seventh series? sounds about right.

Before I had children, I'm sure I echoed the platitudes about how difficult it is to be a parent, how much work it is, etc. Of course back then I had no idea what I was talking about. I was just parroting what other people said because intellectually it made good sense. Of course raising children is hard! Now that I am living the experience, however, I can honestly say I had no idea how hard it would be.

I'm not a patient gal by nature. Far from it. I like things to go my way and I'm not very accepting or serene when they don't. Like most people, I enjoy things like consistency and routine. On a more basic level, I enjoy sleeping through the night without interruption. For that matter, I enjoy being able to do anything for more than, like, one minute without interruption.

Since becoming a mom, I have none of these things. I am forced, as the cliche says, to go with the flow of the day. For example: last night my daughter was awake and screaming at 12, 4 and 6 am. By six thirty she is sleeping in my arms at the kitchen table, so after much cajoling, I manage to get her back in her crib by 7 am for at least an hour more of sleep. I come back downstairs to feed and water the dogs (who are whining at this point) when I discover, much to my chagrin, that one of them has had GI distress in the night, leaving two piles of emesis and two piles of poo scattered throughout the living room. (This is why we have hardwood floors without rugs and fleece blankets draped over the slipcovers which are draped over the couches). A lovely surprise.

The biggest bummer of all in my mind? My baby's inconsistent sleep schedule means that at least for the time being, I cannot practice at the shala during the week. I used to be able to get up at 4 am, get to the shala by 5, practice until 630 and be home by 7, when my husband would be getting up to go to work. Her propensity for waking up between the hours of 430 and 7 am mean that my husband has to be the one to soothe her back to sleep, and considering he puts in a full day seeing 60-70 patients or operating (unimaginably stressful, for anyone who thinks this doctor biz is an easy life)...I just can't do that to him. So until she's more consistently sleeping, it's Shala Sunday and that's it.

It's not a sacrifice unless what you're giving up really means something, right? I mean, I had no trouble giving up residency for this job, after all, my heart was here at home, not at the hospital. My practice and my time with my teacher and my friends, however, that's considerably harder for me to release. I know, I know, it's temporary, soon enough you'll have both babies sleeping well and before you know it they're in school and count your blessings and don't' wish your life away and...all true statements. But the child in me, the childless woman in me, the self I was before I was a mom, says BUT I WANT IT NOW WHAT ABOUT ME????

There. I said it. I'm not Mother Theresa over here. I'm just a 33 year old girl trying to come to terms with this whole other person I'm becoming. Yes, I'm growing. I'm learning the deeper, more elusive lessons of yoga. Non-attachment. Non-grasping. Devotion. Service. Selflessness. Fulfilling one's sacred duty. These are the real lessons of the practice, not holding my ankles in a backbend. This is what counts. 

These days won't last forever. She will grow up, kids always do. In the meantime, this little girl is making a woman out of me. Kids. Amazing. Just like they said.