Nineteen days into my 30 Day Yoga Campand one thing I can honestly say is that I am gaining a whole new respect of what my body can do and what i can no longer do.
Folding forward, resting my elbows on the mat in between my legs straddled…barely…not really…I pause and reflect on the fact that my achy hips won’t let me really straddle and the reality that as my 54th birthday approacheth I am no longer middle aged…more like past middle aged, which means my parents really are old and yes, means that I am getting older too and this body of mine is getting older and that really kind of sucks. Then again, here I am, on the floor, legs spread wide…kind of, sort of, barely…and I am folded forward in-between them with my elbows resting easily on the mat in front of me. Not bad, I tell myself as I slowly exhale and lean even more into this pose and rest my forehead on top of my forearms. Not bad at all.
Today’s mantra was I Respect and yes, I am learning a whole new respect for me…the me that I am…right here, right now.
Oh, and, I have all kinds of respect for the me that earned this medal.
A medal earned for doing perhaps more work than this girl has done.
It’s going to be a short week. It’s going to be a busy week. It’s going to be a hectic week. It’s going to be an emotional week…so many feels…there’s no getting around that. It’s going to be a happy week. It’s going to be a week of graduations, celebrations and lots of pride…so much pride.
Let’s start it off right with this.
I can’t imagine never not being amazed with this kid of mine. I imagine that he will soon grow tired of my amazement because he is almost a teenager as he likes to remind me pretty much every day. That’s okay. He can do that. I, in turn, will always marvel over the miracle that he is because, trust me, sitting by his bed every single day of those 132 days in the NICU watching over him the last thing his father and I could imagine was moments like this. Living through all those days filled with so much pain, anxiety and hope we kind of earned the right as NICU parents, because although we left the NICU with our baby boy 12 years ago, the NICU never leaves us. So yeah, we’re just a little bit emotional and over-the-top proud of this amazing, miraculous child of ours.
He’s proud too.
He should be. He worked very hard all year long for this.
Of course his teachers, aides and even the principal are proud of him. I like that you could see that pride reflected in the faces of his teacher and his principal as he accepted his awards today. I know that his principal gets just how remarkable all of this is for Daniel and for us. Having sat with her many times in a NICU years ago caring for her baby and supporting her I know that she knows.
And now there is literally only three more days of school.
At most dance competitions this is the norm and, unlike SOME parents, I respect the rule. It really is for the privacy and protection of our children. Thankfully professional videos and photographs are available at the venues for us to purchase. Sometimes they are even kind of affordable like at this weekend’s competition.
Yeah, I paid for this picture.
How could I not?
JoAnn summed it up perfectly saying you can tell that all her hard work has paid off with this picture right here. Thankfully, that shot (and the fact that I paid for it) was the only fail of the weekend.
There was nothing but platinums at the end of this Rainbow Dance Competition for my favorite Dance Star.
Considering that the Mominatrix herself, my fellow tutu wearing Tiarathoner, Kristen, has included me in a group of some of the hottest moms on the Internet” in her weekly feature over at Imperfect Parent, my kids are just going to have to get over any bit of embarrassment. Sorry kids, but you can not argue with the Mominatrix. She knows all things when it comes to hot moms, even hot moms as old as your mom. Besides kids, were it not for your mom being viewed as hot, well, you might not be here.
Ask your dad.
It could be worse. I could drive around town and then show up to pick you up at school wearing my wrinkly, ratty flannel jammies with my bare face and bed-head. Of course I would call out loudly for you and wave frantically so all could see that yes, I am your mom. Now that would definitely kill you.