Monday, October 24, 2011

twenty minutes

The day has kind of started. I already made breakfasts and let the dog out and walked one girl to the bus. I put the dishes in the sink and changed a diaper and brushed my teeth. There's coffee in my veins and I washed the sleep out of my eyes. But I'm not ready to get all the way ready. Yet. 

I need something, first.

Twenty minutes. That's what I need.

I can take that, and not feel guilty about it. They can handle that, and not really need anything, if I set it up right. Maybe.

So I explain that I'm going to do some yoga and I find something for The Littles to do. Coloring, I call it. Baby school, the Middlest calls it. She will be the teacher, of course. She likes being in charge when Eldest is away.

It's not silent. Of course it's not. I have to step out of Triangle Pose for a moment so I can check out the progress on a picture. Someone steps over me several times while I'm lying in Savasana. And I know the dog is standing right in front of me, staring me down, even though my eyes are closed while I'm trying to meditate.

But I take it. Twenty minutes. It feels so good.

Then I take on the day. And even though there's so much here and there and back and forth and this and that, it's a good one.