Yin Yoga and Kids

Uber Relaxing Day

I read a depressing quote on Instagram, "My mother gave up her dreams, so I could live mine." It made me gag a bit. I heard Shonda Rhimes on Oprah, and she was brilliant. She said women are always told it's admirable to sacrifice themselves for others, and actually thats the worst example to set for your children. Teach your kids to go for it, teach your kids to achieve, through example. And if you think about time with your children, well it's much more important to spend an hour of top quality time with them, then days on end of demonstrative dream abandonment.

Speaking of dreams and holding on to them, this week I had the strangest dream, I can't make sense of it. I was inseminated with sperm to have a baby for these old friends of mine, and then I did it again, soon after for another couple, but I didn't recognize them. I looked at the sperm before it went in, and I could see the life inside it. After I realized I was being inseminated for a second time, and would not know whose baby I had in me, I apologized, and they seemed to be OK.

Last week I went to Yin Yoga. I didn't know what to expect because I usually do Vinyasa. Yin yoga is a lot of laying around. In the usual class I attend, the temperature is soaring, and I drip with sweat. It puddles around me. There is maybe one man who sweats more than me. I get out of class feeling like a rock. After Yin, I think I burned 20 calories, tops, and it was probably due to my not consuming food for an hour and a half, but my mind was on fire.

What did I think about as the instructor reminded us to clear our minds? Well I thought of my kids. George has been doing great this past month in school, but the last couple days I've been approached when I pick them up at extension because he wont keep his hands off his junk. In addition to that, he has been really intent on showing "it" to people after he goes pee. So we have talks, "After you finish going, you pull up your trousers. Theeeen you can walk away from the urinal."

Monday I am giving a test in all my classes, so I have to grade over 100 exams before Wednesday, when we have a review session before finals. One of the classes I teach is a pre-set curriculum, created by one of those foundations you hear after most NPR shows. The idea is to combine algebra and statistics for students who want to  cram it all into one year, and have the aptitude and commitment. We meet every morning for an entire school year! At this point, I am feeling really fond of these students and were only midway through. I gain a deeper understanding from the classes I teach; I see how people are misplaced below their intellect because they aren't vocal, or become frustrated by time, or not understand how practice is critical to mastery.

These types of knowledge can be ingrained into students early on, but sometimes it happens later in life. I'm happy that right after splitting, I enrolled my kids in a school that will benefit them because  of the high standards and tight community. We might be living in our tiny apartment for longer than I aspire, but it's an advantage I want to give them. I love reading coaching, biographies, and self-help shit, and it's awesome to hear about successful people who remark on how their mother worked her ass off for them to go to a ritzy school (like Sonia Sotomayor) and thats why I think it's the greatest gift. Education, is what I afford my children.

I am not a great teacher at home, we don't practice writing or cutting. But in the words of my cousin, "I send my kids to school for that shit!" And my kids are at school a lot, they go from 8 to 5, most days. So when we are home, we do fun things, like tell stories, read books, sing songs, have cuddle-fest-2017.

That's the stupid thing about parenting, I don't live in a network. I don't live amongst a tribe, we are isolated people, and I am shooting from the hip. So I can read parenting books once in awhile, or talk with my friends who are elementary school teachers, but they are teachers, and understand the range, and so they are forgiving, everything is understandable. Because of this feeling of not not-too-certian-Im-doing-things-right, when a friend tells me they didn't know they couldn't use Tide laundry detergent or feed their baby eggs, I agree, How would they know!? Beyond the mommy blogs, that are too fucking extensive and jocular to use as a resource, where is a bullet point list of rules.

This morning, my son lost his TV privilege because he was being inappropriate with his potty jokes, so  he and I cooked pancakes while Kiki watched a cartoon on my computer. I found that to be the best punishment for him. He didn't care when it was - I'm taking away TV- because then he'd just play with his sister. They'd play Barbies; she'd direct him to be a variety of dolls, and he'd follow along up to a point, and then send her into hysterics by pretending a tornado is heading for Malibu and will destroy everything. However, when Kiki gets to watch TV without him, it burns him up.

This week I had to write my Cal Poly alumni newsletter update. The new dean and I are like this (I'm making the finger crossed!) He is a very nice man, and has written all my annoying letters of recommendation. When I wrote my update I said I am at a junction and I see three choices; commit to being an educator, go back to corporate data analysis, or pursue a PhD. There is a possibility of the universe dropping a different egg in my nest, but I can snuggle down for that one, with a time clock. There seems to always be a fork in the road, no matter where a person is in life.

My kids' school had a big fundraiser this weekend. And it included six hours of mandatory volunteering. "Mandatory volunteering" is a word combination that makes no sense to me. They should called it "forced unpaid work." It's a home tour, and my first three hours were spent working the gift shop. I loved it, working a cash register, and admiring people's thoughtful purchases, but then I spent three hours in the corner of some one's house where I told people fun facts about the hundred year old home, and had to remind them to keep their hands off shit, have booties on their feet, and stop taking pictures.

The school sends an email out to parents to remind them volunteering is mandatory because some people that send their kids here poop money. So it's not just a $300 fine they could incur but possibly loosing a spot for their child to attend. I don't feel bad sending my kids to palace where they might feel different. I think it will make them stronger. Drop off is a row of Land Rovers and a sea of hand bags that could add up to college education.

Have you ever heard of the saying "sandals to sandals?" Wealth lasts three generations. It even applies to the rich kids of instagram because of sustainability. If someone can make a mountain of cash, it will only deplenish, unless someone will be able to work hard enough to replenish. The earner, provides their children the greatest advantages, and they are then given a yellow brick road to success, their children are also given this yellow brick road, but have not witnessed the work required to attain, and have therefore been unable to show their children how it is attained. The grit has been lost. So the children born of them live without the stress of needing to earn, but at the same time  inadequate to earn. It's why Warren Buffet has to give all his money away, if he left it for his kids, he'd only leave a path of destruction.

When I told my dad I was thinking of getting a PhD, he was happy. But then I said, maybe I should look in New York, and he said, "Woah, Alicia, put on the brakes. You're going through so much! Wait a year." My kids have been through a looooot, and I think my dad is right. I can't do another big life-flop on them 1 year later. Plus letters of recommendation are a reeeeeeal son of a dick.

It's something to think about next time I stumble into to Yin Yoga. Today, a day I said I would't work, I spent all my time with my kids. We had such a wonderful evening. We did the conga around the apartment, our hands on our hips, singing, "shake your booty!" over and over. George was happy, he loved it! I just hope he doesn't do it at school tomorrow.

Highly recommend this book!