I didn't apologize to Jake's grandmother for taking him to school today. This is a sign, I believe, of progress.
An awful lot of what I've done as a mother is apologize -- for decisions I've made as a mother (sure, everyone tells you you're right because you're the mom, but do you ever really believe it?), for seeing to my own needs (the better I get at this the more I seem to apologize for it), for not taking care of everyone else nearly as well as I might have once upon a childless time. And, like pretty much every other mother I know, I've done all this apologizing with about the same stealth as a teenage boy copping a feel. And probably the same level of enthusiasm.
Progress, of course, comes in small increments. If I'm being completely honest, I do still feel the urge to apologize to my mother-in-law for not apologizing to her. I imagine her observing how Jake got to stay home from school yesterday, when his aunt and cousin were in town as well, and feeling stiffed. In my mind she becomes someone very different from who she really is, and turns to me with a crafty gleam in her eye saying, "I can watch him while you work, you know."
Then I practice being in the moment and I see how happily she walks him to school with me and how uncomplainingly she spreads out the newspaper for a bit of quiet time when we get back to the house. And I feel gratitude to us both for helping me learn not to apologize. And, yes, not to apologize for not apologizing.
Apology-Free Motherhood
The daycare thing is so fraught as it is -- even though it is an inevitable decision for most of us who can't afford to do it any other way.
In the days when I was still foolish enough to make pronouncements about how I would raise my child without realizing that he and life would have something to say about it, I decided that I wouldn't send Jake to daycare until he could walk. I can't say why walking seemed so significant to me. At the time he wasn't even crawling, and I suppose his lack of mobility convinced me that without one-on-one care he would languish, forgotten, in a corner somewhere, his eyes gradually clouding over with neglect.
Just for the record, he's been going since he was ten months old and just getting the hang of crawling.
Talk about getting twisted in knots. Even now, when Jake loves school so much he waves me out of the building with a cheery "Goodbye, I'm going to play now," (that's what he means; I understand he does not actually say it) I leave with a residue of guilt. How can I possibly prefer having some quiet time to write to playing with my child? Why do I never manage to make it there by 4:30, his documented breakdown time? It's unabashedly about me, this guilt, but it's how my love manifests itself, and I'm pretty convinced it's part of every mother's life.
Now, add to the guilt over sending my child to daycare a dollop of guilt on top over denying my mother-in-law precious time with her grandchild. ("A large dollop," my niece said last night as I asked her how much whipped cream she wanted with her key lime pie.)
To be fair, I'm planning on picking Jake up early tomorrow and not taking him at all on Monday, her last day in town. Still, a certain amount of panic tip-toed through my veins this morning when my brother-in-law -- with whom she stayed last night -- called to say she was on her way here.
"Wait!" I wanted to cry. I thought this was my day to work and go to yoga class and take Jake to school guilt free.
Well -- all mind-generated, panicked evidence to the contrary -- it is. We had breakfast and sent my sister-in-law and niece on their way back to West Virginia and walked Jake to school. It would have been easier on me if Jake hadn't made it seem like I was lying when I told his grandmother he no longer cries when I leave him, but he did have a pretty awesome time with his family yesterday and you can't blame a guy for failing to understand that we weren't all planning on having another party today without him.
The only problem was my urge to apologize for not apologizing. It did that thing to my brain where I could not for the life of me think of anything to talk about on the walk back home. Because I was trying too hard to think of something to talk about and all that was coming to mind were justifications for my decision to send Jake to school today.
So we walked home pushing an empty stroller to the sound of birds calling out their welcome to spring.
It was when my mother-in-law was helping me unload the dishwasher that I realized all she expects me to do is live my life and make her a part of it. She doesn't expect an apology. And, when you stop to think about it, very rarely does anyone else we think wants us to apologize for something we don't think we should apologize for (but kind of worry that maybe we should). I just don't think most of the people I know care that deeply about what I do that they think I have to explain it to them one way or another.
Goals, Expectations, and Intentions
An asana practice is fundamentally built around the understanding that we should replace our goals with intentions. As an illustration, a goal is losing 15 pounds in time to put on a bikini this summer; an intention is taking care of one's body, eating healthy food, and exercising so when the time comes to go to the beach you can put on whatever feels comfortable. Which, if you stay true to your intention, may very well be that bikini, collapsed mommy bellybutton and all.
Expectations can come only from goals. If I set a goal of losing a certain amount of weight (even if it might turn out along the way that I don't need to lose that much -- or any -- at all), I pretty much expect myself to do it. Or, worse, expect myself to fail. Either way, I'm going to have this expectation looming over me and weighing me down (so to speak).
And there, on the next beach towel over, is the woman who set an intention instead of a goal and hasn't failed to meet any expectations because she never had any. Or, when she realized that she actually did have certain expectations -- because, come on, this is a pretty fraught analogy -- she let them go. Most of us feel plenty bad in a bikini as it is, without heaping failed expectations on ourselves as well.
So let's firmly push away the idea of having to wear a bikini and return to the matter at hand. With goals come expectations.
But it gets even more insidious. Because when I start to form my goals around other people, I assume expectations for them without so much as a quick consultation to see if the thought that I am supposed to do something in particular had even crossed their mind.
Hence, if my goal is to make sure my mother-in-law enjoys her visit, I expect her to have expectations of what I will do when she is here. It's like I have to make her enjoy herself, as if I and I alone have that power; and, in turn, as if she expects me to do so. Frankly, I'm a lot lower than that on her important-people-in-Asheville list, considering she has two sons and two grandchildren here who must rank above me, no matter how much she loves me too.
Without a doubt, my intention is that she enjoy herself, and looking at it that way helps me recognize that there are a million ways she can do that. It lets me let go of expectations -- the ones I have for myself and the ones I create for others.
Best of all, for the first time in a long, new mother time, I feel like I can once again just be me around my mother-in-law.
Getting the Kinks Out with Supta Padangustasana (Reclined Head-to-Knee Sequence)
As an homage to how twisted we moms and our expectations are, and to remind us that it's not that hard to straighten ourselves out, I offer supta padangustasana, reclined head-to-knee pose. Only that's a really bad translation because right away there's this goal that my head is supposed to actually touch my knee and this expectation that if I practice faithfully enough one day it will. Plus, if you want to get technical about it, your head eventually touches your shin, not your knee. But wipe that vision out of your head because head-to-knee is hard enough to deal with already.
The neat thing here is that twists in yoga actually untwist you inside. The best image you can carry with you when performing twists is of wringing out a washcloth -- a very supple, beautiful washcloth with a heart, but one that is also soaking wet and thus laden down. As you twist, you wring out the tension that we all hold along our spines. And if we back off of goal-focused yoga and don't twist beyond our abilities, our hearts have more space to sing.
Supta padangustasana has the added pleasure of starting with some straightening. The first two phases of the pose allow you to open your hamstrings and hip sockets. Done properly, they also align the spine. By the time you become that happy washcloth, you're dripping with stuff to release.
Best of all, there are many variations of this pose, so you can really let go of your expectations and see just how beautiful your body and life really are.
Supta Padangustasana A
1) Lie on your back. Take a moment to feel the alignment of your spine. You should be able to breathe freely and easily and feel an evenness in your body, especially between your two shoulders and two hips.
2) Bend your right knee toward your chest and give it a hug to release your lower back.
3) Let your knee move away from your chest so your lower back returns to the floor. Let it rest here as you: a) loop a strap over the sole of your foot and hold the ends in your right hand; b) hold onto your calf with your right hand; or c) grasp your big toe with the first two fingers of your right hand between your big toe and second toe and your right thumb on the outside of your big toe. (Tighter hamstrings consider the a) option; more open ones move toward c))
4) Keep your lower back relaxing on the floor as you straighten your right leg overhead. If this is enough to help straighten you out, stay here.
5) Check in with your left leg. Make sure it is still strongly stretching out along the floor. Keep your foot flexed so your left toes point toward the ceiling.
6) Place your left hand on the left side of your pelvis to help keep it down on the floor. Its tendency will be to pop up to accommodate a deeper version of the pose than your body is ready for. If you let it do so, you are letting a goal get the better of you.
7) If you are able while keeping your lower back on the floor, slowly start to bring your right foot toward your head. As soon as you feel your lower back start to leave the floor, stop and observe just where your body is.
8) Let each exhale relax your lower back more and more. Let each inhale move up your spine to open your heart. Stay here for 5-10 breaths.
Supta Padangustasana B
1) On your next exhale, press your left hand firmly onto the left side of your pelvis to keep your balance and honesty, and start to open your right leg out to the right in a straddle. If it is easy for you to lower your leg to the floor, start to draw your right foot gently in the direction of your right ear.
2) You may have to switch from fingers-on-toes to hand-on-calf or to a strap here. This is not a failing because you shouldn't have any expectations of yourself.
3) Strongly draw your right femur bone into your right hip socket for support and don't forget to relax your lower back into the floor.
4) Stay here for 5-10 breaths and let go of the struggle.
Supta Padangustasana C
1) On your next inhale, draw your right leg up to the sky again. Replace your right hand grip with your left hand (holding straps, on the outside of your right calf, or on the outside or your right foot).
2) As you exhale, let your right leg lower to the left side, drawing you into a twist. You may find it far more comfortable to bend your right knee here, and will get just as much of a benefit from the twist with bent knee. (All a straight leg does is help open the IT band on the outside of your leg.)
3) Take a moment to find your spine's alignment here. You may need to scoot your left hip (the one now on the floor) over to the right a bit. Both of your shoulders should relax into the floor. If your right shoulder is lifting, back out of the twist or bend your right knee. You want to give your heart space to sing by letting your chest face the sky.
4) With each inhale, let your heart lift up and out. With each exhale, feel the distance between your right (top) hip and your right armpit. Stay here for 5-10 breaths.
5) When you are ready, either with your right leg straight or knee bent, roll onto your back, hug both knees in, and realign your spine.
Lower your right leg straight to the floor and repeat on the left side.
Remember, you're just straightening yourself out here. No one expects anything of you.
Though they surely will appreciate you acting with love and kindness. And that's so very much easier to do when you can credit others with acting with love and kindness (or their best approximation of it) toward you.
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