Shhhhhh It's actually Yoga

The boys have been attending a baby Yoga class for a little over a month.

There I said it. Not out loud mind you but that is as loud as that little declaration is getting.

When asked by friends what I'm up to on Tuesday mornings I have taken creative license with the name of the class "Yoga Babies" and relabel it as "Mommy and Me " class.

Which is even more lame.

The saddest part is that if this was a class in the traditional pass/fail context my boys would be dropouts. The actual purpose for taking the class is so the boys can meet with their speech therapist (yes, they have a speech therapist thank you very much) to learn words like "Reach", "Bend", and "Namaste" but as of this week the only words the boys regularly use are "Choo Choo" and "Stuck".

The yoga instructor starts out each class by asking us all to "engage in a moment of peace to declutter our minds from all the external pressures and worries of the world". She then proceeds to close her eyes and  takes deep cleansing breaths.. for a very,very long time.  Which is just darling for her and all the other mommies with sweet, purring newborns in their arms. Not so much for the sole person in the class with two children in her lap who currently weigh in at a combined 55 lbs and have no desire to close their eyes, breath deeply or sit quietly for more than 11 seconds. This alone should have sent my mental red flags ablazin' but like any good, overachieving parent I was determined to stick it out and make sure my boys got the most out of this experience dammit!

In response to such a sluggish start to the class I started coming a few minutes late to avoid all the breathing and closing of eyes however that tactic only earned me more than just a few disapproving looks further reinforcing our resident flunky status.

After we are all properly cleansed the instructor leads the class in a series of stretches designed to warm up the body. She encourages us to follow your child's lead and listen to their individual body rhythms.  So I do. I run after Alex as he does circles around the room and nearly tramples the other posing babies. I listen to Max as he shrieks and claws his way out of my lap and tears towards the trash bin to pull out yet another crumpled water cooler cup.

At this point the serene smile on the yoga instructor's face pulls just tight and wide enough to imply GET A GRIP OF YOUR LITTLE MONSTERS NOW but the zen voice that flows out of her mouth encourages me to try and recenter in order to bring down the boy's energy level a bit.  

Right.

And perhaps she could suggest a pharmaceutical that will bring down the energy level of a twenty month year old boy to a point that is more in line with meditation?

So it goes on for the rest of the hour. Yup, the hour. The instructor doles out helpful suggestions on how to achieve "Tree pose" and "Modified Downward Dog" with our children while my boys, who seem to be under the impression that they are being scouted for the junior Olympics at these sessions, give it all they've got. They spare no kick, leap, scream or catapult in this class. If it wasn't so terrible I'd actually be proud of the little guys.

Then finally after enduring the hour with as much grace as I can muster we sit in a circle and go around proclaiming our child's Celebrations! i.e. a mandatory, barf inducing brag-fest. And the worst part is that I can never think of a single thing to say about either boy. Not a single new word, fun trick or cutesy moment to drool over. Once in an effort to appear like a halfway decent Mom I bragged about how the boys had improved in the area of "impluse control". Judging by the expressions around the room "impulse control" is not really up to snuff in the Celebrations! circle.

The good news is that next week is our last week. The bad news is that I will be taking Sophia with us to class because our grandmasitter will be unavailable. The first and only time I took her she left the class sobbing and screaming that she HATED YOGA AND WOULD NOT COME BACK! NOT EVER AGAIN!! Good times.

Maybe we'll all come down with swine flu and will have a good excuse to ditch the final class.

Stay Tuned for my next post entitled "Are you kidding me? We actually got the *!&@$ swine flu!"