Monday, July 16, 2012

Even Yogis Get The Blues

It's a truth universally acknowledged, that a mother during school holidays, must be in need of some distractions.

In my case - kiddie yoga, thoughtfully organised by my local council.

After trying to get in the building through the locked rear door, almost setting off alarms, which is always a good way to say hello, the Bombshell, Baldy Baby and myself front up for some 3-6 year old yoga.

I place our old yoga mat on the ground and the Bombshell promptly throws herself down on it and does a very respectable plank.

'Look at me, Mum,' she calls.

'Where did you learn that?' I ask her.

'Batman,' she replied.  Naturally.

She then starts following the instructor around the room, chatting non-stop.

'I'm on school holidays. You know I have two sisters.  I have a jumper my Gwan Jan sewed me.'

'A Gwanjan sewn jumper? What?' the poor girl asks.

'She means a knitted jumper, by her Grandma Jan,' I offer helpfully.

The instructor makes all the kids sit in a circle on the floor. The Bombshell is one of the eldest, and there are few that are pottering around in nappies.  I think she is a very brave woman.

'We will start by making the rules,' she tells them.  A very brave women,

'I think one rule should be that we stay on our mats, unless I say otherwise. Now does anyone else have a good rule?' she asks.

'You should always eat your dinner before going to bed,' pipes up a young lad in the front.

'Errr, yes that's a good one... not really for yoga though,' she says.

'When I ring this Tibetan prayer bell, I want everyone to immediately lie down,' she said.

Boooooonnnnnngggggg. Ten children immediately drop to the floor.  Amazing.

'Can I take my socks off?' asks a little girl.

'Yes, of course,' the instructor replies.

'Can I take my socks off?', asks the next kid.

'Yes,' she says.

'What about me? Can I take my sock...' a little boy starts to ask.

'Yes yes, you can all take your socks off,' she says.

'I don't want to take my socks off,' wails a little kid, not sure if it's a boy or girl to be honest.

'You can take them off if you want, or leave them on.  Whatever you want!,' she says a bit huffily. C'mon love, you've only had them five minutes. Try having them the entire school holidays.

'I'm going to give MY socks to MY mum,' the Bombshell tells the room.  Like anyone cares.

Boooooonnnnnngggggg. The kids drop to the floor. Truly astonishing.

So they start.  To her credit she has them doing salutations to the sun ("hello sun! hello earth!") and the tree pose ("I'm a banana tree") and then the boat pose, which I know I wouldn't have been able to do even before they sliced open my stomach muscles. Three times.

'What animals do we see in the jungle', she asks the kids, as she 'rows' her boat.

'A tiger,' shouts one kid.

'A monkey,' shouts another.

'A bunny,' shouts my kid. Of course.

'Let's do a tiger pose,' the instructor tells the group, as she extends her leg behind her, neatly whacking a small child squarely in the face.  Well, the rule was to stay on the mat...

Then she has them do foot phones.  I don't think this is the traditional name for the pose somehow, but it was impressive to see a bunch of kids sitting with their feet up by their ears, supposedly telling their friends about their crazy jungle adventure (with scary bunnies).

Then - and logic fails her at this point - she says that they should all talk on someone else's foot phone.  One small boy immediately takes the opportunity to give a hefty kick to the kid sitting next to him.  The Bombshell, teachers pet she is, has claimed her pozzie next to the instructor from the minute she walked in.  So it was the teacher's poor luck to have the Bombshell's foot stuck in her face.  There was no bath last night, and I suspect those socks came off the floor rather than out of the drawer.

Then, in another authentic yoga moment, she asks all the kids to do their best 'Darth Vadar' breathing. They all do really well at that one.

Back in the circle, she has them sit down, legs apart, to make a 'magical stew' which they all stir.

'What shall we put in our magical stew", she asks.

'Pepper,' says one kid.  'It makes your teeth strong and healthy.' Hmmm ok.

'Salt,' says the next kid. 'To make it salty.'  Ok.

'Carrots,' says another. 'They make you big and strong.' Yup.

'Pork,' says one kid, upsetting at least two families in the room. 'It gives you fast muscles.'

'Honey,' says my kid. 'It makes you brave and strong.'  Of course.

The class was nearing the end, and she decides it would be a good idea to have them finish in the corpse pose. But she's not quite sure what to call it, so she says they will all be 'corpses, dead people.  We will all lie still like we are dead.  Like corpses...'  Way to start them having nightmares lady.

Once they're laying down, she comes along and puts rocks on their tummies.

'No throwing rocks,' she cautions the boys in the front.

Dead people don't throw rocks, love.

'We're going to lie still and breathe for ten seconds,' she tells the group.

'Ten, nine, eight...'

The Bombshell doesn't even last until six.  She's lying in a contorted pose, it must have been a horrible death. She is wiggling around. 'Mum, look at my rock,' she says as it slipps off her tummy.

Ten seconds.  She can't lie still for ten seconds.

I'm going to have to get one of those Tibetan prayer bells.


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