Woman

My good friend, the Incredible Exploding Head, just wrote a great piece about being a Woman. Mostly having to do with being a Mother vs. Not. She got me thinking about my own mother-ness.

I had a rough day. I’ve had a rough series of days. I shouldn’t: I have a sweet, funny baby who is very easy going, a devoted and kind husband, a comfortable home, some interesting work. Even friends. In town. Nearby!

But I have very little time that is my own. Which I expected when I decided to have a baby. But I didn’t realize how intense it would be to be needed all the time.

I think of myself as an introvert and an extrovert. I usually feel shy, not quite knowing what to say, but at the same time, wanting to be with people. I used to (wait, I still do) work/write at a cafe, not in my home office (what home office – ha!). I like taking classes. I like sitting in audiences. I don’t really like talking in front of people (acting is different…).

The introvert part of me needs alone time to reboot. A 7 minute shower every morning isn’t enough.

Most people don’t talk about this part of being a mother. The part where you stop being you.

I keep thinking to myself, when Abraham goes to school, I will practice yoga for real. I will start a theatre company. I will read books quickly. I will be me again.

This is a terrible approach. I am me. I am the same person who wanted to have a baby in the first place. If I put myself on the shelf (sorry for that rhyme), how can I be a good mother, dare I say my ideal mother, for Abraham? How can I be a good wife, step mother, friend, anything? Much less artist, teacher, leader…

I feel terrible every time I leave Abraham with a babysitter or even David, because I love leaving. I love going to the coffee shop with my laptop and writing. I love going to the yoga studio and teaching. I love meeting my friend for lunch and brainstorming theatre ideas for the company we want to get off the ground.

Which is not to say that I don’t love being with him. I do. I do so much. I love watching him discover the world. I love that when he cries a little, it shocks me because I think of him as a person not really a baby. I love watching him eat, sleep, poop, laugh, read…everything. But I love it most when I feel most like myself. Which is when I spend some time taking care of my, not him, not David, not anyone else.

I wish I could do both and not feel bad about either.

So, like the Head, who got my brain going in the first place (Head, you are so good at that. I miss you!),  I want to make the next part of my like pretty fucking cool. In Reading, PA.

I’ve got to figure out how to start.

Safety

I’m in a bit of a bind.

I don’t know who reads this and how much I really want to say (I realize how annoying that is and I’m sorry), but I need to process a bit.

Here’s the thing. We’re Jewish (which you probably know) and belong to a congregation here in Reading. It has recently come to my attention that a non-Jew (who is married to a non-Jew) has joined the congregation and joined a committee that I also just joined. This person has threatened and bullied me and my family in the past and I do not feel safe. I would like to leave said congregation. And, of course, the committee.

This person is not the only reason, but more the carrot that tipped the scale. I prefer to practice Judaism in a different way that is practiced at this congregation. I want to raise my child in a different way. The people (otherwise) are lovely and the Rabbi is really wonderful. But this is my faith and my spiritual practice. I should like going and praying there, right? And I should feel safe.

The problem is, I don’t want to let the bully win. I want to be indifferent; this is what yoga teaches, to be indifferent toward vice. I don’t know what Judaism teaches. Note taken.

Perhaps I will speak to both Rabbis of both congregations in town to see what Judaism suggests I do. Am I prejudiced for not wanting a non-Jew in the congregation? Am I caving to a bully? Am I just doing what is best for me and my family by leaving? What would you do?

Sigh. Growing up kind of sucks sometimes.

UPDATE: With encouragement from my husband, I have decided to push through and stay. Two main reasons I am ok with this: First World Problems and Impermanence.

David recently showed me a video, a rap song called First World Problems. It is hilarious and a good reminder that people are dealing with real, life and death problems. This is not that (I hope).

AND, my yoga teacher once said (in response to me saying i wasn’t sleeping well due to having a tiny baby) “Impermanence, baby” and I think that rings true here. It is true with Abraham, who is growing up faster than I could have imagined. With this charming person (you can’t tell sarcasm on a blog, can you…?), it will pass. Someone will move on, perhaps the relationship will change for the better. Nothing is permanent.

 

Eating is Yoga

So much of Abraham’s life has been so easy. He is adorable, happy, healthy, easy-going…I could go on. And I have found being a mother (not just a step-mother) to be quite easy too. I’m a little sleepy and a little slobbered-on, but I really can’t complain.

I keep rubbing up against his eating. I’ve written before about breast feeding him. I am still breastfeed him, and I intend to as long as he wants to (the WHO recommends 2 years!). We also give him bottles as a supplement, 8 or 10 ounces a day. I hate it. Every time I give him a bottle, I feel like I’m failing as a mother. Because I WANT to nurse him and I CAN’T. Because in 2003, I choose to have a breast reduction. It was badly needed and I don’t actually regret it. I just wish I could have both small boobs and milky boobs.

We went to the pediatrician today and Abraham is still small. Gaining weight and height, but a little too slowly. So more formula for him and solid food.

The food I’m excited about. He wants to eat – he sits on my lap at dinner and lunges toward the tables, reaches for my water glass, and of course puts everything, edible or not, into his mouth. I even shared my banana with him last night – he sort of licked it a while, then tried to suck. He yelped when it was finished.

He yelps when his bottles are finished too. He is hungry (how ironic that he is wearing his Very Hungry Caterpillar outfit today…”but he was still hungry”). He isn’t starving, but he wants more. And it is so hard for me to give it to him. Because every bottle feels like a failure.

I run to him when he cries from a nap, I kiss his tummy to make him laugh, I work so hard to give him a happy and comfortable life. Why can’t I enjoy feeding him a bottle?

David said to me, on our way home from the pediatrician’s office, “it doesn’t seem very yogic to not feed him” and I know it isn’t. It is selfish, it is my ego wrapped up in my identity as a breastfeed-er. I have met most of my mom friends at La Leche League for goodness sake.

I can still be a breastfeed-er and give my child a bottle or 3 to make sure he grows well. He will get the health benefits from breastmilk and breastfeeding and the caloric benefits from formula. I can snuggle him as he drinks his bottle and snap photos when he holds it himself.

How is this practicing yoga, you ask? Yoga is defined several times in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. My favorite sutra (literally thread, a piece of an idea) of late is 1.12: Abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah – The mind is stilled by practice and dispassion.

Parenting, like yoga, is a practice. It is done uninterruptedly, with devotion, over a long time (sutra 1.14). My goal as a parent, especially to Abraham (versus the big kids where I am a secondary parent as their step-mom), is to be completely present for him and give him what he needs but then step back and let him fly. Giving him bottles is part of that.

And now I will wipe the tears out of my eyes and get a bottle ready for when he wakes up from his nap (to give him after he nurses of course).

so proud of his hand-to-mouth dexterity

ADDITION: Friends, don’t worry. I may feel like a failure of a mother inside, but I know he will be ok and I will be ok. It is a feeling and only a feeling. I appreciate your kind, private words of encouragement.

Shorts

I hate wearing shorts. I like the idea, but I am self conscious about my thighs.

Also, I haven’t shaved my legs since October.

But I’m wearing my husbands boxer briefs as shorts this morning, and I can’t tell you how comfortable they are. Perhaps because they remind me of him? Perhaps because men’s clothes are better than women’s?

But it is probably inappropriate for me to wear them in public, right? Even to teach yoga? Because at the end of the day, I’m wearing underwear over my underwear.

not my actual ass

High School Again

I just finished reading Sweet Valley Confidential, the ten-years-later book about the famous identical twins, Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield. I read the Twins, High, and University books as a tween and teen, so obviously I had to read the adult version.

I loved it for the memories it brought up. It is not a great piece of literature, but it isn’t supposed to be. It was just what I needed to read to get me back to reading.

Reading it of course brought me back a decade or so, and reading about their drama makes me remember mine. And makes me so glad that I am not in high school anymore. I loved high school – I learned a lot, I had great friends, I did lots of theatre and dance – but I hated all the drama.

And then I found myself facing a little high-school-esque drama today. Or was my imagination clouded by the memories brought up by this book…?

I have been teaching a yoga class for post-natal moms. Babies too, though they mostly lie around or nurse. But the moms can come and do basic yoga and if the babies cry or need to nurse, it is no big deal. Ah, so nice.

But some of my students reminded me of the girls in high school who I always felt didn’t like me. I don’t want to assume, so I will own the feeling. Something about the way these students treated me, talking during class, taking photographs of their babies (who were totally adorable and photo-worthy), coming late…it was weird.

I am super sensitive. They were probably not being intentionally rude to me. But wow, I felt like I was back in high school. I never know what to do in those situations, so  I do nothing. Doesn’t seem to help.

I overheard them telling another student that they aren’t taking the class during the next series. And I felt relief.

In high school I would have felt so sad, for it would have been a sure sign that they hated me. Now, I don’t care, and I’m glad to feel confident in my own class.

But still, I hate that I can let other people get me down.

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How am I writing this posting at 9pm? Abraham is sleeping alone and David is on his way home from work.

Post-Poop Happiness

 

Oh My Gods

I got to practice yoga. I felt like myself again.

David held the napping baby, and at first I ran around, eating and cleaning up. Then I remembered…me time. I have who-knows-how-long to do whatever-I-want. David, the best husband in the world, can get me food and tidy the kitchen. What can I do for myself that he can’t? YOGA!

I brought my bolster and other props to the living room to be near my guys. I did a short but glorious pranayama practice – I breathed my way back to myself.

Abraham woke up right as I finished, and as I nursed him, I sent a message to my yoga teacher to tell her I was back! Her response:

Tada drastuh svarupe ‘vasthanam
Then (once the mind becomes still) the seer abides in it’s true nature.
-Patanjali, the Yoga Sutras, chapter 1, v.3

Yoga brings me closer to my Self (capital intentional). Being a mother brings me closer to my Self too. My job now is to find a way to practice yoga and motherhood.

Which reminds me of another sutra:

abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah

Practice and detachment are the 2 pillars of yoga. I think they might also be pillars of parenthood – work hard, do the best you can, and then let it go.

I keep thinking about this sutra in a big sense – I have not been able to practice in a while due to the birth of my dear child. I have been trying to detach from my own practice – not in the sense of letting go of it altogether but just letting go of the dependency. I’m still Me whether I practice yoga today or this week or this month. At this point, the yoga is in me, waiting patiently.

 

Criticism

I have always loved appropriate criticism.

If I don’t get notes at the end of a run through of a play, I worry that what I was doing in rehearsal was so boring the director couldn’t be bothered to watch, much less offer feedback.

If I don’t get corrections in a yoga class, I worry that my poses were so awful that the teacher couldn’t even deal with correcting me without the risk of holding back the whole class.

These are not worries that cause real anxiety or stress, but worries that make me work harder and in more interesting ways (I think) in the hopes of getting criticism so that I can move forward more.

I do not like being humiliated, bullied, or catching opinions about my opinions.

Iyengar yoga, the method I practice, is known for its teaching style and for giving feedback. Some students HATE this style of yoga. After being a bit of a yoga slut (practicing several different kinds of yoga), I went to one Iyengar class and I haven’t looked back.

I want to be able to recognize my own weaknesses and work on them (note: this is different from being welcoming to constant criticism of the details of my personality and heartfelt opinions). I really credit Iyengar yoga for making that make sense to me.

 

Updates

Not actually MY brain

I have several different categories that I like to write about: arts and theatre, my family, being pregnant, yoga, and personal things. Here is a general update of what’s going on in my brain these days:

1. Arts in Education – I read a great article in American Theatre Magazine about creating theatre with and for autistic students. Using theatre for its therapeutic values: building verbal and non-verbal communication skills and increasing abilities to work together. I have done this kind of work before, with autistic students as well as students with a variety of emotional issues. It is amazing to see the rapid changes in these students when they connect with the material and each other.
2. Family – My mom moved back to Florida. She had moved to PA to be close to us and the baby, but things didn’t work out according to plan. My sister and I drove down with her, stopping in North Carolina very briefly to see an Aunt and Uncle in Winston-Salem and and Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin in Charlotte. Then we continued on to Pensacola where we saw Dad and Brother, more Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins,  one Bubby, and a few friends. I was sad for my mom thather plans fell through up here, but it was nice to have a reason to see my family. I hadn’t been back to Pensacola since August of last year.
3. Myself – It is hard to separate myself from all that is going on with everything and everyone else. I have become impatient. I don’t like this, and I keep thinking since I’m aware of it, I should be able to master it, but I can’t. Yet.
4. Pregnant – He is moving more, but not kicking. I feel him pressing against my abdominal wall or spine or bladder (usually when no bathroom is in sight!). At the midwife’s office yesterday, I received a packing list for having the baby. My favorite thing on the list is juice – I love juice and if labor is an excuse to drink an over abundance, bring it on.
5. Theatre – I’ve been catching up on old American Theatre magazines (who has time for magazines of substance unless on an airplane?!). I read about theatre festivals going on all over the world; one that particularly caught my interest is in Germany and for children. No child actors, lots of mature material but in a kid-appropriate way. I want to go to there. I’ve been thinking about this play for children that I have a grant to write in 2011. I want the topic to be something mature and thoughtful and provocative, but of course for young people. I’m currently thinking of time. Big topic, but lots of possibility. And it will make David happy because it is science.
6. Yoga – My practice has changed so much. The weirdest thing is that I’ve gotten away from studying the yoga sutras. That is something I can continue even while I’m in labor (though I don’t know I’ll really be able to concentrate), but for some reason, I have stopped reading and thinking about them. Some svadyaya (self-study) may help reveal why and guide me back to the books.

What are YOU thinking about?

Practicing Practicing Yoga

It’s not a typo.

In yoga, we say we are practitioners. The Sanskrit word I like to use is Sadhaka, which is more like a dedicated-to-the-path-of-yoga-practitioner-and-devoted-student, but that obviously doesn’t translate simply into English.

My practice has changed so much in the past few months, which was to be expected. It was one thing I was really looking forward to about being pregnant (yoga practice, interesting. back pain, lack of sleep, excessive burping, less interesting).

At 7 months pregnant (29.5 weeks, but who’s counting), I feel like I have to learn how to practice yoga all over again. Which is humbling. And challenging.

We all have different labels we wear all day, and in yoga class, it isn’t always different. I was “flexible” and “a back-bender.” Those and many other identifying aspects of my practice are gone now. I’ve been a “pranayama-practitioner” and a “restorative pose lover” by my own labeling.

It turns out these are both things I needed in my practice. I have grown to love and depend on pranayama, as I’ve written about before. The art and skill of lying or sitting and just breathing is a huge challenge for me, as movement-y as I like to be. But I feel how much better my day goes if I spend the 30 minutes in the morning doing it.

And, for similar reasons, it was always difficult for me to practice restorative poses on my own. It feels so indulgent to lie around in yoga poses and rest. Isn’t that what sleeping is for?! But it turns out to be a very different kind of rest, one that I know I’ll need when Raspberry is born and as he (and the other kids) grow up.

In a few months, it will be time to move on to the post-natal practice, which means serious abdominal work and strength building to get myself back to “my practice.” My challenge to myself: Learn how to practice both of “my” practices and reap the benefits of both.

photo/photoshop credit: Emma Chong

Quiet Morning

I’m in favor of routines vs schedules. Schedules are too difficult to keep when other people are involved and routines provide both structure and freedom, which I strongly believe go hand in hand.

This morning, I decided to sleep in all the way until 7:15. I showered and got the kids ready for school and David ready for work. And they all helped each other which is always nice.

Then at 8:25 they all left and I began my morning routine of pranayama, yoga, preparing for the day, catching up on email/work. If I had had a schedule, my whole day would be ruined because I couldn’t have kept up. Instead, with my routine, I was able to help the fam when they needed it and have me time when they left for their days.

How all of this will change when Raspberry is born, I can’t even imagine. I bet I’ll still be able to find 30 minutes to do pranayama every day. Or at least, nap.