Two Minute Baby Meditation

I am trying to give myself at least two minutes every morning, first thing, even before I get out of bed, to revel in quiet and empty space. So far so good.

Last Monday nightI attended my parenting guru, Carrie Contey's, workshop on parenting a four year old. Since that is what I will have in a few months. Right now he is still decidedly THREE. But all of the wisdom I absorbed last night must have been of great comfort to me; I was at the very end of my tether yesterday, completely depleted, flat-ly depressed, and hormonally bereft. I had nothing left. I was running on empty. My battery had drained. I was a shell, a husk of a woman. A mere shadow of my former self.

I was tiiiiiired.

So tired.

And just being around other parents who are also dealing with biting, screaming, kicking, adorable little people, all of whom are trying so hard to Parent for a Peaceful World, was balm for my soul. I know for sure we are not meant to parent in a vacuum. Nor are we meant to parent among judgmental a-holes, but it happens. Usually the biggest judgey-a-hole of my parenting is myself. At least it's obvious when others are doing it to me, and I can easily and righteously be properly outraged. When it's myself, well, I have every right to skewer my  horrible parenting skills (or lack thereof) and I know, while no one else does, that deep down inside I am a cruel, lazy, selfish chicken poop of a mommy.

Sheesh.

So much of my Yoga Work has been to lovingly and thoroughly, systematically at times, embrace all the parts of my self. It's easy to embrace the smart, slender, hilarious parts. It's harder to embrace the chunky, angry, petty parts of my self. But those irritants are my best teachers, the rough edges that keep me interested and involved.

Speaking of irritants, I really struggle when we are around other parents, the types who are still doing it "the old way," and not in the Slow Family Living way. And when I'm tired, which is often but not always, I struggle. Period.

So at some point during Carrie's presentation, I told of a weekend incident in which I, against my intuition, took my son to the swimming pool "for his own good." Even though I was already feeling vulnerable, angry with my husband (who was in a kung fu workshop all weekend), and deeply tired and resentful of _____ (you name it), I went. Even though I felt fat. Weird. Out of sync. And lo and behold, all of my worst fears about my child's behavior (He's too clingy! Autistic!) (He doesn't understand boundaries! SPD!) (He'll never have any friends! He doesn't see that they don't want him here!) (He won't share! He's a serial killer with no empathy! And look! He's hitting and splashing someone! He's a Bad Seed!) played out. I was MISERABLE. And the other parents, who seemed kind enough, just triggered me with their behavior (They are so much younger and more fit than I am! They must be wondering what such an old-looking mom is doing with a young boy!) including continuously calling him "Brody" instead of "Bodhi" (Do I correct them? They'll think it's a weird name and ostracize us! Why did I give him such a hippie name? What's wrong with me? Does he know that's a socially unacceptable name? That it brands him and his parents as weirdos, as worthy of scorn, as LIBERAL NEW AGERS or worse, TREND-FOLLOWERS?) OH WOE. IS ME. Why didn't I just name him Jack?

Ugh. Well. The moral to the story, as Carrie gently pointed out to me when I brought it up during the workshop, is that SELF CARE COMES FIRST. She reminded me/us that perhaps I shouldn't have put myself and therefore the two of us in that vulnerable situation when I was feeling desperate before we even left. That his "acting out" was his effort to maybe get energy from another source, since he wasn't going to be getting it from me. And yes, there is a fine line between honoring the self and getting out of the house and getting transformed by it, AND in wallowing in self pity, and in pushing yourself when you're already depleted. So I guess I'm not done learning that lesson yet.

Thus enters the Two Minute Baby Meditation.

Every morning, before I check my iPhone, I remember to breathe and create space for two minutes. Before the storm. And I do it sitting up if I can, though lying down with it is just fine. It's becoming habit, which I know means I am accumulating prana, and conserving energy. It is changing my life, dare I say.

I know, it's not a week-long silent meditation retreat. Not in chronological time, anyway. In the big scheme of things, in the eternal flow of time, it is. Every day. So when I give myself that much space in a day, the old junk clears out, and there is room for new insight and clarity.

There is so much to be said for this, for any practice at all.