Declaration of Independence

Declaration of Indepence, courtesy of MS Clipart
"Kind sirs, I am not at all sure if we have used enough paper. Could we perchance crumple a few more and see to what effect they may have upon our revolutionary hindquarters?"

I laid on the floor with my legs splayed apart and my arms relaxed away from my sides. My yoga mat was in a warm, sunny spot on the rug. I softened my face and focused on my breath. My body felt heavy; I gently guided my inner gaze to my third eye. Then Ian pooped.

“Moooommmmmmy!! I pooopped!”

“Oh honey, that’s great!” I softly yelled, still on my back. “Do you need help wiping?”

I closed my eyes tighter. He poops every single day exactly two minutes after going up to his room for our daily enforced quiet time. MY quiet time.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

I kept my eyes closed. I kept breathing. It is not easy to continue deep and relaxing breathing as your blood pressure is rising and perhaps some negative thoughts about your offspring are pushing into your ever so gentle, loving awareness.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

I heard an abnormally loud rustling of toilet paper and an intense discussion with the five year old about how to properly roll up said paper into a ball large enough to both wipe all excrement off your behind and clog the toilet.

“Everything okay?” I asked, louder this time.

“No! There’s barely any toilet paper left, Mom,” said the five year old, who was still in the bathroom providing moral support.

This information was not surprising. But I didn’t  move from my mat for fear of breaking the spell. I played dead.

Then I heard the deft unhooking of the child “lock” on the bathroom cabinet under the sink. More conversation. Plastic wrapping being unwrapped. Someone getting the roll onto the holder. And finally, a triumphant flush.

Breathing in. Breathing out.

I slowly opened my eyes. Two small, tentative bottoms bounced down the stairs because, well, quiet time was officially now over. I sat cross-legged with my hands in prayer mudra. I folded forward and whispered “Namaste.”

I bow to you, children of mine, and your peaceful, amazing declarations of independence.


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