Yoga with Kids

By adhering to the following prerequisites, you too can have a complete yogic experience with your children.


image from NPR

image from NPR

  • Start by choosing your mat.  When your children see you roll out yours, they will immediately clamor for one of the remaining mats (tip: be sure to have only one of each color and one less than the number of children).
  • Place yours in an open area, free from obstacles and other people.  Your children will fill in the void.
  • Set your yoga strap at your side, easily accessible during your practice.  Your children will be able to grasp it easily as well to whip each other.
  • Don’t forget yoga blocks – in case you need extra support during a stretch.  Or a teething ring or projectile.
  • Clear your mind.  Your children will ping around like ping-pong balls no matter what venomous thoughts you entertain.
  • Lie in repose.  Ignore that fact that a toddler’s thick skull could sucker punch you in the gut at any moment.
  • Oh, and be sure to slide your sandals off before lying down, but keep them close by.  Your particularly feisty child may need a missile to launch at you for not arranging her not-right-color mat properly.
  • Range through the poses at your own pace – not that of your instructor.  You need to adjust for puppies crawling through your downward dog, snakes wriggling under your bridge, monkeys hanging onto your tree.
  • Accept your body as it is.  Don’t force the sore muscles of your shoulder or your tight hamstrings.  Your children will do that when they knock into you, sending your warrior tumbling.
  • Move your yoga practice outside for inspiration and variety.  Tell your children they may play nearby if they tire of yoga.  They will tire of yoga, but will stay right by your side, taunting and pleading for snacks and your attention.
  • Scan your body for areas of tension.  Notice the up-tick in your blood pressure as your children attempt acrobatics off the couch onto the yoga mats.
  • Do not abandon your practice before it is finished.  You came here to find inner peace and relax, dammit.

What I’ve Learned in a Week

The selection of cheese at Wal-Mart is appalling. images-2

Wal-Mart has apparently been accepted into more than just our vernacular as spell check just corrected me with hyphen placement.

We look like tyrannosaurus rex when we walk along the road texting with our little tiny arms.

My nearly four year-old is a yes-woman, flashing her smile at all the right times to attempt an early release from time-out.

My six year-old is perfecting well-aimed barbs in an attempt to make the world run her way.

My eight year-old is stuck between an attitudinous pre-teen limbo and a cuddly, sweet girl.

I’m taking the life of my already tenuous midsection into my own hands when I dare lie in savasana with a three year-old lurking.images-1

Namaste is not in a three, six, or eight year-olds vocabulary – at least not in its proper use.

It is near impossible to find board shorts with an inner liner.

Aloe is a wonder ‘drug’.

Fall is coming.  I can feel it in my bare shoulder peeking out from under the quilt in the morning.

You can still go to the playground in the rain if you stay under the trees or in the big wooden ark.

Whole-wheat o’s covered in honey are like crack to the playground set.

The amount of times I’ve been told to ‘not get old’, apparently it’s not advised.

Even if a story is wholly written in your head, it’s still not easy to get it down on paper.

Those plants with the pointy seedpods in my garden are butterfly weed. images

Firefly larva eat slugs, hunting them by their slime trail.

Even though I hate slugs, I still find that fact revolting.

A week, while packed with infinite moments, goes by in an infinitesimal flash.

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