Tag Archives: mum

“If you are happy, be happy. If you are angry, be angry.”

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Here’s a piece of a blog-entry: “Gratitude, Shmatitude”, by jmlindy of Snide Reply. She’s a mum, a teacher, and a writer, among other things. The post is a good read, and her blog a good one to bookmark.

Check it out here: http://jlwrite.wordpress.com/2011/11/21/gratitude-schmatitude/
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One Christmas, my mother gave my siblings and me really nice fleece sweaters from Land’s End. Each sweater had a surprise in the pocket…a crisp large denomination bill. I decided to use my mom’s idea for my son. I found a cozy shearling-lined hoodie that I knew he’d like. I put a large denomination gift card in the pocket. I put it under the tree. He loved it. He looked for other presents. There were none. “That’s it?” he asked, “a hoodie?”

“It’s nice hoodie,” I said.

“It’s a hoodie,” he said. “I got a hoodie.”

“Put it on,” I said.

“Mom, it’s a hoodie. It’ll fit.”

“Just put it on. It was expensive. I want to see if it looks good on you.”

“Fine,” he said. I figured he’d put his hands in the pockets, the way everyone does when they try on a hoodie. He stood in front of me, arms limp at his sides, disappointment draining from his pores.

“There,” he said. “It’s on. It’s a hoodie.”

“Look in the freaking pockets,” I said.

Raksha bandan – bond of protection

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When I lived in Zambia my family celebrated Raksha Bandan, a North Indian festival that honours the love between sisters’ and brothers’. It falls on a full moon in August every year.

My parents, aunts and uncles took a day off work, we a day off school. We dressed in traditional Indian clothes and jewelery, and gathered at one of the family homes.

My mum, aunts and I picked out beautiful rakhi’s weeks in advance. There is a range of choice, from simple threads to more extravagant ones with mirrors and gold fringes. A few years ago there was one that even played a popular Bollywood song. This year the fashionable rakhi’s have green, red, and shiny diamond-like stones on them. I usually chose the simplest threads and tied one around each of my brother’s and “cousin-brother’s” wrists. This gesture was to symbolise my love for them. In return my brothers’ had the duty of protecting me. From what I wasn’t always sure!

After I tied the rakhi, we hugged each other. I always whispered an awkward, “What are we doing guys? Do we need this string to symbolise our feelings?” I was the pain-in-the-ass, no fun girl who wasn’t into rituals, or Bollywood kitsch for that matter because it was over-done and the dances were corrupted versions of classical dances. So after the hugging, we fed each other sweets that my mum and aunts had prepared over the last week or two. My brothers’ then proudly offered me envelopes packed with notes.

Then it was my mum and aunts’ turn. They would tie rakhi’s around their “cousin-brother’s” wrist. He was the only one in Lusaka. They sent the others to India by mail, without fail.

My dad received his two rakhi’s in the mail, usually in good time. Since his sisters lived elsewhere it was my job to tie them. I got two envelopes from him as well.

Once it was all done, we’d have a big meal together, and spend the rest of the day together.

When I left Z at 16, I forgot all about it. One July, my mum called to remind me about it. She asked if I’d sent all the boys a rakhi.  I replied that I hadn’t so she quickly bought some on my behalf.

On the day, she called to say that my little brother refused to wear it since it was my mum’s choice, and not my initiative. I was taken-aback. I had no idea that this really meant anything to him, or to any of them.

I immediately apologised and ever since, I’ve made a special effort. I don’t always send them a rakhi in the mail, but I call or at least email.

This year, my mum only “reminded” me about it yesterday. There is no way I can get them rakhi’s in time. Phone calls will be in order, and a promise of more planning and organising for the years to come.

In my mum’s typically thoughtful and unimposing manner, she says “I’ve sent you a rakhi that L can tie around R’s wrist, if you guys want to do that of course.” I can’t wait to see the mini-rakhi!

My brothers, (cousins and brothers-in-law), are dearer to me than I can express. I do in fact feel safe, supported and strong when they are around. So why not have a special day that celebrates the bond between sisters and brothers?

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Links I came across:

How to make a rakhi
Buy a rakhi on-line!

Restorative day

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With slight fever, a head ache, and general fatigue my first thought is “rest day”. That is with respect to asana of course. A typical Ashtanga practice is out of the question the way I am feeling. My muscles and joints feel like they have sat through a ten-hour flight. It’s a holiday weekend so there is no help from the ayi. L, R, and M are all a bit sick too. The children need to eat and have their diapers changed regardless of my dull aches and malaise. There is a feeling of stagnation, as though prana isn’t getting to the extremities, heels, arches, fingers, knuckles…(I think I developed plantar fasciitis, same as Nanu and mum, after the bed rest and immense weight gain during pregnancy) The practice has kept it at bay so far. So a rest day, and there have been a few too many in the last two weeks doesn’t seem to be the best solution.

A twenty to thirty minute restorative session is. Long and gentle breathing. One to three minutes in each position. Sun salutations or not, (today is not), any “lunge” types asanas, kneeling postures especially with the toes curled under, a long down dog, child’s pose, pigeon, relaxed baddha konasana including while on the back, a gentle supine twist on both sides, and whatever else comes up along the way. Some viparita karani or legs up the wall. A nice long savasana.

Such a short and simple session can be balancing and invigorating. I seem to have some life in my arches and toes again. Headache all gone.

Savasana confessions

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Savasana aka corpse pose, final relaxation, or just “take rest” as Pattabhi Jois used to say, is usually practiced at the end of a yoga session. Lie on your back. Let your legs separate slightly and roll out. Keep your arms along your body with the palms facing up. Allow the floor to support your weight fully. Let the breath be natural. A nice little exercise to do for a few minutes is to watch your belly rise and fall as you breathe in and out; even to use the words as a mantra, “rise, fall, rise, fall…..” or whatever words work for you. Then let go of all that too.

Savasana was never really the focus or end goal of my practice. I definitely enjoyed being in it. Over time, after an hour and a half, sometimes longer of a full-on ashtanga session I certainly realised the need for it. With some guidance from experienced teachers, the deep, grounding calm from being fully in it became a necessary conclusion to a practice. As Paul Dallaghan, my principle teacher often says, his day is different, more agitated if for some reason savasana was rushed. I didn’t mind skipping a pose or two to have time for a long relaxation, the kind that allows the heart rate to slow down, the sweat to dry, the muscles to relax, and any nervous tension to settle. The stillness was rejuvenating.

Then during the first trimester of my twin pregnancy in 40C Indian heat, things changed a bit. My intense morning sickness meant that I only made it on my mat in the evenings once the sun had gone down. Fatigue rendered short and simple sessions. Savasanas had become fifteen minute to half an hour naps! The second and what lasted of the third trimester I spent in bed rest; so lots of savasana! I continued with a simple pranayama practice while lying down. This was great to ease sleepless nights. Again the savasana after that turned into much needed sleep.

I gave birth at seven months gestation after spending a few weeks in hospital hooked up to an IV. The medication was supposed to control the contractions. After the emergency delivery Leila and Rahul were whisked away to the NICU before I even got to see them. They were tiny and needed support from machines to live. That’s when the stress and adrenaline in my system kicked in, and it had to in order for me to get through the next few months. It was necessary for me to spring back into the busy Hong Kong world of traffic, lights, sounds, long days at the NICU filled with schedules, spreadsheets, worry, fear, good days, bad days; nights expressing milk, washing. labeling, freezing many milk bottles. This was day in and out for six weeks. Savasana? No way.

I honestly don’t remember when I started my practice again; ashtanga lite of course. I think it was after both L and R came home. It was also the six-week safe marker to begin practice again after giving birth. With two babies to take care of practice happened once, maybe twice a week, mainly when Maher was in HK over the weekend and he managed to convince me to take the time for myself. A session was about half an hour-long, and if there was a savasana it was either a one minute forced and agitated experience, or a ten minute nap. Many times the practice was a ten minute “savasana” on the mat! This was only possible because I had my mum and mother-in-law helping out with R and L.

I finally understood what it was like for many of my students who dreaded, even feared savasana, the ones who twitched nervously and those who just rolled up their mats and left. When the babies were eleven months old, by which time we had already moved back to Chengdu, and there was no more real impending health worry, the four of us and a group of friends went to Koh Samui for a week-long holiday. I took a couple of classes at Yoga Thailand. The first morning I arrived late. I felt like everyone in the room could feel my nervous energy and hear my minds voices racing through whether Maher was able to handle the two crawling all over the hotel room on his own, whether they needed diaper changes, whether I had washed and sterilized enough milk bottles. How was he going to get them both to sleep? And what about him? When is he going to be able to eat, drink, run, or practice, and have a minute?” It’s not easy to handle the two babies at the same time. It was not about leaving the babies in someone elses care because I did that since they were born. This was supposed to be my time to relax and be “free” of that for a couple of hours. Everyone around me had been in retreat for more than a week already. They were calm, focused, in the moment. In this quiet space, my inner voices were screaming. If I was walking through the bustling streets of HK no one would even notice these inner jumpings of my mind.

I walked out of savasana. “The babies needed to nap. If they didn’t sleep they would be cranky all day.” I never walked out of a studio during savasana in my life, not in Beirut, Paris, Singapore, Shanghai….I did at YT. Was I out of my mind? Man was I glad Paul wasn’t there! When I rushed back to the room, L and R were sleeping in their cribs, Maher was practicing and listening to classical Indian music.

4 months later over Chinese New Year we went back in Koh Samui. This time I was generally more in control of my situation. L and R were already a year and two months old. I was confident that together we could handle the two babies on our own and Maher is one of few people who can singlehandedly take care of the two. One morning we went to Spa Samui for breakfast. There was the usual morning yoga class in the outdoor shala for their guests who are doing a detox/ fast. I was only walking past the class, but I felt my body tense up. My pace quickened. The thought of having to listen to a teacher calmly, and then actually follow through with the instructions scared me. I wanted to run. By extension, there was no way I could be teaching a class in such a state. Self practice is different entirely, especially if it is in my living room and I can go in and out of it as the need arises.

Other than that little episode it was a wonderful, much needed holiday, Back in Chengdu, I managed to let go a little. The stress of taking care of the children eased. More often than before, my head was above water. Around that time I read The world needs savasana, an article by a teacher at YT, Elonne Stockton. It made sense, and helped steer me back on track savasana wise. Things slowly seemed to be falling into place again. My 5 days a week practice has become a slightly more intensive version of ashtanga lite. Teaching will come when the time is right. Savasana is happening again. Something clicked and it’s wonderful. Other than me feeling more balanced after a good savasana, modeling this simple way of taking time out to relax and regroup to R and L is invaluable.

Me…start a blog?

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Over the last two years my world has revolved around only a few things, mainly taking care of Leila and Rahul. So to start a blog now seems a bit strange. What could I possibly have to say? It might seem outrageous, but I don’t know which regimes are being toppled over, I haven’t seen photos of the effects of the recent earthquake in Japan, I don’t know what yoga workshops are on in the region, don’t  know if Federer is still kicking ass, or who presented at the Bookworm literary festival, or anything for that matter. That’s why when I told Maher I was starting this blog his reaction was to ask what I wanted to say?!

Only five years ago I had no idea what a blog was until a couple of  friends in Chengdu complained that they couldn’t access blogspot. A number of blogging sites can not be accessed here in China. When I was in Hong Kong for the birth, bed rest and fast wireless meant lots of time on the internet, so the interest started. But it was only when L and R were five months old and we returned to Chengdu that I started to get into it. It was also the time that my mum returned to Zambia. I came upon some blogs that mums of twins (MoT) wrote about their lives.  For the first time in a long time I felt like I could relate to some people. They wrote how exhausted they were, how they only bathed their babies a couple of times a week, rarely dressed them in anything other than pyjamas….I didn’t feel bad anymore that L and R didn’t go out everyday. They weren’t the only ones. To have them both ready to go out meant nappies changed, both well fed, not too tired, and a big diaper bag full of provisions, some exhaustion as well! I remember a father blogging about how his two-year old twin girls were finally sleeping through the night, most of the time anyways. So my two waking up a few times each every night meant I was still in the norm. We were not likely to get much sleep for a while though.  One mum wrote about her birth story, which was very similar to mine. It included flights, hospital stays for both mum and babies, lots of pumping, stress, fear, relief. Then there was one couple that blogged about their micro premature twins birth, Neonatal ICU stay including all the medical details, the obsession with weight gain, the monitors, breathing, digestion, good days, bad days, etc. They were born much earlier than L and R,  and both made it! It wasn’t the most fun blog I read, but I could relate to a lot of it and realised that I had to deal with this part of R and L’s life one day…soon. There were many funny posts as well like this  one MoT who wrote something called One baby envy! Others complaining about the silly questions they got when they took their twins out.  If I get started on the questions and comments I get in Chengdu I won’t stop. I’ll save that for another day. Other mums of multiples (MoM) were bitching about how J Lo could look perfect so soon after she had her twins. They were on the cover of PEOPLE magazine sometime in 2008.

I related to these parents and it helped with the isolation I sometimes felt being in China without my family and with no experience with babies whatsoever. Neither of my brothers or brothers in law have children. Friends? One has a son in Zambia who I have not yet met. Holding another friend’s tiny baby in Lebanon a couple of times was the extent of my experience. I had a few parenting books. But they only briefly covered twins if at all. But we were together, The four of us. That was our main source of strength. I had help from people in Chengdu of course. L and R ‘s ayis are superwomen who take care of everything for us. A friend as close as I imagine a sister can be was strong and present when I needed her most, now nursing her own baby. Another lent me lifesaving books at every stage along the way  And many others…. So I can’t really complain!

In addition to relating to other mums and dads, I found a lot of useful information and many tips on these blogs: storage of large quantities of diapers, wet wipes, food etc is a must. There was a list with the best double stroller options. There were short videos of calm mums simultaneously feeding their babies. I never figured out the tandem burping. R and L were not often on the same schedule anyway.

So even though I live in this tiny world of eating, playing, bathing, now crazy exploring and still sleepless nights, I feel like I am above water, some of time at least. My blog is an attempt at sharing some stories. Maybe a new mum or MoT will come across it and feel she can relate, find some useful information, or just have a laugh. I would be glad to contribute to that somehow.  These are stories for R and L to read one day if they want to. And if nothing else friends and family can keep up with our lives in China or wherever.

The other day I read a blog about the therapeutic effects of blogging. That did it for me, a few minutes later I signed up! Not really, but it made me realise that every time I put down my thoughts they rarely came out negative or depressive, but rather I managed to find the “funny” in things…now that I am not sinking all the time of course! It reminded me of a phrase from a song my dad often used to say to his not so smiley teenage daughter: “When you smile the whole world smiles with you….When you cry, you cry alone.”