Sleep tight...

I'm getting ready for bed but I thought I should drop in and drop a few lines.

Life is good--I'm over my yoga upset. Had a fine practice myself yesterday morning and figured the incident itself was a test of my "yoga". I'm not sure how I did on that test but I'm thinking not so good.

Anyways, we spent the evening at a cast party for my little guy and his fellow cast mates from the play they were in recently--the one that took this family on a whirlwind! It was nice--cool people, cool atmosphere. All in all can't complain.

I had Jen drive me home so I could practice yoga and she did. Once she left, I was on the porch fiddling with the Halloween lights and getting bit by mosquitos. I thought I would turn the porch light off so as to not attract them as much and when the knob wouldn't turn, I realized I was locked out. I had locked myself out--what a moron!

I went to one neighbor's house and he shredded a giftcard trying to open my lock but no go. I went to another neighbor's house to borrow her phone and phone book--I thought I would call Jen at this party and have her come home w/her keys. The phone number was perpetually busy. So I left here and thought I might walk to the party site--maybe two miles away. I got to the main road and thought, "What the hell are you doing". I see it all the time. A woman walking alone at night and becomes a victim--I am an advocate for these women for Christ's sake. So I go to another neighbor's house to use their phone and try ONE MORE time to call this lady's house having the party. Nothing--still busy. This neighbor offers to drive me to the party and I was beside myself excited! I couldn't thank him enough and he was so very sweet about it, so nonchalant, like it was no big deal.

So once Jen gets me back to the house, I keep the keys in my pocket while I finish the lights outside, just in case.

When the kids get home about an hour later, they are stoked about the lights. I'm happy they are happy.

Then I hit the grocery before they closed and am preparing to go to bed as I write this.

Hopefully, I can have some yoga time in the morning--I have A LOT of preparation before next month's class.

The weirdest day

So today I'm all psyched to go to yoga--power yoga. I take a quick power nap after a long day of activities for my kids and I leave the house when partner gets home with 40 minutes for my drive.

Yeah. Not happening and this became very apparent when it was 10 to 6 (class starting time) and I was still in dead stopped traffic and could see the overpass I was to merge onto, also dead stopped traffic.

I was in a very un-yogic huff. Drove home and decided to attend another yoga class at 7:15. Chilled for a bit at home and left again.

I walk into the yoga studio and there is no one there yet so I start a few sun salutations, glad that there will obviously NOT be a crowd tonight. My yoga teacher comes in and we chit-chat but come 7:15 NO OTHER STUDENTS. She's totally weirded out. Making comments about not being able to teach to one student, doesn't know how, has never had to do it. She's freaking me out. Should I just go? I ask. Do you mind? She replies.

Off the record: Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know what I had to do to get here tonight? Do you know how bad I need this class and you can't get over a hang-up to teach the one student who bothered to come to your lame ass yoga class?!?!?

So, I'm cool but allowing a bit of irritation to rise to the surface and I pack up my mat to leave. She walks out, apologizing and further exploring how weird this is. I say don't sweat it and make my way to my car.

All the way home I'm trying to figure this weird shit out. Why were there so many barriers to my yoga practice tonight? Was this a message from the universe or just shit happening at precisely the wrong moment in my life?

I feel so ill-equipped

There are days when I feel inadequate for mothering and then there are days when I am certain I am ill-equipped to be raising my children. That level of honesty is difficult to admit, it's difficult for those words to float around outside of my mind.

I could not go to sleep last night because I was grieving over how I had spoke to my son--my sarcastic tone and his quivering lip when I spoke. Instead of stopping my tirade and hugging him, I continued.

It's not important how it happened--just that it happened at all.

Chillin' with Cool Chi

Monday: 10/01/2007

I had a great weekend! The sun set on the chaos in my life. I had my yoga teacher training, which totally aligned my positive chi, opened my third eye, balanced the chakras and all that yoga jazz. My children were stars, each in their own way and, did I mention the sun set on the chaos in my life? It was ALL good.

Every month, for one weekend, I am attending a yoga teacher certification course. This past was my second weekend and I am already able to tell a difference but am also left wondering, will there be room for my imperfections in the wake of this course? Am I still allowed? And if I walk in the yogi way, will I still have writing material for my column?

Uh, something tells me: yeah.

Nevertheless, I am trying to be more mindful, more patient and more loving--to everyone, including the dung-bugs that cut me off in traffic or the personality challenged robots who ring up my groceries sometimes. But it's hard to be nice when you are faced with someone who is not so nice. You know the whole angel and devil on the shoulder bit? Well, it's like the yogi on my shoulder gets clobbered by the rogue monk on my shoulder that wants to throw down at the mere suggestion of peaceful, loving resolve.

Ommmmm.

Okay, so this may take more work but I'm journeying man, one weekend at a time.

So, anyway, my daughter had her FIRST EVER solo dance performance and for her, this was BIG. She has always been very satisfied and safe in the crowd of ladies dancing together but to step out on her own has horrified her. How cool that I got to journey with her on this? To see her open her heart and mind to a totally new and slightly uncomfortable experience? It was sweet! I could have never achieved such an accomplishment when I was her age man, I was just trying to survive back then. My daughter's dance? American Tribal Style Bellydancing and the way she moves defies the bones beneath her skin. The beauty of it? She has no idea how beautiful she is, not a clue, for she is the epitome of humble.

My son's play opened, for it's one and only performance, at UNF Sunday night and he rocked! They all did, I could easily spotlight him because he's my babe but the entire cast was wonderful and they have worked so hard, thus the chaos in my life. The last seven weeks, our family has endured a very active rehearsal schedule and I fared the best I could. My son, on the other hand, was a precocious professional. Here again, I was taken on a journey with him, witness to a powerful process--an awakening within him. He would lock himself in his room and practice, practice, practice. He would take notes at rehearsals and actually "got into character" on the stage. Sweet. My son's performance? A musical about peace, celebrating diversity and the tragic costs of war, whether personal, national, international or global. What a message to immerse yourself in at nine years old.

That's the jazz of mothering for me. Not only do I get to have my own joys and journeys along the way but I get to ride theirs as well.

Thursday: 10/04/2007

My mom calls this morning and tells me about a local anchor woman who has posted on her blog about yelling at her children and how lousy she feels--a club the first mother on earth started and subsequent mothers have been joining ever since. This courageous, honest anchor woman goes on to say she expects to receive hate mail from her confession.

Here's where the rogue monk on my shoulder wants to throw down, so I'll proceed from a place of peace when I say what I want to say here. I'll personally kick the butt of anyone who blasts this woman for yelling at her children, in a yogi kind of way.

It is liberating to admit to yelling at your children. They are not always fun to be around, at times, they are down right irritating. How dare society guise the reality of having kids in smiling-robot-mom-clorox commercials or greeting card poetry or lip service from clueless politicians or ridiculous mothering manuals as if we can know or care about what-to-expect once we've met these dear creatures we call our offspring.

Yeah, a bit of a tirade here I suppose but I feel for this anchor woman. If we were in a place where we could be honest about how we love our children, how we mess up, how we feel about them at different times in our lives at different points in their behavioral spectrum, the pressure of being responsible for human life, the painful remorse of allowing your mouth to open when you know good and damn well that you should suck on a fist, if we were in this place, well, we would probably still have to clean the toilet and diaper the butts and cook their dinner BUT, we might be a little less likely to yell, a bit less likely to break down and a lot less likely to feel alone in a world brinking on population saturation.

Hats off to you mama anchor woman, I yell at my kids too.