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I Sprang from My Bed to See What Was the Matter, Then Had Some Time to Think

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I am not the sort of person who stays up until midnight on New Year’s Eve. And it’s not just because I have a four-and-a-half-year old. Even before procreating I was incapable of staying awake past 10pm. So Saturday night, we all stayed up until 9pm, midnight in New York, and we brought in 2012 by live streaming the ball drop. Only we missed it by a few seconds, so it was just a lot of people kissing and screaming.  And then off to bed.

At midnight pacific standard time, fireworks started going off nearby. Very nearby.  They were loud and clearly illegal. I lay there wondering how many fireworks they could possible have. As the minutes wore on, I imagined a teenager working an $8 and hour summer job, then, because he still lives with his parents and has no real bills to pay, taking the entire $4000 earned after taxes and spending it at a fireworks tent in the parking lot of Albertsons.

I rose and peeked out each window of my house, looking for the source.  Nora stayed sleeping, or my rage would surely have turned murderous. I returned to bed and while waiting for the cortisol to leave system so I could sleep, I began reviewing the New Year’s Resolutions that had been floating through my head.

I know some folks are against the very idea of New Year’s resolutions, but I feel this sort of calendar driven goal setting is a natural human endeavor. People like to think they can pack their problems in a box and pack them away with the holiday trimmings; we simply will ourselves to be a better people with the posting of a new calendar on the kitchen wall. And why not? Resetting intention is about realizing we are imperfect, but not giving up our quest to become our best selves.

So, in no particular order, I present my 2012 New Year’s Resolutions:

  • Blog with discipline. I’ve justified my recent absence by telling myself everyone is too busy with friends and family this time of year to read my little blog anyway, but the truth is I’m a better writer when I’m doing it all the time. This week, I’ll decide on a posting schedule and stick to it.
  • Carve out time for dates with Ben. We have let this slip, and that’s a mistake. We need the time to just be with each other without the pull of housework and personal projects.
  • Remember to give the dog some attention. He’s such a good dog. And he won’t be around forever.
  • Make exercise more routine, and more of it yoga. Exercise is instrumental in blood sugar management, and yoga boosts the stress relief factor.
  • Explore Buddhism. From what I know so far, Buddhism is about training your mind to prevent the suffering you bring upon yourself. Sounds good to me.
  • Query new magazines, not just my three old standbys. I’m getting too comfortable with the places I’ve been published so far, it’s time to go beyond my comfort zone.
  • Be a little more tidy. This one is for Ben, really. But wouldn’t it be nice if he made a counter resolution to be a little more tolerant of mess? We could meet in the middle sometime around June.
How do you feel about resolutions? Are you making any this year?

Kindergarten Yogi

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Somehow, Nora and I have fallen into the awfully good habit of doing a bit of yoga before bed. It may have started as a stalling tactic on her part, but it’s backfiring on her, because she’s been falling asleep much faster lately.

Lest you imagine the two of us locked in a synchronous Vinyasa flow, let me give you a glimpse of what our practice actually looks like.

“Mommy, we need to do our yoga.”

“Well, we’re running out of time, do you want to do yoga and skip story time?”

She nods vigorously.  We head to the living room and I light a candle and place it in the middle of the room then switch off the lamp.  I try to get her started with some breathing exercises and she cuts me off.

“Mommy, you showed me a lot of poses, so now I’m going to show you some, alright?”

She is seated cross legged and she places her hands on her ankles with her elbows pointing out and grimaces. Like a yogic body builder showing off her biceps.

“This is called ‘muscle pose.'”

Now she lets herself fall on her side and places an arm under her head and the other hand is curled on the floor in front of her. I follow along.

“Mommy, see how your hand is flat?  You need to curl your fingers so your bones strengthen. If you don’t curl your fingers your bones won’t strengthen.”

Still on her side, she stretches her arms and legs out at a 90-degree angle from her body.

“This is called ‘crinkled dog’ pose,” she calmly explains.  “And you know what else doggies do?  When they wake up, they do this –” she smacks her lips repeatedly, “–they do that because they’re trying to clean their lips. They got dirty from the carpet.”

I nod as I smack my lips, thinking that an imperfect yoga practice is the most beautiful thing that’s happened to me today.