Balancing Motherhood, Yoga and Writing

A recent study commissioned by Reach Out and Read revealed that the majority of young children — 52 percent — are not being read to on a daily basis. That’s 13 million children under 6 years old who are going to bed every night without a bedtime story — without the undivided, loving attention that comes with sharing a favorite book with their parents
Dr. Barry Zuckerman, Reach Out and Read

Today I came across a blog which discusses the above, rather frightening statistic. Reading to children has a positive impact on one’s relationship with them, their language development, future scholastic and life achievement, and simply develops a love for books. 

While I don’t think books should be forced on children, and they should be supported in the individual interests they develop from a young age, I do think having a book-friendly culture in the home is important - seeing parents read being one of the key factors. This is something my toddler definitely sees a lot of - I read while he’s having a bath, I often read while I’m eating, I grab moments of reading everywhere.

As a devoted bookworm, I have to say that being read to from a very early age instilled in me a fascination with, and love of, books. When I was in the hospital with asthma at three years old, the nurses apparently thought I was actually reading a favourite book, but I’d just memorised it exactly from being read it so many times! A lot of children I went to school with saw books as a tiresome chore, to be dealt with only to fulfil teachers’ requirements, whereas I would curl up in the book corner at any given opportunity.

In fact, reading to my child is one of the things I’ve always looked forward to about having children! Even at sixteen months, the Pibler loves being read to, and has shown an interest in books for many months. I started reading to him when he was still a newborn! He eagerly brings me books on and off all day. He sits on my lap and listens attentively, turning the pages and commenting on what he sees. Sharing books with him is right up there in my list of top favourite parenting moments of the day: it allows me to slow down and savour the extraordinary gift of having him for a son, and share something I love with him.

Yesterday I was ’stuck’ upstairs breastfeeding my toddler for what seemed an interminable time, having been interrupted from tidying up when he woke up from a nap. I really wanted to be downstairs doing something else. Inspired by ‘Buddhism for Mothers ‘, I tried to watch my thoughts as they became more and more frustrated, and decided to change tack: I did a three-minute Kundalini Yoga meditation ‘for a calm heart’. It has a simple hand posture, or ‘mudra’ (possible even when nursing!) and the breath is to hold both the in-breath and the out-breath for as long as possible without straining. By the end of the three minutes I felt in a totally different mental and emotional state: I was enjoying myself instead of wishing to get on with something else, I felt peaceful and expanded. If only, I thought, I could remember these little tools on a more regular basis!

As a busy mother of a busy toddler I have no choice but to keep my serenity by opening up to ways of integrating my spiritual practice with all the little moments of my everyday life, rather than waiting for a swathe of time - much like I’ve done with my writing over the years: take what you can get, and make the most of it.

That’s why I enjoyed Kundalini Yoga teacher Gurmukh’s brilliant book ‘The Eight Human Talents ‘ which I refer to every now and then: unlike most Kundalini Yoga books, it doesn’t have complete ‘kriyas’ or sets of exercises, but includes short exercises that can be done in as little as one minute. What’s amazing is that, due to their effect on the glandular and endocrine systems that govern our emotional state, we can feel a difference from even a tiny time committment.

Today I felt a bit like screaming as the Pibler wouldn’t come to get into his pyjamas (he was very tired but fighting going to bed as he often does) and wanted to romp all over the bed instead. I’d had a very long day with him and needed him to just go to bed in the foreseeable future. I find honesty rather than suppression is best in parenting as in most endeavours. So, I told him that Mommy was feeling a bit irritated and needed to take a few deep breaths. I was inspired by a thread on the “Mothering” forums that discussed how to model ’self-soothing’ for young children, how to show them the way to constructively deal with anger and frustration. So I took a few deep conscious breaths and although I felt rather silly, it did snap me out of a downward spiral and re-focused me on my intention of being loving and patient towards my son. 

I’ve stopped teaching the yoga classes I was doing, and am thinking of taking a different tack: gearing my classes towards mothers and helping them find little tools to use at home, to help them with stress and the feelings of lack of control that,I know from talking to lots of other moms of toddlers, can be overwhelming at times. 

I’ve been looking for ideas on what activities (other than eternal cleaning) to do with the Pibler on rainy days when facing the outside world is just too much. I got the following play-dough recipe from a friend, but, being swamped by dishes and other duties, have been trying to get around to trying it for about a week:

2 mugs plain flour

2 mugs water

1 mug salt

2 heaped teaspoons of cream of tartar

2 tablespoons of oil

food colouring

Whizz the first four ingredients to make a thick batter consistency. Add oil, then food colouring. Heat in a pan, stirring all the time, until it all clumps together in a big lump. Knead. Store in a plastic bag.

I thought it could be a two-prong process: capitalising on my toddler’s current fascination with ‘cook-cook’ by getting him to ‘help’ me make the play-dough; and then actually making shapes with it. 

I think it’ll be the closest I come to baking, for now. I was recently asked to bake something for the Brighton Stops For Tea charity events during February, currently being organised by several of my ‘mom friends’ to raise money for the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

Talking to these moms, I realised I wasn’t the only mother who couldn’t help crying every time something about Baby P - the 17-month-old who was battered to death recently in London - came on the radio. So a few have decided to do something to channel their rage and sadness and bring some positive result from it: mass bakings of cakes and hostings of tea parties to raise money for the NSPCC. I agree that every little bit helps, and plan to help out on the day at my local event, rather than attempting to bake something - I haven’t baked since I was about nine (I think). 

A couple of days ago I watched a few excerpts of talks by American spiritual teacher Gangaji, and it uplifted and inspired me. She teaches about self-inquiry and truth, being completely honest with yourself about what your life is about. It started a reflection in me on what, exactly, I am trying to bring to life here: what values do I live out day-to-day, what values do I teach my son by example, and how do the activities of my life reflect that?

My week has been busy so far. Describing what I’ve done wouldn’t convey the completely wiped-out feeling I’m left with at the end of each day, of having worked very hard indeed. It’s the feeling I sometimes got after a twelve hour shift as a support worker, working with people with learning disabilities and mental health problems. It’s a similar sense of non-stop negotiation, constantly juggling my own needs with someone else’s, and not having enough space, silence, solitude. As exciting and precious as it is, it’s undeniably draining to be the life support system for a newly developing person. Even as he is becoming more independent, he is still very much a ‘baby’, which can be easy to forget when I’m around newborns and he looks so grown up!

In the midst of all this action it’s all the more essential to stop and take in the perfection of everything, stand as the stillness within the movement, and appreciate the ever-flowing nature of life. Within that, I am still working out what my truth is, moment by moment, and often it can be so confusing! Being a mother, being a writer, a yogi, a lover, a friend, a volunteer, all these things - all are part of me and yet none define me. Gangaji’s teachings left me with a deep feeling of stillness within the activity, and the question she poses - ‘What does my life stand for?’  - is certainly an inspiring one to contemplate.

I’ve spent most of today cleaning but, post-dinner, you would never think so if you looked at the dining area and kitchen: onion peels, carrot tops and various implements scattered everywhere, with the odd toy duck thrown in, plus of course bits of actual dinner - kidney beans, rice and so on. Still, I feel strangely satisfied as I finally achieved my housework tasks for the weekend!

The secret is to have no set plans with others in the day. As soon as I am going out at some point, nothing substantial gets done. I’ve enjoyed being in a rhythm with my little one again, pottering around the house together this weekend with no agenda other than getting it back to ‘ground zero’, and interspersing that with many jokes, tickles, stories, talking, dancing to music, and romping on the bed. It was great to only communicate with him and not have to juggle talking to a friend and him. Of course, if I had to do this everyday, I’d feel isolated and bored, but balance is what I’m striving for as ever!

Last night we took the Pibler to his first pantomine. His aunt was performing as part of an amateur drama group and gave me and my partner tickets to go along. I didn’t know what to expect and was slightly nervous about what he would do, but had no idea that the Pibler would spend most of the performance standing right up at the stage, looking up at the actors with fascination and dancing along to the songs! His aunt said that she could just see the top of his little face and hear his ‘talking’ - joining in. There were other similar-aged children but they never moved from their parents’ laps (I wondered how they accomplished that), whereas the Pibler was ‘off’ the minute we got in there - just took his shoes and socks off and went!

He also discovered the exits out of the side and back of the school hall where the pantomime took place, and was soon legging it for the stairs on more than one occasion. He tried to climb onto the stage several times during interval (and once during the second half!) necessitating me having to collect and redirect him. His dad remarked that he seems to be ‘fearless’, and I must admit I felt rather proud!

I’m sure his physical adventurousness, coming more and more to the fore since he started walking, is partly his own temperament, but I think that raising him in a more-or-less Continuum way has contributed. He hasn’t been ‘hovered over’ as most young ones are these days, and has been given freedom appropriate within safe bounds, much more than I see even older children getting. I remember being shocked at Buddhafield Festival last summer when I saw a newly-walking toddler having free reign all over the festival (two large fields stretching a good distance) well out of his mother’s eye-shot. Now I think I understand - she was probably applying the Continuum principles of trust in your child’s abilities, once demonstrated, and that was after all one of the safest environments you could come across in modern life.

I also think our methods of discipline have a bearing on his confidence and ease in new environments: we don’t ‘use’ fear, we don’t admonish him for doing things that are normal for him to do, we simply redirect, and if there’s no reason for him not to do something other than ‘what would people think?’, we generally don’t make an issue of it. Which is why I found it hard to have to drag him back from the bottom of the library stairs last week, knowing he could climb them capably, but myself afraid of the wrath of a librarian. I knew that he couldn’t understand why different rules seemed to apply at home and elsewhere, but other people’s property and rules need to be considered too. 

Tonight during bedtime stories he pointed to a tiny little duck in a detailed drawing of a toy stall (from my childhood favourite book, ‘Dogger’ by Shirley Hughes) and said ‘quack quack’, impressing me with his concentration and comprehension (it’s a long book and intended for rather older readers). Today I feel at peace with being a mother,  so lucky to be able to do it full-time, and gifted to have the company of my son.

Tonight I am planning an early one after a relaxing bath, curling up with some books! I seem to be reading too many books at once again: a biography of John Lennon , by Philip Norman who wrote the brilliant ‘Shout’ biography of the Beatles; a book called ‘The Republic of Trees ‘ by Sam Taylor which I’m not really into yet, but is quite spooky, still finishing off ‘After the Ecstacy, the Laundry ‘, and just collected a book called ‘Atomised ‘ by Michel Houellebecq from the library, which is supposed to be a classic.

I did some writing in the library today, making a start on my writing course homework, one of the options being to write a piece of ‘flash fiction’ of not more than 300 words - a considerable challenge, to tell a story in such a short space! I feel exhausted because the Pibler is teething and has a cough again, therefore waking even more often than usual in the night. It seems like about ten to twelve times a night although that could be a slight exaggeration.

It is amazing how one adapts to the ongoing sleep deprivation, though, and still manage to function relatively well. But I have to keep remembering not to expect as much of myself as I usually would, in terms of productivity, because I am only working with a semi-conscious brain a lot of the time. I know that I’m particularly tired because my attempts to meditate this week have more often than not degenerated into a light doze.

The writing course last night was on the theme ‘humour’, which I found interesting. Humour is not something that’s been ostensibly part of my writing, although there are hints of it. I got some good feedback on my ‘Cats’ piece, the 1000-word story I’m writing for the Cats Protection writing competition (last week’s homework), but am undecided as to how to progress with it. Hopefully the tutor’s comments will shed some light.

The Pibler’s communication is coming along so beautifully: we really seem to have proper conversations these days! He is imitating words such as ‘gentle’ (which I say when showing him how to touch my face, rather than batting at it and scratching it as he often does) and ‘thank you’ - in a very rudimentary way - but it’s clear what he’s saying. He continues to be obsessed with ‘cooking’ and pouring water into and out of containers, making a lot of mess to clear up!

After an exhausting day yesterday I decided to treat myself to curling up with a DVD: ‘Closer’, a film with Jude Law, Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman. As depressing as it was about the state of modern relationships, I enjoyed the movie and felt well-rested from doing nothing but lie on the couch all evening!

Rarely, the Pibler slept three hours solid thus allowing me to watch most of it undisturbed. As usual, though, I first had to deal with the guilt of not doing any writing or anything productive. I decided at the last minute on Sunday night not to go to the breastfeeding counselling diploma course on Monday. A conversation with a good friend helped me realise that I was over-committing myself again, and that I had been ignoring my feelings of not feeling ‘right’ about leaving the Pibler for six hours without breastfeeding him. I felt a huge sense of relief once I made my decision, although I hope that I can still do the course in the future. I think I have been operating under an assumption that ‘more is better’, when in fact I have enough going on as a mother-writer-yogi! I need to relax into that more and allow more spaces in my life. It’s an ongoing process and my attempts to bring more balance into my life often feels like ‘two steps forward, three steps back’.

As my partner has not been enjoying our pots and pans being tossed about (and one sieve broken) by the Pibler’s attempts at ‘cooking’, I bought him two pots at a charity shop yesterday, as well as a whole toddler tea set. Even so, dinner preparation time last night was extremely fraught as no matter what I tried, he was cranky and whiny! It was so frustrating: he’d only napped for a measly half an hour during the day, so was over-tired, but we’ve realised that too-long naps impair his sleep at night, so it’s a Catch-22. 

I tried putting him in his booster seat so he was closer to my level to see what I was doing as I cooked, giving him a carrot or two to ‘chop’ with his safe knife, and so on. He had been quite happy playing next to me with washing-up water before dinner while I washed the dishes, but by the time I was cooking he had had enough. We’d had a busy day of me volunteering at the breastfeeding drop-in while the Pibler played around and alongside his ‘friends’ (he seemed mildly disconcerted by me holding a 2-week-old baby whose mom had gone to the bathroom - I couldn’t believe how light he felt!), then going to a meeting where I helped set up (where he had his brief nap), and then some grocery shopping. 

Although I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed by it all again lately, I’ve had a week of unexpected abundance: receiving two parcels of clothes and books for the Pibler (from my mother and his other grandmother), a vegetable stall worker giving me some basil and a banana for free (for no particular reason!), finding an unexpected 50p, and the bus driver letting me have a free ride up the hill at the end of my long day yesterday. People seem to be kinder, lately, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve been practicing the ‘Metta’ (loving-kindness) Buddhist meditation, both as a sitting practice and just walking around during the day. This is one where you cultivate feelings of wishing people well, wishing them to be happy and free of suffering. So I think I’ve possibly been giving off a different vibration than usual.

My ribcage, stomach muscles and legs still ache after the strong navel set I practiced at sadhana on Sunday: it’s called Nabhi Kriya and it’s hard to believe I once did it as a 120 day practice (the same set every day for 120 days). The Pibler likes to climb on top of me and poke me in the exact spot of the ribcage where I am sore!  Today we are having a more relaxed day with no plans as such, and tonight I’m teaching my Kundalini yoga class.

Sadhana ,or ‘daily spiritual practice’, is a central part of Kundalini Yoga. It involves 2 1/2 hours of prayer, yoga, and chanting meditation at the ambrosial, sacred hours of 5-7:30 a.m. Yesterday I joined a sadhana session in Brighton with the new Kundalini Yoga teacher trainees.

It was the first group sadhana I’ve attended in a long while. It was raining heavily and very windy, but fortunately I had only a very short walk to do. I took the Pibler along to occasional sadhana’s as a newborn, but yesterday I went alone, the experiment being to see if his dad could manage him between four thirty and eight a.m. He apparently woke up a lot, but was okay, and a bit later we all napped in relays, which was very much needed!

There’s something so special about sadhana. It sounds totally crazy to the un-initiated, but being up at that time of morning, and sharing spiritual practice with other people, brings a sense of peace and belonging that sustains you through the day and keeps you connected to your higher truth. I used to go to daily sadhana at my teacher’s house for a few months, who luckily lived only a couple of streets down from my house. This was in my pre-baby days of course! My sadhana now is obviously a great deal shorter than the full 2 1/2 hours, but the idea is that while full sadhana is ideal, any effort on a daily basis has a beneficial effect.

Here is a quote from Yogi Bhajan, who brought Kundalini Yoga to the West: “Sadhana is a conscious activity. We consciously choose to rise up, to exercise the body , and to meditate. Each day is different. Each day, we are different. every 72 hours all the cells of the body totally change. Sickness comes and goes. Motivation waxes and wanes, but through all the flux of life, through all the variations of the mind and heart, we consciously choose to maintain a constant and regular practice.”

A few years ago I read ‘The Artist’s Way ‘ by Julia Cameron , and it helped me recover my creativity from a writer’s block I’d suffered ever since a university poetry course killed my urge to write for writing’s sake and turned it into a ‘production’.

One of the keys of recovering your ‘artist self’ according to Julia Cameron, is the ‘artist’s date’, which involves committing to doing something once a week for at least an hour, to nourish your source of inspiration. And it has to be done alone. I used this tool for a couple of years until it fell by the wayside because of life’s general business and my task-orientated lifestyle - and then, of course, motherhood making alone time a rare and precious commodity.

Today, however, while my partner took care of the Pibler, I took an impulsive visit to the Brighton Royal Pavilion Museum and Art Gallery to take in an exhibition called ‘Paintings Unwrapped‘ which was fascinating. It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to drink in some artwork, and it left me inspired and seeing things with a fresh eye. I’m not someone who knows a great deal about art, but the juxtaposition of paintings and the notes explaining the commonalities and differences between them, helped me to understand and see deeper than I ever had before. 

After that I treated myself to some writing time over a latte at the Museum cafe, where I started work on my short story entry for the Cats Protection Competition. I then walked down to the sea and drank in the music of the crashing waves underneath a misty-blue winter sky. It felt like heaven.

I returned to chaos again as the Pibler was desperate for a nap and had been too busy ‘mopping’ alongside his dad’s cleaning (very ‘continuum ‘ ) to do so. So he started screaming when I, starving hungry and becoming hypoglycaemic as I’m prone to do, really needed to eat a snack first before sorting him out. He conked out and a bit later my friend visited from outer London - it was great to catch up and have some lunch. I definitely think that Artist’s Dates should become a regular part of my life again. It’s so important to get some fresh air into one’s life and do something out of the ordinary routine, and something solitary. Maybe once a month is more realistic for me though! 

Last night I started my evening class, ‘First Steps in Fiction’. We dealt with writer’s block and how to resolve it, did a great writing exercise based on ‘Wordles‘, and looked at each other’s work.

Doing the course felt like being in another world. It was refreshing to interact with other adults not on the basis of our shared motherhood, but on something completely different. My love of words was re-awakened. It felt jarring to return to ‘normal life’ and the situation of the Pibler being awake (his fourth waking since bedtime three hours before) and unable to be re-settled. Eventually I brought him downstairs and he played energetically for an hour and a half, as I lacked the energy and patience to go through the whole putting-to-sleep routine for a third time that night.

I had to channel my grumpiness into washing dishes noisily. Cleaning can be quite therapeutic! I realised this morning that my problem is having expectations of any kind: expecting that, on my return from the course, I could sit down and tell my partner how it was, maybe have a cup of tea; expectations that I might have time to read a book during the day while the Pibler naps; all expectations that have been thwarted lately, causing frustration. So, bringing to mind my recent Buddhist reading, I resolved to ‘let it go’ and did just that. Instantly my mind felt more at peace - I was no longer setting conditions on my happiness.

It seems strange to me that I should still feel ‘hard done by’ at times even though I have much more scheduled ‘me time’ than I used to when the Pibler was younger. I mean, being able to do an evening class is something many mothers only dream of! But I actually find that the more ‘time off’ I get from parenting, the harder it is to return to it with grace. I get into the zone of being in my own head and doing the things I enjoy, and it’s that much trickier to drop it all again. In some ways, exhausting and unhealthy as it is in the long run, it’s easier for me to remain ‘in the flow’ of almost constant mothering. As I discussed with another mom friend today, it’s the taste of freedom that’s so tantalising, and then we come down to earth with a thud, realising that it was only fleeting.

I’m enjoying the homework assignment for the fiction-writing course: I’ve chosen to write an entry for the ‘Cats’ magazine competition (the magazine of Cats Protection) - a short story or poem - I’m going to see what comes out - and spent some of the brief ‘me time’ I had today, brainstorming on that. It helps me to have set challenges to get me writing. Now it’s just a matter of finding the time, as ever!