Sit. Breathe. Recite mantra. Move with intention and gratitude. Sometimes I make it and sometimes they are lurking in the nearby pillows waiting to pounce on my ounce of me time. Awake, they want something. They wait while mama finishes. They squirm, sometimes join me, sometimes whine, sometimes chant, their faces aglow in the light of the candle as they pick at it and then spill wax on the new hardwood floor.
This pre-dawn, only occasionally pre-awake children time is what I fight for. I fight with my inner call to serve them from the first second, I fight with the demands of the iPhone and all its titillating distractions that seem oh, so important, I fight with the bed that wants to cuddle me, but to step into that space before anything else is the way in which I survive with some semblance of equanimity.
So as a frequently traveling yoga teacher and a single mama of two girls, here goes. If I “do” anything to keep those two things in some kind of unwieldy balance, this is what it might look like:
See above paragraphs.
I attempt to keep my ears open and really hear what is going on within and without. I attempt, against much human conditioning, to stay interested in who these little people are and how we’re connecting along this winding familial yet individuated journey.
I look to find my feet on the ground and find ways, any ways to stay grounded in the midst of the push and pull.