Our fourth essay is from Kara Douglass Thom…

There are days like this.

Days that dissolve into an existence only within the confines of my house. These are the days of sick children. Despite appointments, obligations, errands, and engagements stacked high on today’s to-do list, it all ceases to exist.

All because someone barfed.

Because the vomiting children couldn’t go to preschool, I couldn’t go to yoga. That didn’t mean, however, that I could not do yoga. I figured, today, perhaps more than any other day, I needed yoga. I needed inner peace.

After untold loads of laundry and restructuring linens on beds; after cleaning stains on the carpet and wiping down the walls, I prepared for zen. I gave a bag of fruit snacks to the not yet barfing child (any mother can recognize this for the miracle it is), opened a juice box for the child in remission, and provided a blanket to the child still huddled in a ball on the couch. I popped “Little Mermaid” into the DVD player and retreated to the basement.

Shortly after Rodney Yee introduced himself, the child in remission descended into the basement to find me. Innocently, sweetly, quietly, she asked if she could do yoga with me.

“Of course, honey,” I said, my focus undeterred.

Ten minutes later I heard a small bottom thumping down the stairs.

“Mommy, I do yoga with you?” My 2-year-old burst into the basement, grabbing her bouncy ball and joining me on the rug, hopping in circles around my Sun Salutations.

Rodney Yee continued to direct my every move. Triangle. Elongate your chest. Warrior. Find strength in your back leg. Eagle. Focus your gaze through your fingers. Tree. Plant your foot firmly into the ground.

I was unwavering even when the child in remission told me I was doing side-angle pose wrong. Unwavering, even when my still sick child joined us downstairs, looking pitiful and sad. Unwavering as the dress-up clothes started flying across the room.

I made it to the final sequence of poses. Indeed, I would finish the whole workout. Some  light in my day. I had decided early on, even if I only finished 30 minutes of the tape, I would enter “Yoga” in my exercise journal for the day. This was more than I expected. I made something happen to keep the day from completely caving in on itself.

Ah Shivasana. I lay still on the floor, trying to center myself as Rodney encouraged me to escape. Listen to your breathing, he said. And I did, over the whimpering coming from the sofa above me. Let your body feel completely supported. Thank goodness it was because my not-even-a-little-bit-sick toddler landed on my chest for a hug. Relax your eyes deeply in their sockets.

But they flew open when a vision in aquamarine came flying toward me with a veil. “Put this on me,” the ballerina said.

Still. I was still. And I smiled. A mother can never entirely block out her surroundings. I’m not sure I would even want to. Feel your center, Rodney reminds me in those final moments on the floor. Namaste.

Kara Douglass Thom, 40, is a mom of four living in Savage, Minn. She writes about finding fitness in the chaos of motherhood on her blog, Mama Sweat.

This entry was posted on Thursday, February 26th, 2009 at 11:14 am and is filed under Guest Bloggers, Mother Words Essays. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.