Yoga Junkie

From time to time you read in the news about women who abandoned their children for crack or meth. If I ever leave mine, it will be for yoga. Mike was out of town for most of last month. When I organized some time for myself, I found myself booking sitters around yoga classes (I like Mark at Pretzel's Yoga.) Because when it came right down to it, I didn't need drinks or movies or girls dinners or trips to Target. I needed the plow position to keep me sane.

I did yoga religously for several years before kids. But we moved across town and I got pregnant and that was pretty much the death of my downward dog. But back in February I started going again. After an initial week or two of soreness, I've turned into a complete junkie again. When I do the plow position, I can actually feel all the little pebbles of stress in my upper back melting away. And not only does my body feel better, but my mind too.

When we were in Florida and I wasn't able to make it to class for a whole week, I could feel my body reverting back to it's old self. Shoulders hunched, one higher than the other, knots in between the blades. I felt like Quasimodo. And my patience was shot.

When we got off the plane I gave the kids back to Mike and drove over to Potrero Hill for my fix. And then I was tall again. Straight again. And calm again. And much more zen with my children.