ever feel like you just can’t keep up?
i’m having ‘one of those days’ more often than usual.
two kids keeps me on my toes,
plus teaching yoga & managing a home.
so just a sweet reminder to myself and you too, if you ever feel this way:
stopping in the middle of a hot summer day to lick an ice cream cone in the midst of mess and chaos really does take the edge off.
Dear Anorexia,
Memorial Day weekend marks my recovery anniversary, and I forgot this year until just now. What’s more–this year makes it ten years! So, I felt like I should mark the occasion with some recollection of what it feels like to be recovered for a whole decade.
I think it could pretty much be summed up in the fact that I forgot all about it.
Love,
Peach
with two i’m busier than ever
i’m teaching again and managing my little household of four
summer is ripe in alabama
and i steal an afternoon nap whenever i can
send me an email and say hi!
i don’t know any more than you do
i’m just a mom, living in a body
we can all learn from each other
no one’s journey more valuable
than another’s
this photo was taken a few days ago, at 32 weeks and 1 day.
it should be common knowledge now: the only thing a person ought to say to a pregnant woman is “you look beautiful” – because we do, when we’re pregnant – we’re full of life, literally, and that’s (cliche but true) a miracle.
i’m still surprised by how many people think it’s cute or funny to say “you look like you swallowed a basketball” or “triplets!”
it’s true: i’m round. i’m carrying my son. he’s growing. why the need to comment on size? why the need to comment on size?
the same goes for my friends who carry small – they don’t like how it feels when people tell them “you’re tiny! you don’t even look pregnant!” they tell me it makes them feel like something is wrong with the baby, or somehow the experience is less valid because it isn’t as obvious.
just a gentle clue: next time you see a pregnant woman and you feel compelled to comment on her body, see if you can muster these three words, “you look beautiful!”
It’s been an exciting couple of weeks. I’ve watched two young women who I care about deeply make huge strides toward seeking help for their eating disorders. This is so incredibly inspiring!
People ask me all the time what it was that helped me get better and here’s my answer: I got professional help. Not just a little bit. Not for just a couple of months. But a lot, and for years.
It always surprises me how many people read my book and email me, telling me all about their eating disorders, and asking for help. Okay I’m not surprised by the emails (I love them!) or by the details of their disorders, but what surprises me is how many of these women have never sought treatment. They have been living with a debilitating disorder for sometimes years, thinking they can and should just stop their behaviors on their own.
So, today is just a small reminder: you don’t have to do this by yourself. In fact, if you really want to get better, and truly recover, and have a lasting recovery, you will seek out the best, most intensive care you can find. You will prioritize it over work and school and family, for the moment, because that’s what it takes.
There is always an excuse. It’s not a good time. It’s too expensive. I’m not really sick enough. But in the words of the yoga teacher Baron Baptiste, “If not now, when?”
my mama yogi friends all agree that their regular yoga practice helps them not only feel stronger, happier, and healthier, but it actually makes them a better mom. here’s a few ways yoga helps me be a better mama:
- practicing yoga teaches patience. this is invaluable when raising a toddler!
- yoga teaches self-acceptance, which helps me forgive myself for my mistakes and accept my daughter for who she is in every moment (even, or especially, when she is having a hard day)!
- yoga reminds me to breathe fully through every moment in life. this is especially useful with throwing food, tantrums, and crayons on the wall!
- yoga reminds me of what matters in life, and this frees me to laugh, play, and act silly with my daughter.
- my little girl sees that i’m committed to a practice that is good for my health, both in body & mind. this models to her the values of self-care, consistency, gentle disciplne.
- yoga asks us to be honest and authentic with who we are in every moment. i teach my daughter the same things.
- after i practice yoga, i feel grounded, inspired, and steady. my daughter feels these qualities in me just the same way she picks up on my bad moods. so, more yoga!
- she loves to OM with me. nothing cuter than an almost-two-year-old with her hands together humming along!
- practicing yoga helps me understand HER! children are natural yogis: going with the flow, trusting their bodies and their needs, and twisting, climbing, and rolling all over the place! when i practice an arm balance and fall down laughing, i can relate to her curiosity as she learns to climb on the jungle gym.
how does yoga help you be a better mom?
it’s the little things:
i can’t afford massages, pedicures, and hairdos except on rare occasions, but my insurance covers chiropractic so i go every week, and walk out feeling like i’ve done something good for myself.
soup is perfect this time of year. i’ve already tried three new recipes this fall…i love the possibility as i’m chopping and dropping so many bits and pieces into the pot.
my daughter is a riot. maybe all kids this age are, but she cracks me up at regular intervals. i like it best when she yells out, SOCK IT TO ME!!! first thing in the morning.
prenatal yoga practice is a blessing. even just ten minutes while my toddler is watching the adventures of winnie the pooh. my hips and low back are so grateful!
boots are back! thank you autumn for cool enough weather to wear my favorite fryes!
love ya,
p.
some moments as mama are so harried. like today: too much to do before lunch, ravenously hungry when we got home. bags of groceries and a 30+ pound toddler in my arms, packages waiting on our doorstep, headache coming on, need a glass of water…
and other moments, so surprisingly sacred. awoke at 2am last night to noises from my daughter’s fitful sleep. 45 minutes later i was still up, and hungry. so that was me: nearly 3am eating a bowl of kitchari in my underwear, perched on a makeshift table (we’re still moving in) while strong, silver light from the full moon swept in through my kitchen windows. so full, happy. mama woman. all is well.
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