Monthly Archives: November 2012

Flying By The Seat of My Pants, Part 2

Plane travel not advised. That is the warning label that should have come on my youngest child. Miss L, in all her cuteness, made it loud and clear that she does not enjoy plane travel.

When asked how our flights went once we landed in Minnesota to celebrate the week leading up to Thanksgiving, my reply was simply, “Awful.” When people were surprised because they see how chill Miss L is, I explain.

She yelled, she fussed, she squirmed. It was hot and crowded. The first hour was fine. The second hour was rough. Starting the third and final hour, we had doubt. My husband turned to me and said, “So is this worth it?” And I wasn’t sure.

But you know, as a parent, you deal, you smile, you carry on. We got there, we got to my parent’s house. We had a great week. And, then it was time to go again. I had some dread, but it was so rough on the way over I figured it couldn’t get worse. I was wrong.

The way home Miss L screamed in my face for 28 minutes solid. She is a very healthy seven month old with very powerful vocals. She has found her voice. Once she calmed, I distinctly heard the young couple behind me sigh in irritation. I clearly heard the words, “I don’t ever want one of those.”

So, this made me furious. Then I realized it was ironic. A sort of karmic payback for all the times, pre-kids, that I judged parents on planes with their crying babies and fussy toddlers. I had no idea. I want to find them all and tell them I’m sorry for the stink eye. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.

Nevertheless, we survived. I’m immensely grateful to yoga for the years I’ve learned to stay calm, breathe deeply and just surrender to a difficult moment. And grateful to the woman in front of me with a massive key chain that my screaming, fussy darling girl found enchanting.


Flying By the Seat of My Pants, Part 1

I liken flying with young children to giving birth. For the holidays, I will be traveling with a 2.5 year old and a 6 month old. Here’s what I mean: I’m taking the same approach to flying with young children that I did to giving birth. My intention is to do it naturally, however, I’m not above the use of medications to ease the experience for all involved. Somewhat joking, somewhat serious; but truthful.

It’s been said for ages, but there is no instruction manual on raising children. It’s hard to know what’s right, what’s fair, what’ll be a mistake in hindsight, etc. I truly feel like I’m flying by the seat of my pants, making decisions in the moment, trusting my mama gut instinct and hoping for the best.

I wish that I could know how best to handle our upcoming voyage. How to prepare for entertainment of two young ones, how to manage all the gear and baggage they need, how to be ready for meltdowns that I anticipate will happen in a three-hour flight.

I’ve got my standbys of snacks, books, new toys, a tablet with a ready to watch cartoon movie and advice passed on from other mom friends. Other moms really are like lifesavers. They have wisdom, advice, tales of terror and triumphs. To take the metaphor another step, not all lifesavers are my favorite flavor, but I can see the beauty, value and heart in each one.

I look forward to reporting back on how the travels go and whether or not we’d do it again.

Happy Thanksgiving!



An Honest Conversation

I’m feeling stuck on my motivation to get my core, my waistline and my body back to the size, shape and strength that I want it to be. I’ve been “swimming” with this idea, ruminating on it, thinking long and hard. I’ve been having several honest conversations with myself and finally had one out loud with a friend who also happens to be a personal trainer and a nutritionist.

Here’s what our conversation boiled down to: I’m feeling stuck in finding my motivation.

When I’m pregnant, I’m the healthiest version of myself and it’s easy to find the strength to resist foods that aren’t good for us, to workout, to do prenatal yoga, and I glow. I’m just one of those pregnant ladies. But… post-baby, post-delivery, post-realization that I want to be a healthier version of me…

I’m stuck. As I told the nutritionist, I already workout so much between my own workouts, teaching fitness classes, my own yoga practice and teaching yoga; I know it’s the nutrition. But I’m not sure I’m ready to change, I’m not sure I’m ready to give up the foods that I love and that I crave. Frankly, I’m not sure I’m willing.

To take my honesty another level, I’m scared. I’m scared of being unable to make the changes. I’m scared to feel hungry. I’m afraid to let myself and others done. I’m scared I can’t change. And I’m scared I won’t change. I don’t feel motivated. I don’t feel ready. I feel stuck.

Where to find motivation?? That’s what I’m searching for now.


Not All Hips Are Created Equal

Assumptions. Well, you know the saying, “when we assume, it makes an ass out of u and me.”

This week, while teaching a prenatal yoga class, I was reminded about seeing each person for who they are, as they are, in the moment. It’s easy to fall into habitual patterns in life. The way we talk to coworkers, the commute we drive, the family dysfunctions, the way we teach a yoga class. These patterns are comfortable, familiar and much easier than staying present in the moment.

There I was cueing a lovely, deep hip opener for my class. One of the common things I’ve been seeing in my students and in myself is tight hips. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty common in our desk-bound, driving-everywhere, society. But I digress….

When I’m guiding the class to move into half pigeon, I like to offer the block as a prop to support a student’s hip while they are in the pose so that they can relax their muscles more but not having to hold themselves up. In fact, this prop mention had become part of my cueing language. But, this one class, this one student, her hip already touched the floor. She did not need the block. It’s wonderful and great for her to have hip joints that are open in this manner and here, I had her trying to wedge a block underneath her hip for no reason. I had to laugh at myself and acknowledge my assumption.

I wasn’t seeing her for herself, in the moment, that class, that practice. I was seeing what I’m used to seeing in my students. I felt hugely grateful to her and her hips for being reminded that all hips are not created equal. And that it is my job, responsibility, purpose and even my wish to be present, for each moment, seeing each person for who they are, as they are, without judgement or assumptions.

And that’s what it’s all about, right? Staying present. That’s what we learn in yoga, that’s what we teach in yoga. And I was reminded of this very thing by my student and her incredibly open hip joints. This is why, too, we honor the teacher and the student in all beings and all things. Namaste.


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