Yoga Mama 30 Day Challenge

I turned 50 in December. As my nine year old daughter informed me, that officially made me the oldest mother at her school. I've gotten used to little kids assuming I was my kids' grandma, but to hear my own talk about how old I am in comparison to her friends' mothers, got me thinking I needed to start a serious stay young and on the planet program. So when my DH's siblings began asking me what I wanted for the big occassion, I passed on the maid (too much pressure), the massage and the other suggestions. I had heard about a new Bikram Yoga studio that had opened in Longmont that offered a $59 introductory unlimited month and a little voice inside my head said, "DO IT."

I didn't think I'd like the hot form of yoga and quite honestly, my only recent exposure to yoga had been while pregnant with my oldest and that was nine years ago. I'd always steered clear of hot yoga because it drummed up unpleasant olfactory memories of waiting for subways in 120 degree stations in NYC and that wasn't my idea of relaxation.

But you only turn 50 once, so I figured what did I have to lose? As it turns out, nothing and more than I imagined to gain. It's been two months and while I know it's pat to say this and I can see the eyes rolling as I write it, but yoga is changing my life. Besides my body returning to some sense of flexibility and strength that it hasn't known in more than a decade, the more I sweat, the more I learn about myself.

March 1st, I signed up for a 30 day challenge, not for any other reason than to see if I could do it. I can buy goodies at the studio at a discount if I complete the challenge, but I'm doing it for different reasons. I'm now 7 days into the challenge, 23 to go (and yes I'm counting) and I'll be posting my insights, frustrations and otherwise as a way to share this challenge.

Day 1: Took a deep breath and said, yes, I can.

Day 2: Took another deep breath and said yes I can again.

Day 3: Mistakenly decided I had passed into another realm, where the classes were getting 'easy.' Why did I decide this? Because somewhere between Day 2 and Day 3, my breathing went from out and out gasping to calm and I got really full of myself. I boasted to my family that I was entering a new place where the work would be internal, that the physical had been figured out.

Day 4: Kicked the shit out of me. All of it. Wibble wobbled and I then fell down.

Day 5: Kicked whatever shit day 4 didn't kick out of me out of me. Realized I don't have enough yoga clothes to make it through the week, let alone a 30 day challenge.

Day 6: Learned to laugh in Eagle pose when Zach said our next posture would be 'kickyourasana.'

Day 7: Battled with the entire cobra series and wondered if my lack of flexibility on the back side of my body had a deeper meaning.

Today is day eight and I'm six hours away from my class. Not sure what will be in store for me, except I know I'll feel better having done it. A great birthday gift.

Turning six and kissing frogs

Amazing the difference a year makes. One year ago we were recovering from what I didn't know was to be the last of the Boobies Princess Parties (sound the thundering APPLAUSE).


For the act of turning six, we purchased two tiny tree frogs from one of our two our local big box pet stores. Lots of discussions preceded the purchase, as we have all fallen madly in love with Dandelion, our 9 month old Russian tortoise who thinks he's actually from the Galapagos Islands. At least the volume of romaine lettuce and cauliflower he consumes daily would make us think so.


We went as a family over the weekend and the twins pulled themselves up onto a rolling ladder to peer into the terrarium to choose the frog of their choice. Since there were only two frogs and one anatole lizard, the process went pretty quickly. One frog was long, the other stubby. In they went inside what could have been used as a to-go container for soup, but had little holes poked in the top plastic lid. They held their containers gently with sweet smiles on their faces. The stubby one was to be called 'Yahtzee,' probably more for the tone of it than the idea of our family sitting around on family game night playing the game. I did buy Yahtzee a couple of months ago, thinking we would lapse into my childhood, but the first attempt at playing it ended with lots of screaming about the twins being too young to understand the 'rules' and subsequent door-slamming. But the name of the game stuck in one of the twins heads as the perfect name for a frog and so it was - Yahtzee it was too be. The other twin had a more difficult time deciding on the perfect name for her frog. Froggy, Freddy, Cutie Pie, Leapy, Hoppy - all of them were bandied about, but after 30 seconds, the answer was, "I'm still deciding." So be it.

We also purchased some moss, a fake plastic leavy thing and $2 worth of small live crickets, much to the disgust and dismay of our oldest DD, who sighed with relief that Dandelion is an herbivore. FYI - $2 worth of small live crickets roughly comes out to about 20 of the little chirpers, a bargain by any means.


Once home, we set up the all-in-one terrarium they would share and in they went. And up they went right up to their prospective corners, where they proceeded to stay until they both went underground, burying themselves under two inches of substrate material. At least the crickets were active. And at least the terrarium is sound-proof.

Yesterday I panicked and made DH, a bonafide frog expert from his childhood days spent playing on a golf course as his backyard in Miami Beach, to find out if the frogs were still alive. I had spotted the one to be named, but Yahtzee was no where to be seen. This also coincided with it being the twins' actual birthday and I was beside myself at the thought her newly named frog would no longer be alive. I tenderly dug through the substrate, hoping to prod it out of its hiding, remembering that Dandelion buried himself for about a week before he settled into our family.


So DH did his fatherly duty and dug around and YAHTZEE is alive! I have never been so happy to see a small green being in my entire life. I about burst into tears! We all ran into the room and rejoiced, doing a little Yahtzee dance.


For those of you who are wondering what I mean by fatherly duty - in our house that includes cleaning up the cat litter, which was started for obvious health reasons while I was pregnant and which thankfully continues to date. It also includes taking the dog for a walk at night, going into the crawl space and digging up potentially dead frogs just purchased for DD's birthdays.




When I told my normally open-minded mother about the frogs, she reacted so violently that it almost shook the very nature of my being. "Frogs? Disgusting!" I then remembered her growing up in South Africa and frightening tales of locust storms, and that maybe droves of frogs dropped out of the sky as well, like in the film "Magnolia," but it was early for Passover, so I took a deep breath and said, "Disgusting? They're only little tree frogs. What's so bad about that?"






"Where will they live?" she quipped.

"In a terrarium."

"But won't they get out?"

"We'll have a top on it, like we do with Dandelion."

"But that's inhumane!" She shrieked. "Frogs are born to leap."

I waited a long time to answer her. Was my mother some secret agent for PETA? When did she care so much about frogs?

"They're tree frogs, mom. They live in trees. I don't think we will be harming them by keeping a top on the container."

"Oh, well," she sniffed back at me. "I'm sure you know best."

I couldn't believe it. My mother was advocating for free leaping and I had suddenly turned into some heartless frog colonizer. What was happening here - it was like some 1960s hallucination gone bad.

"They were only $10 a piece. The tortoises would set us back $170 if we got them both their own."

Ah, the wonderful voice of reason. That bit of financial news calmed her down and she congratulated me on making a very sound financial choice and then proceeded to lecture me about spending so much on Dandelion. No winning with this long distance call. She then continued to tell me that when she was in high school that a boyfriend used to call her "froggy." I didn't have the nerve to ask her why.

To end on an upbeat note, I am happy to report that the frog formerly known as question mark is now been given the fine name of "Max," or "Maxi." Yes, it is quite possible that the longer, leaner, larger frog of the two is in fact a female. DH has assured me no little Maxis and Yahtzees will come out of this union because frog eggs need water in which to thrive and the teeny water dish that came with the container will not suffice. Time will tell. In the meantime, I just hope that Max/Maxi finds Yahtzee to be the prince of her dreams.

Last day of 2007 and Turning 49

I turned 49 years old two days ago. For my birthday, I was treated to a gluten and wheat-free breakfast in bed, presents from my three DDs and DH that include a shiny red Seattle's Best Coffee travel mug, a Denver Nuggets basketball cap, a Colorado Rockies National League Championship sweatshirt and my own copy of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. 

The Nuggets cap was a true act of transformation because prior to my birthday, the giver of the cap, one of our twins, refused to acknowledge that the Denver Nuggets even existed, out of some amazing loyalty to the Rockies. Go figure. 

The sweatshirt had to be returned because it was too small and that led to a drama of its own since Sports Authority didn't have any that fit me and I had to exchange the too small one for a pink Colorado Rockies sports fleece. A year ago this would have been the most wonderful thing in the world, but now that we are in our post-Pink stage, the replacement was met with lots of tears, but finally accepted because Mama really really likes it!

I cannot say enough about how much I love Eat Pray Love. I had borrowed a friend's copy and promptly devoured it, getting lost in the winding streets of Rome, breathing through the Ashram in India and falling in love with EG's Brazilian lover in Bali and truthfully, I thought about dropping it in the bathtub or worse, the toilet, in order to not have to return it. But my dear friend is a writer, a traveler and a really good person, so I decided to not take on that literary karma and sadly returned it. If you haven't read it, do so immediately. 

My coffee mug - chosen by my oldest DH - is a deep cherry red and will always be filled with something caffeinated (except if it has bubbles). 

To top it off, I still get flowers every birthday from my parents - how gorgeous is that? 

As for turning 49, what can I say? It's a splendid place to be. 

P.S. Above photo is me on a sled going down a hill really fast. Happy New Year from Colorado!