An Oda to Yoga

The goal today: Finish a 22 minute yoga segment on the DVR in the peace and quiet of the basement

It started out on target.
Yoga outfit- check. DVR on fitness tv - check.
PLAY
"Start in a kneeling position and draw in your..."
"Oh hi mom... just bringing down my sheets," says a twin tossing the sheets next to me where I will certainly take a downward dog digger if I step too far to the right.
PAUSE.
Collapse into resigned mom pose, with a smile of appreciation that yes he did get them off the bed as requested.
"Dude, think you could put it in the washer for me? Thank you."
"Sure, see ya later mom," he trots back upstairs.
"Hey, please shut the door so the dog doesn't come down, thank you!" I call up the stairs.
Deep yoga breath, PLAY
Two minutes later while comfortably swinging in ragdoll position, the basement door creaks open. Trot trot trot trot comes the neurotic canine. All smiles and slobbery tongue.
"Are we playing what are we playing am I supposed to lick you maybe knock you over huh huh what's this game?"
PAUSE
Disengage from pose, walk calmly upstairs, breathing deeply.
"Seriously, who let the dog downstairs. Guys, I can't do Yoga with the dog jumping at me."
"Ok mom," says twin #2 absentmindedly from the computer.
"Dude, where are your sheets?" I ask, now clearly off task.
"I'll get 'em mom," he says as I decide I might as well grab a water now that I'm up here.
Water - check. Door Shut in dog's face - check.
PLAY
"Flow into plank and now into updog," says my very patient instructor.
Ringggg, Ringgggg
I'll get it later, I think to myself, flowing gracefully into the next sequence.
But no, twin #1 is coming down the stairs. Any other day, nobody answers the phone around here but me.
"Yep, she's doing Yoga. Here she is," he hands me the phone.
PAUSE
A brief discussion on the trials of mom-ercise follows.
PLAY
"Plant your heels into the ground, lift your arms into tree..." she begins again.
Suddenly I'm on a roll, flowing this way and that, breathing unconsciously becoming one with my spirit...
"Oh hi mom, here's my sheets," twin #2 drags them by, and I, with a leg in the air, quickly direct him to the laundry room.
PAUSE. REWIND
Back to leg in the air. Sweep it forward into runner's pose.
"Shooty shoot shoot," I mutter realizing I forgot to make a wake-up call to a friend and am now about half an hour late. (Good thing someone brought the phone down.)
PAUSE
Brief discussion on my ability to lose track of time follows.
PLAY
It's now been 45 minutes and I still have 5 minutes left. Warrior pose to backward reach back to warrior (which incidentally I dig that pose) circle down to runners stretch finish with yogi squat (another awesome choice) and some deep breathing.
Strangely I feel relaxed.
I can only imagine what it would feel like to do it without the chaos.
Namaste
STOP

Old Yeller

Tonight my 10-year-old twins are having a hard time falling asleep.
They know the end is near, nearer than anybody wants to admit, for Yellow Dog.
You see, the nearly 13year-old lab we affectionately refer to as Rufus, Yellow, Stinky, Jacka--, Old Lady, Dufus, Schmoofus and sometimes even her real name "Boise" is really starting to fail.
We've thought she was on her way out before and she fooled us. But lately, but watching her arthritic joints try to get up and go I realize they are getting up and going. As she tenuously rises from her well-used doggy bed, I can see her back leg slip.
Yet, despite the arthritis, incontinence and often bad case of flatulence; despite the myriad of pills she takes each night (see previous blog on how I got in on that action once) she is still wagging and eating.
Despite the long naps, she still remembers every morning to get to the front door and wait for it to open onto the front porch. And there she sits, paws hanging over the top step watching the kids get on the bus. It's the same at 3 o'clock each afternoon, when she limps to the front door once again waiting for the return of her family.
She's even still a little feisty. This summer, she could still destroy a hosta within minutes. She has taken to barking in the middle of the room for no good reason. And she refuses to go up the ramp into the back door without a push from behind. And at about 10 o'clock each night, she appears around the corner and plops down on the rug in front of the tv. And then she waits. And if you don't get your duff off that couch to lay down next to her for some ear scratching, she will roll over and start making the weirdest noise so you can't hear the tv.
We can barely recall the days when Yellow was a spaz of a puppy, and if you've seen or read Marley & Me you know just what I'm talking about. But I'm okay with what I have now. And for as long as I've got, I'll appreciate the loyal, sweet and loving (and okay, stinky) dog who became one of the family more than a decade ago.

Poor Children

My children are the last kids in their town to have a "DS" (that would be Nintendo DS Lite handheld gaming system).
So they say.
And I can see why they think so.
A few weeks ago we walked into a waiting room in our town and there was a little 3-year-old girl in pigtails and maryjanes playing guess what? Yep, a DS.
The Boo looked at me nearly cross-eyed with a scrunched up face and pointed (German Short-haired hunter style). "See? Even she has a DS Mom!" he groaned through his gritted teeth.
So..... the poor children took matters into their own hands. Today, two of them sat down cut out a piece of paper (I do provide scissors, paper and the occasional wedge of crayon)folded it in half, drew a screen and a keyboard and carried them around all afternoon.
See, people, this is what I'm saying: If I simply provide them with the electronic, then I'm doing them a disservice. How else do I explain their wonderful creativity!

The Sugar Buzz

When I pass the Golden Arches anymore, I can't possibly drive by. I have to drive in. I have to pull up to the speaker and order "Two Sweet Teas please."
"Anything else?" queries the voice of McOZ.
"No," I wince. "Just the tea please."
And hurry.
Because I'm jonesing for the tea. I'm not kidding. It's an addiction worse than biting my nails.
I've had more than one a day, and if you've ever tried one, you know how much sugar I will have ingested. A pound or so, I swear. Once or twice I've even had the shakes coming down from a sweet tea binge. I will even forgo a coffee for a sweet tea and that, friends, should tell you something.
I do have a cohort in crime. You see, Susi used to live in Tennessee and there sweet tea is king. So once she discovered the McD's sugary beverage she was hooked too. Thus the reason we have the pact. Should one of us drive thru MickeyD's without acquiring an additional beverage for the other, this act shall be punishable by... well, let's just say we haven't tested it out yet. Friendship and Sweet Tea is on the line. And those are two things I don't want to do without!

Post Script -- you wouldn't believe the number of people out there who blog about their addiction to sweet tea. It's a 320 calorie conspiracy!

But what are they for?

So, the boys (ages 9,9,8) are sitting in the backseat of the minivan (of course, what did you think I drove?) punching and poking and pulling at each other on the short ride to soccer practice.
One of them says: "Come on guys, Mom said no more punching each other in the nuts!"
And another says: "I know but why can't we punch each other in the nuts?"
Someone else says: "Yeah, mom, what's in there that can get hurt?"
And I say after realizing this could go in many different directions depending on how I handle it: "Stuff," I handily come up with, glancing in the rearview mirror to see how this will be taken.
"But what kinda stuff. What are they for," comes a voice from the back.
"Stuff for when you grow up and want to have kids," I throw out there and take a right turn toward the school.
"WE HAVE KIDS IN THERE!" Boo exclaims.
This is no kidding funny stuff for the blog, I think immediately.
"No, you don't have kids in there."
"But what is it then?" he queries.
Stick to the facts reporter, I tell myself.
"It's liquid guys, ok. Let's just move on now."
To which the Bean, always good for a grand statement, holds up a finger in the air and declares : "I know that's the reason why the human body is 98 percent liquid water."


Post Script: The funniest thing to me is that this similar conversation happened to my friend Jill and her three boys back in Michigan a few years ago. But those boys reasoned that two nuts meant two kids. She had to laugh wondering if they thought a friend of ours with five kids at the time, had a whole bunch of them!

Summer Musings

What I learned on my summer vacation...
It is not wise to eat a FiberOne Oat & Chocolate Bar before spending the day at the beach.
I like the silly, freakish cartoon called Chowder on the Cartoon Network. Something about it cracks me up. Try it, you'll like it. Either that or I'm mad from too much summertime tv.
Spray-on sunscreen is awesome, however, between four kids it lasts one trip to the pool. Back to the old slather-it-on-while-the-kids-squirm-and-whine-"that's-enough-mom"
til-they-look-like-a-wet-ghost stuff.
Wet beach towels create lots of laundry. (see previous blog on laundry situation.)
And the phrases "Stop annoying me," "Mom, I'm bored," and "Do I have to..." never go out of style.

Feeling a Little Shaggy Lately

Those of you with kids will understand when I say the end of the school year has me running around like a dog chasing its tail. All the end of the year parties are approaching, sports are frenetically wrapping up and I spend more time shuttling kids to and fro many appointments.
But I guess I didn't realize how discombobulated I'd become until one night, last week I took the dogs medicine.
Yes, you heard right. Took it. Took it out of the bottle, got distracted on my way to shove it into her mouth and do that stroke the neck until it goes down thing. Took and got myself a glass of water, popped it in my mouth and swallowed. At which point, my eyes must have bugged out of my head in surprise, like those cartoon people.
"Omigod," I said to The Man who is sitting at the computer working. "I just swallowed the dog's medicine."
He turned around in resignation of my stupidity. "I have no words," was all he could say.
Of course, I started laughing/crying with the true understanding that I must have really lost my mind this time. And I get online to ask the all-knowledgeable Google what I should do.
Do you know that when I typed in "I accidentally swallowed my dog's medicine" there were actually three other people who had done so? Okay, it's not a large group but I am proud to be part of such a rarity.
We determined that I should be fine, afterall it was only a small amount of thyroid medicine - perhaps I could use a dose - and if turned into the shaggy dog by the next morning we would know we were wrong.
On the medical information on bottle it says "Keep away from small children."
I'm pretty sure it should have the disclaimer : "And from run-ragged crazy moms!"