This time of year, when the days offer up more and more sunlight, I enjoy sitting in my front yard in the evening. There is a family down the street who’s routine includes a walk around the block. It’s fun to see the youngsters taking in the world around them, shyly saying “hello” to everyone, and asking Dad all sorts of questions. They seem to be growing up right before our eyes. This little guy learned to walk earlier this year. Just look at him now.
Mini backpacking; mini success
Our mini backpacking trip turned out well. Long story, short: we had a very entertaining adventure full of excitement and MANY almost-peed-my-pants-moments. Big Sis arrived at my house early with overflowing enthusiasm and wearing a hat that had a striking similarity to Amelia Bedelia.
Thankfully, Big Sis didn’t share Amelia’s tendency for taking everything literally. No tents were “pitched” into the bushes, and the marshmallows were not thrown into the fire to be “roasted.” The hat didn’t make it through the first mile, just long enough for all to enjoy the first of many hearty laughs.
“monkey donut”
I’ve always thought of my stepson as a pillar of strength — nothing ever phasing him. But a few days ago I was reminded that even strongest buildings are vulnerable to stressors. So before I even rolled out my mat today I chose to dedicate my practice to DD with hopes he would somehow benefit.
When the instructor began she described a picture of a clown balanced on a balloon, with more than a dozen balls in the air to be juggled, and a monkey with a pin in hand threatening to burst the bubble that holds the clown and all that his is juggling — I thought “OMG. This is going to be so perfect.”
Each one of us yogis could easily relate. How often do we find ourselves juggling a vast array of jobs, to-dos, and the responsibilities-essential-to-another’s-well-being. Whether we like clowns, or the Cat in the Hat with the cup, milk, cake, fish, rake, toy ship, etc, no matter how well we are balancing it all, so often we feel that if one more responsibility or task was given to us, we’d fall apart and let everything go to ruin.
“More ease; Less effort.” That was our mantra, or the thread that would weave the string of poses into one fabulous workout and a fabulous practice to dedicate to DD. As we moved through the poses, or asanas, I thought of him. As I stood on one leg with the other outstretched in front, wobbling and trying my best not to fall, she had us scan our bodies for where the areas that were working too hard. I found I could ease the work in my back by straightening out my leg and flexing my toes. “Less effort; More ease,” she called. And I thought of him trying to balance a full-time highly-demanding job, graduate school, and all the responsibilities of living in this stressful day and age. He does it so well, you’d never know he was feeling worn by the demands.
In the mirror, my eyes fall upon a yogi with one of the most perfect eagle poses I’ve ever seen. Everything about it, at least on the outset, whispers “ease.” But when we are asked to grow our pose, this same yogi wobbles and her eagle falls apart completely. My eyes return to my own image. I stare back at myself, serious and full of effort. I take a deep breath and remind myself to find ease. My eagle grows and I can almost see a smile peering out from behind my crossed arms.
My Lil Pumpkin Face
I’m a softie. I let pumpkin carving come before homework. It’s Friday night, but the remainder of the weekend is frighteningly busy. We’ve got playoffs, a sleepover, and much more ahead of us. Still, when YaYa flashed me his sad lil’ pumpkin face, my heart skipped and my stubborn side softened.
Honestly, the kid in me couldn’t wait to create my own Halloween jack-o-lantern. Besides, this is one family event that will be gone before I know it. My baby is growing up so quick.
Bye to BoBo’s leave
YaYa and I were at a stop light, en route to drop off for his 3-day backpacking camp, when it hit me. Mid-sentence, my voice warbled and my eyes welled up with tears as I told YaYa that, after he returns from his trip, we will have one day left to spend with BoBo.
I am planning to take Friday off from work, I explained, so that YaYa, BoBo, and I could spend the day together before he ships off to Moody AFB in Valdosta, Georgia. This will be his new home for the next 2 years (barring he does not get deployed).
Up until today, I think I’ve been in denial in acknowledging that BoBo won’t be back home for a L-O-N-G time. I’ve said it out loud but it hasn’t quite hit me the way it is now starting to.
Months ago, when my son called and told me that he would not be able to come home for Christmas, I was just happy that his “bad news” was not that he was being deployed. Now, however, I am feeling the disappointment.
Once more, I am forced to change with the ever-changing times of my new life – only I am not sure how to change with this one. Frustrated with the return of another broken Christmas, I resist the urge to jump up and down in tantrum-like fashion and cry “This is NOT how it’s supposed to be.” Instead, I remind myself that it is never quite how you imagined it. *sigh*