Savasana is for corpses… or just not for mothers

It’s barely 7 o’clock in the morning, but we’ve been up for 2 hours, when I decide on my yoga practice for the day and pull up a Youtube video.

The first 50 minutes are great.  I bend and twist and cardio-interval with the best of them.  Sure, I fall on my face with the arm balances, but I get back up, and as long as I keep moving my toddler tries to mimic me, not squash me. Aside from a few painfully weighted planks, it’s a pretty good practice.

By the time the Youtube video instructor indicates that it’s time for Savasana, I’m relieved, but the relief is short lived.  No sooner have I settled back, straightened out my back and started to focus on ‘quieting my mind and lowering my inner ear’ then the inner monologue starts up.  Oh yeah.  THIS is why I don’t enjoy savasana…

Oh there goes the baby.  That clicky-scratchy sound means he’s found his way to the hardwood which means he’s headed to the foyer.  I wonder if there are leaves on the floor.  He’s going to eat the leaves, isn’t he?  Ugh, I have to go get him.  No, no… don’t sit up.  Quiet your mind.  Maybe he’ll turn around.  Hey, you could tell Sophia to go get him.  HA! he’d be better off eating leaves, by the time she finished log-rolling him back over here.  Poor baby.  Poor Sophia.  She tries so hard.  Oh crap.  He really is in the entry way.  Dang it.  I wonder if he’ll choke on a leaf.  I’d better go get him.  

I do a baby retrieval and savasana replacement at lightening speed.

If I was up for less than 30 seconds, it doesn’t count.  Wow, my heart rate’s back up there.  Wonder if that counts for cardio.  Okay, what’s she saying now?  Breathe.  In out.  Sure, this is easy.  I love this pose.  I could fall asleeeee…

“Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?”

Wispy tendrils of hair are tickling my face, but I try to keep my eyes closed and my limbs relaxed.

“Let your elbows and arms melt into the floor,” the yoga instructor says.  “Feel all the tension release from your abs.”

That would be nice.  Right now all the air is releasing from my lungs as a 35 pound child plunks herself down on my chest to continue the Mommy refrain.

“Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Are you sleeping, mommy?”

“No, Sophia.  Mommy’s doing yoga.”

“Doing yoga, Mommy?  Doing yoga?”

“Trying to, baby.  Will you please get off my belly?  I’m supposed to be melting butter, not squashed marshmallow.”

“Munchmellows, mommy?  Munchmellows YES!”

I should really ponder her meaning there, but the weight has lifted (literally) from my chest and I get back to melting.

The yoga instructor is saying something about inner ears melting.

How the heck am I supposed to melt my inner ears? I can’t even feel my inner ears.  I’m thinking about my inner ears now though.  That counts, right?  Oops, holding my breath.  Okay, back to melting.  No more inner ears.  That idea is stressing me out.  Shoulders melting into the ground, that I can do.  Wow, that’s really relaxing.  It’s almost quiet in here too… oh no.  What’s she doing?  It’s never good when she’s quiet.  Why did she get off my chest again?  Where’s the baby?  Sorry, yoga-lady, I’ll get back to melting my inner ears and looking at the middle of my forehead with my eyes closed in a minute.  This is way more relaxing in the movies.  

I hazard a glance around the room.  K-man is chewing on a big duplo block.  That’s cool.  I can live with that.  Maybe he’s actually going to cut a tooth sometime soon.

No sooner have I settled back into the elusive corpse pose when the weight is back.

“Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Are you sleeping, mommy?”

I squeeze my eyes closed against those ticklish ends of toddler hair and ignore the distinct marshmallowy odor of her breath.

Why did she get marshmallows?  Oh yeah, I said that about being squished like one.  She took it as an invitation. Oh well. I’m just going to ignore that.  She already swallowed them anyways.  Marshmallows before 8 am.  I’m a horrible mother.  Seriously though, what am I supposed to do?  At this point all I can do is lecture and we all know how much impact that will have.  It’s this stupid savasana’s fault.  Relaxing is supposed to be soooo great for moms, and savasana is supposed to be relaxing.  Why am I not relaxing?  Breathing… melting….  This ain’t relaxing.  She’s going to be having a keg party on the back patio before I’m done with this.  Or feeding her baby brother marshmallows.  Oh gosh.  That’s worse than leaves, I think.  At least leaves are natural.  I wonder how much crap is in those marshmallows.  I should probably stop buying them.  Oh yeah, supposed to be relaxing.  How long has this savasana been going on?  Aren’t we done yet?  

I open my eyes to see Sophiapea 2 inches away from my face staring down at me. “Sleepy, mommy?”

“Stalker, Sofi?”

There are ten minutes left in the savasana.  That’s when I give up.

Savasana is for corpses.  Or at the very least, just people who don’t have children at home with them.