Sometimes I think of all the things that I’ll pass along to my kids – especially all the things that I want to pass along to them but will likely not ever see come to happen. I mean there’s the financial and material, but also I think about the intangible things. Whenever I think of holding on to stuff for my kids, I think of something the Minimalists said to a listener who was having a hard time cleaning out his parents’ house after their death. “You are your parent’s legacy,” they said, “not their stuff.” It’s still hard for me to get rid of things, but these words are a bit of comfort when I do chose to part with something – these bits and things are not me. But also it’s somehow more weighty to think that my legacy is something so much more lasting than stuff.
At any rate, a lot of the times as I think of what I want my little humans to learn from me, I wonder if any of the good things I want to pass along get through to them. Lord knows, the bad things do… the yelling and the petty grievances, and the bad habits – those I see in them in the most cringeworthy ways. But the good stuff? Or maybe I’m not giving them enough good fodder?
This week, while camping with the two little kids, I tried really hard not to be too busy to enjoy being out in the woods and hanging out with these two little creatures. I’m trying to not let the things that occupy my mind take up so much space that I can’t experience the things that I like about being in the tent – the air, the trees, the golden sunsets, the fire, the unplugging (though to be fair, we had plenty of cell signal the whole time so there was period scrolling and texting).
At one point, as I was trying to make dinner, I realized that I was having a good time. I was enjoying the sunshine and the woods and my kids’ antics. I paused and gave the five year old a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re camping with me. This is fun.”
He gave me back a big hug in return. I turned back to continue to make dinner.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him walk over to his little sister. His pesky little sister that not five minutes ago, was taking his sticks and fighting with him. The little sister who snatches his toys and then laughs in his face at his distress. The little sister who liked putting her feet in her face while they ride in the car. (I really should turn her car seat around…)
He walks over to her, gives her a big hug, and says, “I’m so glad you’re camping with me. This is fun.”
My heart grew a million times. Maybe the good stuff is getting passed down after all. Maybe the good stuff is the stuff that happens when I’m not even trying, but when I’m just simply loving them.
And afternoon at the Theatre! Photo taken by my cousin 🙂
The last weekend in September!
Our big weekend adventure was going to see Hamilton. I had bought tickets last spring so this had been on the calendar for a while. I took the ten year old and the five year old and my cousin. It was the five year old’s first time big theatre experience, so I was really excited to see what he thought. He loves listening to Hamilton and can sing large chunks of it. And when we pray at dinner, he still says at the end, “And God please bless Hamilton’s son, Philip.” The ten year old has been going to the theatre since she was three when she would come watch rehearsals while I worked. She really loves going, and it’s definitely something that I enjoy doing with her.
Not throwin’ away their shot!
There is a quote in Kevin Wilson’s novel Nothing to See Here: “Maybe raising children was just giving them the things you loved most in the world and hoping that they loved them, too.” I think about this quote when I take my kids to the theatre. I was so obsessed with musicals – and later opera – when I was a tween, and this love of theatre led me to what I do today. I hope my kids love the theatre as much as I do, and even though I know they are their own people with their own thoughts and feelings, I’m sure a little part of me will be sad if they don’t love it too.
And truth. Even though the five year old seemed like he had a good time – he’s pretty stoic and reserved so it’s hard to gauge sometimes- afterwards when I asked him if he liked going to see a show, he said, “I’d rather run errands with Dad.” So there’s that.
Reading the program – a very important part of the theatre going experience.
Two things to get off my chest – 1) the show was really loud. I know that I’m used to working in opera where microphones aren’t usually used, but even so, I feel like the show was unnecessarily loud. It made it hard to hear the lyrics clearly sometimes, which is a shame because the words are such a big part of the show’s brilliance . I think I think this every time I see a big show, so it’s not specific to this experience. 2) We sat behind a really tall person, and it was hard to see some of the action onstage. I know, not anyone’s fault, but it was slightly annoying to have to shift in my seat to be able to see who was singing. His party of four or five people was also late getting back at intermission and they had to cross in front of us to get back to their seats, blocking our view of the first number And then he kept his hat on for about half of the second act. I was really irked. I haven’t been to see live theatre like this in so long that I’d somewhat forgotten how much being a part of an collective group of people is central to the experience of going to the theatre. The ten year old didn’t like the person she was sitting next to, so after intermission she swapped seats to sit behind the tall man, that being preferable to her.
On the flip side of the communal experience coin, though, the family sitting behind us was super friendly and before the show we chatted about whether or not we’d seen the show before and how their son had a soccer game right after – friendly idle chit chat, you know. They even told the five year old that he could sit up on his knees if he wanted to see better, and that it wouldn’t bother them or block their view. At the end of the show they complimented us on how well behaved he was, which is always nice to hear as a parent.
We had seen the version of Hamilton released on Disney+, so I knew what to expect in a lot of it. Even still, there is something I love about seeing the whole stage picture rather than close ups and whatever shot the film’s director wants you to see. So much of the choreography and staging features little moments on the second level of the set or in corners of the stage that you don’t see in the film. I think that was one of the things I was so impressed by – the show is so detailed and precise, and I think that is something that came across better watching the show live.
The five year old’s favorite thing was “The magic ceiling.” By which he meant the moment when the lanterns flew in from above to create the ballroom. There is something really dear to me that he called it “magic.” We often use the term “the magic of theatre” when we talk about stage tricks or illusions or even just simple hacks – things like a chandelier that looks amazing and full, but is really half the size and built in a way to skew perspective. Or a sponge of blood hidden on the set so the singer can smear it across their chest and pretend to be stabbed. Or decanter made of breakable sugar glass that shatters onstage at the right time, or a moment of lighting that makes the stage look like sunset. All these we call “magic” but the real magic for us is in the skill that it takes to think of and execute these things. For the five year old, however, a bank of lanterns descending out of the sky without any visible operator – he thinks that is truly magic.
The ten year old’s favorite part was the Schuyler Sisters. She also had some really insightful things to say about how this cast was different than the original cast, which I thought it was cool that she pays attention like that.
View of the Potomac and Georgetown.
After the show we had a bit of time, so we went back to the roof terrace and strolled around and enjoyed the view of the city. It’s one of my favorite places because you can see the Washington, Lincoln, and Jefferson Memorial from there and it feels so classic DC.
Running on the Roof Terrace
For dinner that night, we met up with the Husband, the newly minted three year old, and my mother at a Mexican restaurant. The food there is always tasty and the staff super friendly. I ordered the seafood soup, which come chock full of clams and shrimp and even half a lobster. So tasty and decadent. All that aside, the real reason we picked the restaurant is that they will sing to you on your birthday. I felt a little badly that I didn’t arrange a birthday party for the baby, so I thought this might be a festive way to celebrate. (or to continue celebrating. Believe me, there was a lot of cake eaten between Friday and Sunday.) The restaurant was super crowded and, as always happens, once the staff start singing Happy Birthday, everyone in the restaurant also started singing and cheering. It was a lot of fun. And she even got a free ice cream with a candle in it!
Birthday girl!Not sharing her ice cream.
After that fun filled day, Sunday was pretty chill. The ten year old had swimming clinic, and I took the five year old to meet a friend at the park with my cousin and the baby coming with. Then I took my cousin to the Metro station. A little sadly, because it had been so much fun to have her visit.
The rest of the day was pretty much relaxing and chores. I took a nap in our backyard while The Husband gardened, only to be woken up when it started to rain. Then the Husband and I left the kids at home with my mom and went grocery shopping, which is what counts as a date these days, I guess. The evening I made kitchen sink ramen for dinner – basically ramen with some odd and end veggies I had to use up – two heads of baby bok choy, some broccoli, carrots, and also some shrimp thrown in for protein. It was really tasty, and it allowed the kids the chance to use the learning chopsticks that my cousin had brought.
Chopstick skills!
I don’t remember how I learned to use chopsticks, but I don’t really use them correctly, for which my uncle is always teasing me. I hold the top chopstick between my middle and ring fingers, but one is supposed to use the pointer and middle fingers. My method works for me, but it does look slightly awkward.
I hadn’t thought about teaching my kids to use chopsticks because I figured, “I’m not using them correctly, I don’t know how to teach my kids to do it right.” We’ve had learning chopsticks before for the ten year old but they didn’t quite stick and now she sort of has figured out her own method, which involves a lot of stabbing and scooping. The learning chopsticks my cousin brought are great because they have loops where you put your fingers and the tops are attached, kind of making them like tongs, which is helpful when learning. Plus they are in the shape of Elsa, Rapunzel, and Spiderman. The kids were super excited to use them and a few time the past few days have requested “Chopstick meals.” Kitchen sink ramen, definitely fit the bill.
So a good weekend – a nice combination of something fun and something comfortingly mundane. And now I’m back at work, and it will be November before I have another two day weekend. Oh well, this was for sure a nice weekend.
Glenstone Museum. One of this week’s bright spots.
This week was one of those “between jobs” weeks.
I did not knock out as much of my “To do” list as I wanted – partly because the week after a gig is always a slow re-entry for me, partly too because my cousin came to visit. I do want to be better at picking up life after I’m done a gig. Too often, the aftermath of a gig feels like … well, you know that scene in the Drew Barrymore Cinderella movie Ever After (such a good movie!!!) when Drew is supposed to meet the Prince, but she’s in her servant clothes so she races back to the house, goes in through the back door, and then emerges out of the front door in a gorgeous gown and pearl circlet, just in time to meet the Prince, and then the shot changes to behind the front door, where the servants are collapsed on the floor in exhaustion from having transformed her so quickly….
Yeah, aftermath of a job feels like the servants on the ground in a heap. I’ve spent so much time keeping the job related parts of life afloat, that the non-job parts of life, the parts that actually allow me to function, get somewhat neglected and left in a heap (by me, not by the Husband… he does a magnificent job of holding down the fort!). And when the gig is over, I have to pull the servants up off the floor and put everything back in order, but it takes a while for me to get in the right headspace for it. I fully realize it’s a privilege not to have to figure out how to balance work and life all fifty-two weeks of the year – big props to people who do it – so I want to get better at tackling the life stuff efficiently when I don’t have work stuff on my plate.
I’m pretty good at doing the things I want to do but don’t really get to do when I’m working – I went running three times, had lunch with a friend, made muffins, got to write in this space. It’s the life admin stuff that I struggle to find the discipline to attack – laundry, big organizational projects, paperwork that needs to be done – the adulting stuff, I guess. And now I’m about to go back to work and some of it still looms. I might just have to dedicate time for it when I am working so it doesn’t pile up for when I’m not working on a show.
Some thoughts and things this week:
– The ten year old has started piano lessons again, after a break for much of August. Her lessons are at 7:15am and I particularly notice the shifting of the seasonal light on those mornings when I take her (and the other kids) to these early morning lessons. We’ve passed into the season when the sun is just starting to rise as we pack into the car, and this week, at a stop light, I glanced into the side view mirror and couldn’t resist taking a picture of sunrise behind me. Even though the traffic ahead of me sat in misty morning grey, the cars behind me were bathed in a golden red glow. Soon, I know, it will still be quite dark when we go to piano lessons, but it was a good reminder to savor the beautiful golden moments when I can.
7 am in September.
– I’ve been listening to the podcast Under the Influence with Jo Piazza. (Not to be confused, now that I’ve Googled it, with Under the Influence from the CBC with Tim O’Reilly, which also looks interesting).
It’s a series that takes a look at the world of social media influencers, particularly mothers. I’m only six episodes in, and it’s been fascinating and though provoking. Even though I have social media accounts, I had to quit them cold turkey a few years ago because they had become a time suck and just made me feel bad about my life and career. Still, the idea of being able to make a living through gathering a social media following is really intriguing. The podcast really dissects the cultural implications of how women, who would otherwise be home-makers or stay-at-home mothers – that is to say unpaid labour – have parlayed domestic life with children into a commodity that they can be paid for. The episode on Authenticity, particularly was pretty engrossing, and made me think about how the term “authentic” is often bandied around when describing influencers. Being authentic is valued. But so is being happy and shiny. Yet there is this paradox where when one only posts happy and shiny content, one is labelled as not authentic. I don’t think not posting the rough and hard and ugly parts of life makes a person less authentic. There is something, to me, inauthentic about reaching for a camera and generating content when your child is having a meltdown, rather than putting your camera down and comforting that child. The hard moments aren’t splashed across the happy shiny Instagram, perhaps because people are trying to navigate them rather than share them. I’m all for sharing hard moments – and I really appreciate it when people are brave enough to share them – but I don’t think sharing the hard moments makes a certain person or post more “authentic” than any other. The thing is, any one social media posts can lack context and doesn’t really reflect anything beyond that moment. Even look at our annual Christmas card – I pick the cutest picture of my kids to send to people. Am I being inauthentic because I don’t also include a picture of me washing up a poop accident? It seems like demanding authenticity just sets people – women – up for failure. They make an interesting point on the podcast about how Hillary Clinton was mocked for wearing a scrunchie when that was probably the most true to herself thing that she could wear. While Obama or Trump or any man could probably wake up, take a shower, put on a suit and be ready for a press conference in thirty minutes, Clinton probably has to go through an hour or so of hair an make-up before appearing in public. The degree to which we demand authenticity from women yet at the same time shame her if she doesn’t put on a face, really speaks to a double standard. The conversations on the podcast also has made me think of how I present on this little corner of the internet. I don’t want to be an influencer by any means, and it’s made me realize that while I’m grateful for the handful of people who read, I really just want to write what I want to write and brain dump the things that are interesting to me. Like this podcast, which I highly recommend.
– My mother also came to visit while my cousin was here and I managed to get tickets to the Glenstone Museum, a private museum that specializes in contemporary art, mostly installation pieces from Post WWII. A big part of the collection are sculptures throughout it’s outdoor campus, which makes for a really wonderful afternoon of meandering through trails and sitting and enjoying nature and art. The tickets are released on the first of each month are are usually booked three months out, so I was really surprised when I looked on the website earlier this week and saw that there were tickets available for later in the week. Another things I loved about the museum is they don’t have the usual placards in place giving information and thoughts about the pieces. Rather there are very knowledgeable docents who will talk to you about the artwork and the museum if you want, otherwise they leave you to contemplate the pieces for yourself. I sometimes find contemporary art hard to understand, and being able to talk to a docent and ask questions made the artwork so much more accessible. Definitely worth a trip back.
Koons. We ran out of time so didn’t make it all the way to this one.
The buildings and gardens are also works of art.
– This piece of advice from the blog Ask A Manager:
I sometimes run into this situation with interns and I admit I don’t always have the patience to be gracious about coaching someone through steps that they already have documented in paperwork. “What have you tried so far?” seems to me a great way to help distill where the trainee might be getting hung up, rather than me just telling them how to solve things.
– The big thing this week, was that the baby turned THREE!!! I’m feeling all the feels on this one. The night before her birthday, the Husband says to me, “This is our last day of ever having a two year old.” And it just about slayed me. It’s been hard, certainly, to know that she is our last baby. I love babies – the sweet, cuddly, exploratory, needs-to-be-protected, blind faith, little personalities – they are just such great companions. I’m excited to see who the baby grows up to be, but at the same time nervous because I know I can’t control that. But who she is right now is an adorable, mischievous, intrepid, dexterous, opportunistic, happy, clever, and cheeky little child. She’s the most independent of the three kids and finds such joy in everything around her. Having a baby as the world shut down was not something that I could ever had imagined happening, but she was certainly one of the bright marvels that helped keep things interesting.
Showing us her age!
skating last weekend. I used to think skate helpers were silly, but I realized that for her, keeping up with her siblings was more important than learning to skate properly. So skate helper it was.
What We Ate: I was home all week and all three dinners I cooked were vegan. We’ll see how it goes when I go back to work next week – I feel like vegan meals aren’t as easy to make ahead of time.
Saturday: I was working the evening show. I was running late to work, so I just shoved two half eaten meatball sandwiches from the night before into a container and ate them at my desk. I might have also had an apple.
Sunday: I was working a matinee, so I had bubbly water and cake for dinner at the reception following the performance.
Monday: Orange Cauliflower with Fried Tofu and Rice. The cauliflower recipe was from the Bad Manners Brave New World Cookbook and was their vegan take on orange chicken. Aside from being made from cauliflower rather than chicken, this was healthier because the cauliflower was baked, not fried. Of course then I fried the tofu to go with.
Tuesday: Tacos with meatless meaty filling from Bare Minimum Dinners, with cabbage mango slaw and avocados. I’m really liking Bare Minimum Dinners. There aren’t a lot of vegetarian recipes in it, but this meatless taco filling was pretty great. It’s a combination of mushrooms, walnuts, and pinto beans with the sauce from an adobo pepper in chipotle sauce. It was actually on the spicy side, so I just heated up a can of black beans with cumin and a clove of garlic for the two little kids
Wednesday: We went to meet a friend at a local Biergarten. They have the best wings – they smoke them then fry them so they are so full of flavor. I feel like this evening definitely offset all the vegan dinners we ate this week.
Thursday: Curry Udon Noodles with Teriyaki Jackfruit from Bad Manners Cookbook. This was my first attempt cooking with jackfruit, which I hear touted as a substitute for pork. My verdict – Jackfruit is pretty tasteless, so good sauce is needed. It did mimic the texture of fplled pork, though. But also, I added a bunch of mushrooms in with the Teriyaki sauce, and I think I would be just as happy to eat this dish with mushrooms instead of Jackfruit.
Friday: Pizza (made by The Husband) and movie – Minions: The Rise of Gru. This movie was pretty hilarious in parts, but kind of lost steam towards the end. (Or maybe we lost steam?) And then to round things out…. we had cake. I made a cake for the baby’s birthday and we zoomed the rest of the family to sing happy birthday. (Also sent some store bought cupcakes to school, because I guess this is the times right now where we can only send store bought treats. I understand the reasoning what with allergies and COVID, but it still makes me a little sad.) My cousin helped with the cake – we made this chocolate cake recipe with vanilla frosting and then sort of followed the instructions for a pinata cake. I don’t think the cake was high enough to have the desired effect of m&m spillage. But maybe it’s one of those things that’s only perfect on Instagram?
The view from my pew – the show takes place in a church.
There is a t-shirt floating around in theatre circles that says, “I can’t. I have rehearsal.”
I feel like that is where I’ve been the past two weeks.
We had three days of rehearsal in the rehearsal hall then five days onstage, three of those rehearsals with orchestra. Certainly it’s a truncated rehearsal period from what I was used to. Even still, it was nice to be back in rehearsal and getting a show up off the ground and making things happen for other people. It’s also my first time working in this venue with this group and everyone has been incredibly supportive and positive even though we are doing something fairly ambitious. I’ve been at my main stage management gig for fifteen years now (whoa! when did that happen?!?), and there is an easy familiarity with the crew that I regularly work with there – even so, I’m being reminded this past week that there are kind competent (beyond competent, really) people in many theatres all over and it’s good for me to work with and for new people. Getting to work for a stage manager that I’ve known for years certainly helps makes things easier.
Anyhow, the show opened last night. I think it’s a great show – the music is stunning and the cast, many from the musical theatre world, really sing their hearts out. There is a certain raw physicality that musical theatre performers have that opera singers don’t necessarily always display and I’ve had a lot of fun watching the show come together- it’s like they sing with their whole body, and they aren’t afraid of making the music sound ugly.
Some things on my mind lately: -I’ve barely seen the kids lately – because of being at the theatre late, I tend to sleep in late, waking up just in time to pack lunches and maybe feed the little kids breakfast, though the Husband often does that. Big props to the Husband for holding down the fort and solo parenting in the evenings. Of course, it should mean that I cherish and savour the time I do have with my kids, but it’s kind of been… not relaxing. I’ve been turning over in my mind why I struggle with parenting and how I can feel more confident about how I help my kids launch into the world. I think a lot of it boils down to resetting the expectations I have and learning to see my kids as their own people. I’ve been listening to The Puberty Podcast, and this episode on helping kids thrive really helped frame some of my struggles.
– I’m giving myself gold stars for good tech week life habits. I squeezed in a run on my dinner break one day, even though it was raining. I packed lunch and dinner and lots of healthy-ish snacks. (Though I did buy a cookie the day of final dress because the work cafeteria has the best fluffiest chocolate chip cookies, as big as my face and I thought by then I deserved to indulge). I went to bed pretty much as soon as I came home.
– Having said that, I will say, I did stay up an extra half hour one night to scroll the news of the Queen’s death and all the pageantry and protocols that are involved in laying her to rest. The breadth and depth of her life amazes me. Also, on another level, I keep thinking about the amount of work and planning that must be involved in a royal funeral and a coronation and everything. And there hasn’t been a change in British monarch in seventy years so there is no one around who can say, “Well the last time, we did this, this, and this.” I’m sure all the protocol and procedures are written down somewhere, but as someone who puts on shows for a living, I bet there will be things that come up where they say, “Wait… how did they do it last time? Why didn’t they write that down?” The logistics of how to figure out what to do fascinates me as much as the actual logistics of the proceedings.
-I do not give myself a gold star on life admin during tech week, though. The life to do list is a little lengthy right now and it’s causing a little bit of stress for me. The Husband and I had lunch yesterday and I didn’t have the brain to think about the litany of house/life maintenance that we need to get done this fall.
-The kids take any opportunity when they see my phone lying around to take pictures. Some days I open up Photos to find fifty nine pictures of the baby’s foot. But sometimes, mostly orchestrated by the oldest child, something like this appears in my photo roll, and it makes me smile.
– These lines from one of the arias in my show:
When the thunder rumbles now the age of Gold is dead. And the dreams we’ve clung to, dying to stay young have left us parched and old instead. When my courage crumbles, When i feel confused and frail. When my spirit falters, on decaying alters. And my illusions fail.
I go on right then. I go on again. I go on to say I will celebrate another day. I go on.
I’ve been so intrigued by the last five lines – is the idea that there will always be another day, and we should celebrate that day? That is to say, just having another day is cause for celebration? Or is the idea that even if today is hard and we don’t feel like celebrating, there will be days in the future where we will want to celebrate the things that we hold dear, so we should push forward? I love both sentiments.
These are the deep thoughts that I contemplate during rehearsal sometimes…
It’s a beautiful piece. You can hear this aria sung in a piano arrangement here.
Things I am grateful for: – The stranger behind me at a stoplight who got out of his car to flag me down and tell me my gas cap had rolled off my roof five blocks back. I thought I was trying to be efficient by cleaning the garbage out of the car while I pumped gas, but it got me off my rhythm of pump gas, replace gas cap, get receipt. -The Husband for getting the kids fed and to bed every night by himself. He even took the ten year old to basketball practice and the five year old to skating lessons, hauling all the kids around. -The kids for (mostly) getting themselves ready in the morning, so I can sleep til 7am most mornings. – Supportive colleagues and kind people to work with. -The cooler weather. Fall is here in the mornings, though summer still lingers in the afternoons. -The Husband for getting my bike tuned up. I went for a little bike ride this morning as I had neither work nor children to stop me. It was hard, but felt like a perfect fall activity.
What we ate – I did manage to prep dinner for most of the first week of rehearsal, even though I was working and didn’t make it home in time to eat with everyone. Most nights I had leftovers from the previous evening for dinner myself. The second week of rehearsal, the Husband planned and cooked dinner all on his own. I might have pressed tofu one night, but he handled everything else. I have no idea what they ate, so only the menu from the first week below.
Saturday: Pizza and Movie Night. We watched Secondhand Lions, a movie from 2003 that was really charming and delightful. The film, about a boy who is left with his eccentric uncles (played by Robert Duvall and Michael Caine) was the embodiment of “family movie”… I think the word “wholesome” feels out of style right now, but that would describe this movie. I don’t think they make family films like this these days; everything is superheroes and explosions.
Sunday: This was the day we went to the Renaissance Festival. We got home around 7pm so all I could muster was snack dinner, which the kids actually loved and have asked if we can do it again. I just assembled a bunch of stuff, made sure I had all the food groups, tossed it on a plate and put it in front of the kids.
Snack dinner.
Monday: Labor Day – It was proposed that we ought to grill. So, I decided to grill some meatballs from the Milk Street Tuesday Night Mediterranean. The recipe called for broiled, but I thought they worked well on the grill. I guess grilling a meatball is not much different form grilling a burger – ground meat on fire. Also grilled eggplant and Zucchini
Tuesday: This favorite vegan Gnocchi soup – at the request of the five year old. I made most of it ahead of time, so that all the Husband had to do when he came home was to bring the pot to a boil and add the kale and gnocchi. Apparently the baby even ate the kale bits. Surprising because she is in a “I don’t like vegetables” phase. (Which isn’t entirely true, but veggies are pretty hit or miss with her).
Wednesday: The Husband made stir-fry and rice.
Thursday: Instant Pot pinto beans, made before I went to work. Eaten with corn tortillas and a simple cabbage slaw.
The picture and directions I sent to the Husband for Thursday night’s dinner.
Friday: The Husband took to the kids to the golf course for the outdoor concert, and they ate sandwiches.
One of the things I’ve been trying to get back into is a short morning yoga routine. Even though YouTube abounds with yoga practices, I find I can focus better without the visual element so I usually use yoga podcasts to guide me. I know I could always just turn the volume off of a YouTube video, but I find that the people who lead the practice are less descriptive when there is a visual component. My current ideal yoga routine length is about twenty to twenty five minutes. I can do a longer practice in a class, but for some reason when on my own, I can’t focus as long. (I know the point of yoga is focus, so this is a little ironic).
The kids are now of an age that they can fend for themselves for twenty minutes in the morning while I slip away to the basement and roll out my yoga mat and put my earphones in. I’m not quite sure what they do for those twenty minutes, but I don’t think they are getting into the knives or burning the house down, so I figure they’ll be fine. Sometimes they are getting into my chocolate stash, though, which is almost as dire. On a good day, they are getting dressed.
The other day, as I was doing my yoga, the baby came down. She thinks it’s great fun to crawl all over me while I’m doing yoga. Something about the various poses screams “HUMAN JUNGLE GYM!!! OPEN FOR CLIMBING!!!”. She’ll sit on me while I do bridge pose, and giggle as she goes up and down with my pelvis. Warrior two finds her climbing up on my bent leg to hang on to my arms. Downward dog makes a tunnel for her to crawl under. It does make it a little difficult to move into chaturanga or plank pose to have her lying under me. Sometimes we play “squish” the baby when that happens.
In a way, it reminds me of when the kids were just born and I took a post-natal yoga class at my local hospital. They were held on weekday mornings and the new moms would always come in gingerly with their little squishy babies. The instructor was so amazing and she taught us to be as gentle with ourselves as we were with our little babies. Some classes, I spent the entire 45 minutes nursing, though I did manage to figure out how to nurse a baby while in bridge pose…. I’m listing this as one of my hidden talents.
At a birthday party recently, I talked to someone recently whose son was in the same pre-school class as my five year old. Turns out we had been in the same post natal yoga class with these boys who are now about to start Kindergarten. She commented on how she felt like she spent the whole class nursing and was always a little frustrated by that. “I finally got out of the house to do something,” she said, “And I still ended up attached to the baby. I felt so frustrated because I just wanted to spend some time doing something. It was supposed to be me time!”
I feel that resentment sometimes when the baby interrupts my yoga. This is me time, not mommy baby time. Yet the other day, when she came down and proceeded to insert herself into my routine, I tamped down my annoyance and tried to lean into it. I tried to savour her playfulness and her big smiles as she looked at me from below as I attempted some kind of Warrior. I took on her weight when she jumped on me as I was doing a seated forward fold. And I gave her kisses as I went from cow to cat and back again.
And then I settled into shavasana – aka corpse pose, aka the pose at the end of the practice where you just lie on your back and let go. The moment I was supine, the baby crawled on top of me and put her head on my chest. Well, actually at first she dug her pointy little chin on my chest, which was not relaxing. So I said, “Can you put your cheek on my chest?” and she turned her head to one side and laid her pillowy round cheek over my heart. And as the voice in my ear told me to relax and breathe and empty my mind, I thought, “With a thirty pound toddler on me? You’re kidding right?”
Then something happened as I tried to obey the voice in my ear that told me to breath and let go. I took deep breaths, and the baby breathed with me. And as we lay there, breathing together, I realized, “Okay, this is ‘me time’ too.” And all my resentment went away. Because I realized, right now, in this season of life, these kids are a part of me. I don’t mean that in the scary self-erasing, symbiotic almost parasitic sense that I sometimes feel when my kids are draining the energy from me. Nor was it one of those sentiments where I’m sacrificing myself and my tranquility on the altar of motherhood for these little terrors, you know, all the toxicity of the tired mom trope.
It was just this realization that our lives have been so intertwined and close, particularly these past two years, and that yeah, I do identify a lot as a mom these days, and it’s absolutely okay to allow myself to feel so defined by that. If a lot of the stress and anger and despair I feel within me some days come from parenting, then certainly a lot of the joy and wonder and peace does to. Like this moment, trying to squeeze in some yoga with a toddler interjecting at every turn. Come the following week, the kids will all be in school, and me time may look very different. For now, though, me time can be mom time, savoring the sweet weight of a little person doing Shavasana with me.
