Ever tried moving with small children? It’s like trying to run a marathon while pulling a wagon of cats behind you. Packing one box takes hours. I don’t know why, it just does. Every item requires an explanation as to why you have to pack it up. You end up saying things like, “No, I’m not giving all your toys away, I promise. Please put that back. Are you helping me?”

Today, IJ was dying to help me with the move. I resisted because I knew exactly how I wanted things packed and where I needed them to go and was sure IJ wasn’t in synch with my plans, but he was getting his feelings hurt, so I gave in. “Look, do you really want to help? Then take all the socks and underwear and throw them into the different boxes.” I labeled each box with all of our initials and began folding the larger items and placing them in the appropriate boxes. IJ was thrilled to help and for a while (about 5 minutes) he was totally engaged. But like a fish that sees a shiny object, IJ got distracted. “Hey, Mommy, I’m making a game out of this job!” He yelled excitedly. I glanced his way and saw IJ flinging my thong underwear like rubber bands toward the boxes. One right after another streaks of pink, black, and various days of the week flew across the room, landing on the floor, the tops of boxes and into the apartment kitchen. IJ had this look of triumph on his face as he popped each pair into the air. Dear Lord, what kind of freak am I raising? My first instinct was to thwart IJ’s game in an effort to encourage forward progress with the packing, but since I’m supposed to be practicing equanimity this week, I thought I’d give it a try. I took a deep breath and restrained my first instinct to grab a flying thong in mid-air and yell, “Stop it!”

Since I haven’t gotten much actual yoga practice in this week because of our move and all (and the fact that I can’t locate my mat, but have found three--yes, three-- wine openers. Priorities.), I’ve been reading the book more and trying to put all the “other stuff” into practice. Instead of seeing week 3 as a total wash in terms of making a difference in the 40-Day program, I’m thinking maybe this week is exactly what it’s supposed to be for me; recognizing a need for equanimity in my life, not flipping out at the number of boxes piled in our living room or being overwhelmed by the never ending process of re-creating our own home, not taking my frustration out on my family, not feeling like a big fat failure because I made it to yoga only twice when I’m supposed to do 6 days of physical practice…A deep breath makes a difference. Now, if only I could find my underwear…

~ Sheri Joseph