Hot Yoga

I have been working hard and enthusiastically to tone and shape up my body after pregnancy and birth. Turns out it’s not enough. Circumstantial developments continue to throw new challenges. 

I went to hot Hatha yoga class today. Michael was home and could hang with Lake. Some men’s morning time. I’m feeling pretty good. I’m on my own. I’m going to a yoga class. I’ll get to do a whole yoga session. I’ve been doing my homework, my daily yoga practice, my planks. I’m looking good. I’m feeling strong. I’m balancing on one leg and getting good lift out of my core. I may not be at my pre-pregnancy weight, but I’m fitting back into my pre-pregnancy wardrobe and doing great with all the poses. 

Then, it turns out I put my yoga mat in the one place where the sun moved from between the curtains to light up my mat. Everyone else seemed to know better and situated their mats further back into the room, or even up against the cool-retaining concrete walls. Not me, I was over by the window. I started out in the shade, but before too long I was in the sun beam. It was super hot. I moved my mat.  The sunbeam moved to follow me. It was burning hot. It was at least 10F hotter where I was in the sun compared to the rest of the room. And the room was hot to begin with. It was hot yoga. Hot Hatha yoga. I begin to weep. 
Hot yoga. Isn’t the hot of hot yoga enough? Nope. It’s über hot yoga for me! At the end of class my mat is the one mat in the entire room with a beautiful sun beam right smack dab in the middle of it. Filling my mat up with light. And hot heat. My sweat soaked mat. Tears are streaming down my face. My hot red face. My sunshine face. My sweat soaked face. Body. Clothes. 

My clothes. So just when I can fit back into all my old jeans and I’m feeling pretty good about myself Life ups the ante. I wished things felt as good on the inside as they are beginning to look and feel on the outside. So, yesterday I went to see a physical therapist who specializes in pelvic floor rehabilitation. Turns out I have a lot of work to do. I have a little bit of every kind of thing wrong with me that a person can have after a long and arduous but ultimately uncomplicated vaginal childbirth. Sprains, strains, tears, scar tissue, laxity and spasms. I feel broken even as I’m having a great physical yoga practice. It’s the mental-emotional component that’s resisting the depth and magnitude of the recovery work. I seriously underestimated the total impact that carrying and birthing our beautiful Lake would have. And I’m completely filled with gratitude to have helped to create and share in his existence. I love you Lake. Alright, let’s do this!

Lake rooting for me with his signature Fight the Power pose.

New day, Zoo day

New day, Zoo day

Every day is a new day at the zoo. That was an apt tag line for the Woodland Park Zoo a while back. It’s so true. Every time I visit the zoo a different animal seems to take the highlight by being outrageously amusing. Or “Tot’s adorbs!” as one zoo goer was purportedly heard exclaiming.

 The same can be said for Lake Odin. Every day is a new day with Lake at my side. We adore our coordinating outfits to go with our coordinating lives. See, we basically go everywhere together and do everything together right now. Last night Lake went to his first concert: The Paperboys, doing an outdoor gig at the University Village. Beautiful summer evenings! Danceable music. We garnered a bundle of compliments on our “denim on denim” look!

In contrast to our matching outfits, our days are always different. Lake is officially 12 pounds and 24 inches on the physician’s scale yesterday. He’s growing so quickly, graduated from the K’tan “sling” position to the Baby Björn upright “looking-around” position for our daily tromping excursions. I’m already reminiscing about when Lake was a baby, and he’s only 10 1/2 weeks old. Here’s a photograph at the zoo a month ago, then us in our Royal Blues just this week at Greenlake, and finally an archival photograph highlighting our denim on denim trend:

Très 4. trimester chic!
Best twinset ever!
Denim on Denim
Today our theme turned out to be simply “everyday is a zoo, period.” This evening we took the bus to Belltown to attend the Pacific Northwest Ballet Summer outdoor performance at the Olympic Sculpture Park. I went with Auntie Lindsay, and the plan was to meet up with some friends and enjoy a no host picnic in the park, a mid-summer SupperClub social, having a wonderful evening of culture and views all the while

launching a SupperClub revival. Well, it wasn’t the tranquil romantic scene that I imagined where we were picnicing on the lawn, sipping beverages, nibbling tapas while the ballet dancerslept

 and swirled against the stunning panorama of nature. 

Calder’s Eagle
I wasn’t too far off, except… the event was a total zoo. It was very well attended with an impressive turnout; the space was overflowing. You were meant to wander the park, engaging with the space which would periodically host a pop-up dance performance in any of
five different  locations. In reality, you either swarmed with 500 other people to flow with the dance performances where you then couldn’t really see or you stayed put and really couldn’t see. Well, we did catch a few glimpses​ of Do. Not. Obstruct. 

, got a general impression. It was not particularly conducive to mingling and visiting with five other couples most of whom had babies. We were struggling to create a convivial space for exchanging a few words, meanwhile covering our babies from the bright setting sun, and getting shouted at by other viewers to sit down so they could seethe Do. Not. Obstruct. performance 

(mind you, you were meant to be walking around, taking in the scene, the artwork, the views, the performances at your leisure…).Maybe the shouters were part of the art. 

Many of my friends up and left as soon as they had arrived, and this was after battling traffic and parking, not a small feat in rush hour traffic.Props for showing up, bonus if you actually garnered some modicum of enjoyment from the ordeal. 

In short, it was situation ballet picnic FUBAR. 

As with the best zoo experiences, it usually comes after the gates close and the indoor exhibits are locked up for the night. The people and popcorn drift toward home, and the peace settles in. After the performances are over at eight o’clock this evening, nature returns to the center stage. Michael has joined us by this point. Pretty much everyone else had come and gone. The three of us have a romantic date on the North Meadow overlooking the Sound. We catch up, heart-to-heart.The sun sets behind the Olympics, both of our homelands, which are glowing a golden periwinkle. Then it was night and we were heading home on the bus, this time hand in hand, feeling content and happy to be married. 

A perfect “zoo” day.