I did yoga the other day…like at an actual gym, with actual other people.
Really, I just needed to get out of the house with A and our Y has child care and free classes for members. (Score!) As we were eating breakfast I looked over the list of possible classes that day and realized if I hurried (read: left that very moment) I would be able to make it on time.
Kris. What a dear. He asked what he could do to help and I turned over all A responsibilities over to him while I dashed madly around the house, partly to gather my things and partly to get in a pre-yoga workout. I threw everything into the car and I was about halfway to the gym when I realized… I’m really bad at yoga. Like, really bad. I took a class once and after that just bought a DVD to do at home in private…which I did… once. See the theme?
Reasons Randi is bad at yoga:
Let’s start with the fact I’m 20 weeks pregnant. Let’s also just for honesty’s sake state the fact that when not 20 weeks pregnant I’ve never been good at it.
I have a broken arm. It’s not actually broken…but it was as in I was paralyzed when I was a baby and should have had no use of my left arm. (Quick side note: I was miraculously healed through prayer and am a complete medical mystery, but that is totally another story for another day.) Despite having full mobility of my arm, because of how long I was unable to move it initially, my bones locked in place and my arm is permanently bent. I also can not rotate it fully or stretch it out fully. Now, this led to kids calling me “helicopter arms” growing up (JERKS!) and people asking me about twice a year, “Did you break your arm.”
I have a chronic lung *disease* (for lack of better word) and it affects my breathing.
Okay, now that you are up to date on my full medical history…let me refresh you. I am driving to yoga, the sport of skinny people with beautiful straight lines and deep breathing and I realize I don’t qualify for any of those requirements. BUT I was halfway there and I really really wanted some peace and quiet…so I decided to keep going.
I pull in to the parking lot and realize I forgot my water bottle. Quickly glancing around the car I spot a Wendy’s (medium but let’s call a spade a spade: BIG GULP GIGANTIC) cup half filled with lemonade. The cup has only been sitting in the car for a few days and it’s my only option. I grab it, dump the contents, grab the baby (keep her) and make a beeline for the front door. Flustered, because I’m totally late, I drop her in child care, fill my BGG cup with water and high tail it to class.
I open the door and all the beautiful skinny people are perfectly posed as trees or something and I noisily make my way to the middle of the class (because that was the only spot open on the floor), remove my shoes and roll out my mat. Immediately we are to plank and immediately the teacher looks at me and says, “You are favoring your right arm.”
Here we go…
She comes over to help me straighten out my arm: as did my ballet teacher, the kids in 5th grade, my soccer coach AND EVERY OTHER PERSON WHO CAN SEE I HAVE A BENT ARM… and I launch into my elevator speech. Literally, I am still planking and turn my head and say, “My arm doesn’t straighten out because I was paralyzed when I was born.” Really, how do you explain something like this. #INeedABetterElevatorSpeech
She looks at me, confusion all over her face, and says, “Any other injuries I should know about?” “Yeah, I’m pregnant.” I responded.
Immediately embarrassment washes over me in waves (still planking) because I jut referred to my pregnancy AS AN INJURY. Hi, I’m 20 weeks pregnant, you know, injured. Hi meet my fetus, oops, I mean my injury. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!?
She looks a little bit like I hit her in the face or something and starts to fumble her words, “Do you know what you’re doing?” To be fair, I am pretty sure she was referring to yoga during pregnancy but really…what an open ended question.
“Lady, I showed up 15 minutes late, drinking out of a Wendy’s BGG cup and rolled out a yoga mat that has clearly been shredded by an animal (thank you, Mr. Chuckles)… does it look like I know what I am doing?”
I really said, “I have no idea.” Again, so open ended.
For the record:
Things in which Randi has no idea what she is doing:
Raising small children
Making dinner on a consistent basis
She promised to help me and told me not to arch my back (pretty sure I had stopped planking) and then APOLOGIZED to the class because she had gotten so distracted by me and my injuries.
I hadn’t even gotten to mention my shoddy breathing. I felt like maybe I should apologize to the class too, but it’s yoga…no talking, more breathing.
The rest of the class went pretty well…except when I had to do the “Eagle” and she told me to stop with the arms and just hold them in front of me.
Broken arms don’t make good eagles. Seriously, I showed Kris the move later and he said, “What are you doing??” Finally, we get near the end of class and she tells us all to lie down on our mats and shut our eyes. I thought it was another move until like five minutes in (after I kept opening my eyes to look at everybody else) and I realize we are all supposed to be meditating or in my mommy world NAP TIME! And suddenly, I was thrilled. I was so thrilled I couldn’t concentrate. I get to lie here, albeit on the floor next to strangers, for 10 minutes and call it a work out! BEST DAY EVER! I kept listening to the Insanity class next door shouting and jumping and banging and I thought, “You suckers, you are so in the wrong class. We get NAP TIME!”
And then all of a sudden my thoughts were interrupted with the remembrance that when I dropped A off in child care I never took the bracelet with me. The bracelet is what allows me to get her back, the bracelet has her special number on it that verifies I’m her parent. I left it sitting right on the front of the desk for ANYBODY to take 45 minutes ago! BUT NAP TIME. But A could get kidnapped. BUT NAP TIME. But A could get kidnapped. But maybe A has already been kidnapped? Oh dear sweet Jesus, please don’t let A have been kidnapped. Also, please don’t let her be kidnapped.
And…end yoga class.
I so can’t wait to go back!
PS. A did not get kidnapped and they let me take her home. Yay for happy endings!
PPS. After class I apologized for being late
(and I might have blamed it on having a one year old… I am so that mom) and the teacher invited me back with a big gracious smile and told me, “You need yoga.” Yes, yes I do. And, nap time.