and when he paused Boodge piped in his own lyrics "And welcome to all the babies that are coming to the jungle!" (That's you, Peanut).  Or my current favorite, when he found his testicles and declared, "There's a ball in there, Mummy! There's a little ball in there!"

And sometimes, he's downright amazing, like the other morning when I announced that I was going to vacuum the living room and he said, "I'm gonna clean up my toys!" and ran ahead of me to clean all his little toys off the floor so I could vacuum. Or when Sean was angry at him for switching off the PVR in the middle of the football game it was taping, and he said so sweetly and quietly, "I didn't mean to hurt you, Daddy." Or when he holds my head in his hands and kisses me, over and over and over, or kisses my tummy and pats it and says "I'm patting Peanut gent-awy." (gently) It's moments like this when he surprises us and melts our hearts with how tuned in and caring he can be.

But the best part is his singing. He loves music, and he is starting to know a lot of songs as well as make up his own little babbling songs as he goes about his business. I guess part of why I love this is because Sean and I are the same way, always singing around the house and making up little jingles. But also, his exuberance when he sings cannot be beat, and it never fails to lift my spirits. I wish I could share some video of it, but I'm having a hard time getting a good video in which he also has on pants.  Once you find a ball attached to your body, it's hard not to want access to it 24/7.

I know having two kids will be twice the blessing and twice the cuteness, and that my love will expand, rather than diminish for one to be there for the other.  But my ability to give attention to Boodge, and to hug and cuddle him and indulge him and be patient with him, will change.  And he will struggle with sharing me, and the baby will change his routines and probably even disrupt his sleep sometimes, and all of this will create behaviors and feelings that are hard for both of us to deal with.  With the big number "38" gracing this week on my calendar (that's weeks pregnant, y'all), part of my inner work is to come to terms with the grieving of my exclusive love affair with my little man.  The hardest part of it, in some ways, is knowing that I can't prepare him for it.  I just pray that I can be there in the way that he needs me to be, to make him feel secure and happy in the change. 

It has been such an incredible gift,  these 2 years and 5 months with you, little Boodge.  You are such a special little boy, and you fill me with love and gratitude and joy.  I know by the time you read this, none of these sad feelings I'm having now will matter all that much.  We'll have adapted and we'll be just fine.  And sometimes, I wonder if I underestimate you, and you will actually adjust better than I imagine.  Just now, I woke you up from your nap and you cuddled into my belly and said, "Hi, Peanut." and then "Mommy, get that Peanut out of your tummy."  Maybe you're ready to share me, even more than I'm ready to share you. I hope so.  We can only trust, and let go, and keep on loving.  With you, the last part is so easy. 

The Long and Winding Road

This week was our third wedding anniversary. We're waiting till the weekend to celebrate, because it just happened that two good friends that I haven't seen in a couple of years were coming into town, one day only, on that day. And Sean's software is releasing soon so he's working long hours. We're usually pretty low-maintenance about "big days" anyway, but I did miss celebrating with my hubby. Not that we had a babysitter anyway. Not that we will have one on the weekend, either. Sigh...



I've been thinking about my good fortune in a mate ever since my last midwife appointment when she told me about a few of her other clients. One, she said, who had not wanted to circumcise her newborn son, but whose husband had pressured her so much to do so that she had relented. Then there was another woman whose husband was telling her she was spoiling their 6-week old baby by nursing him so often and responding quickly to his cries.

My heart went out to those women, remembering how incredibly confusing those first few months of parenting can be and all the well-meaning advice and pressure that is thrown your way. I can't imagine how much it would add to the stress to feel at odds with your number one partner in the job. And especially over such important issues, that conflict with a mother's instincts about what is best for her child. I felt very lucky, leaving my midwife's office that day, to have not yet had to experience this type of conflict with my husband.

Not to say we haven't had conflict, and lots of it, since becoming parents. We argue mostly over time and who spends more, and sleep and who gets more, and work and who does more. But when it comes to how to raise Boodge, Sean has been really supportive and open-minded. My preferences as a mother sometimes are a bit out of the mainstream--co-sleeping, long-term nursing, continuing night-time parenting, not wanting to put him in daycare. All of those choices demand something of Sean too. He has to pressure of being the provider for all of us, and he wakes up nights to care for Boodge. I suspect that if I had decided to go a different way--weaning, sleep training, going back to work--he would have supported that just as much.

It's not that he doesn't care about Boodge and how he's raised. But he respects my role as the primary caregiver, and my judgment as a mother and person. He raises concerns and questions at times, but overall, he trusts me, and us, to do what's right for our family. It makes a huge difference to be able to parent in that type of security. It's the kind of difference that can easily be taken for granted, so I wanted to take a moment to appreciate it.

I remember, as a teenager who knows everything trying to make sense of my parent's divorce, hearing that some of what contributed to the break-down had been differences in parenting style. "Well," I thought huffily, "they should have talked about all that before they got married." Now I realize that when you marry someone, you have no idea how becoming a parent will change each of you and your relationship. The woman who didn't want to circumcise, for example, had been OK with it before her child was born. But once she held him, she didn't want to do it. No matter how much you may talk about what you are going to do when you have kids, when they arrive the game changes. And so it really is good fortune if you find, once all the dust settles, that you and your partner are mostly on the same page.

Here's us just moments after Boodge was born:


One of the vows we made on our wedding day was to give each other the freedom to be who we are, and to discover who we are to become. I am so grateful that Sean has kept that vow as we have become parents, and allowed me to discover myself as a mother without pressuring me to go against my instincts.

Now, the great irony here is that I started writing this post on Sunday, and on Tuesday, we had what I would call our first real fight over parenting differences. I almost deleted this whole post. Mostly, it was a fight born of two exhausted parents sitting with an exhausted, screaming toddler at the table. But Boodge's "coming of age" from a baby to a kid starting to need boundaries and discipline seems like it may also bring a new dynamic in our co-parenting relationship. When I told my mommy-mentor about it, (I know, you're probably thinking she should start a blog) she shared that she also argued with her husband a lot during this time in the life of their first child when they were "figuring out how to do it."

I guess the first couple of years it is easy to defer to Mommy (or the primary caregiver), but as you begin to parent "for real", there is a lot more room for difference. We are different people, after all, and have different relationships with our child. And our strengths are different too. Sean is good at being direct and firm and no-bullshit. I am good at nurturing, empathizing, intuiting, giving.

But I'm not good with criticism. Not at all. And parenting is probably my absolute most sensitive topic. No parent wants to hear that they may be doing the wrong thing with their kid. So it wasn't easy to hear what he had to say the other day, though once we got to talk about it calmly, I saw that he had some valid points. I can see that if we can both try not to be too defensive and hear each other's feedback, we can probably help each other be better parents. As Boodge gets older, I think instincts may not be as reliable a guide, and Sean's opinion will be helpful. I hope I can let myself hear it.

With Peanut on the way, I'm pretty sure we are about to have our world rocked again, and more exhaustion and reasons to argue about time and sleep, and work, and now discipline too. But one thing I really want to do for my kids is have a long, happy marriage with their father. I want to sit beside Sean at Boodge and Peanut's graduations, or weddings, or births of their children, and hold his hand and feel the pride in what we have built together, knowing how difficult it sometimes was. I know if we can make it there, what will stand out are the good times, the times we overcame adversity, the laughter, the growth. And the good fortune we had to find and to hang on to someone who wanted to walk this crazy road of life and raising kids beside us. Here's wishing all you co-parents the strength to get down that road with your families too.

Past the tipping point, getting twitchy.....

We’ve just returned from a whirlwind tour of Southern Ontario, visiting family and, yes, house hunting. I never thought I would consider moving back to Ontario until my husband brought it up about 6 weeks ago. BC has become my home since I landed here almost 10 years ago determined to put down some roots and mend the wounds of my life’s journey to that point. And this province and the people I’ve met here have done that, and beyond. I have a community of friends and family here that feels good, and the place fits me in so many ways. My husband has always lived here and has close friendships dating back 20 years and his entire family nearby. It would be painful to leave, we would miss so much—and staying would be fine if that’s what ends up happening.

Bur for Sean and I it’s the first time we’ve been ready to seriously entertain the idea of buying a place, and we’re looking at all options in the quest for where to settle ourselves next. Living in the Vancouver real estate market can be discouraging—if you didn’t get in 10 years ago at prices that already seemed inflated, you are pretty limited in your options. It seems for the 6 years we’ve been together we have idly looked at real estate listings and daydreamed about a place that seemed far out of reach. Now that we have our little mini-man it all seems even more important to have a spot we can grow in and call our own (and the bank’s). We’ve waited, biding our time in an apartment and saving our money in the hopes that the market will turn.

I’m not complaining—I feel I am already fortunate and blessed beyond what many experience. Still…every time I load up the Boodge in his stroller with his portable toys and snacks and take him to the park I think about how it would be if he could run in his own yard. I think about planting a garden with him, showing him how to cook the food and enjoying it together. Right now I am thinking about how I could sunbathe or do yoga in the backyard sunshine while he naps (and yes, I’d rather be doing that than writing this). I think about him having a room of his own and being able to scream with glee or fury without my worrying about the neighbours. And I think about him growing up near my parents, and his cousins, people I love dearly and want in his life and mine.

In Ontario, when we looked at the possibilities, we were inflated rather than deflated. We kept reading listings going “Listen to THIS” and then recited lists that amazed us—2 acres, 20 acres, waterfront, swimming pool, old brick house, outbuildings, 4 bedrooms, stunning views….. “Guess how much?” And then we would announce what seems, by BC standards, to be a ridiculously low price in an incredulous voice. We had so many conversations that began with “We could….we would, we could…”

Possibility. It felt good, and sweet. People like us, who work hard and make good income, can actually have a nice place there. Imagine! And coming home, I felt ready to make a leap into a home of our own (and the bank's)and a more rural existence.

But now we’ve been home a week, and the trip has already faded. We’re in limbo until Sean sits down with his employer and figures out if he can move and stay employed with them—which should happen next week. Being in a state of uncertainty is hard, especially when you’re twitching to jump off the cliff and free fall into whatever is next. I get bummed, and restless. Some may say, impatient.

Ah, maturity. Adulthood. We’ve been so careful—we tend to be slow (sometimes I think too slow) to major decisions, and now we’ve arrived in this wonderful place where we have lots of appealing choices before us. So appealing that it’s bittersweet, because we won’t be able to realize all the possibilities, and will have to accept some loss with whatever choice we make. Still, staying the same is not an option anymore, and the future looks bright. So let’s go there, I say, and see what it has in store.