I’m Not at Power Yoga Class for the Physical Challenge. I Have That At Home With Four Kids.

This is the only time of day when I am not being physically mounted by either my son or husband.

Photo by Yan Krukau on Pexels

Hello neighbor! No need to pop out of that handstand, I’m just setting up. Gonna squeeze this lavender-scented mat right next to you. I once had my own, but I started using it as a diaper-changing station after I had twins. Who knew so many babies could fit onto one of these? Here’s my brand new crystal-infused water bottle. I’ll set it at the tip top of my station, perfect to drink spry sips between asanas. My old one really held onto the aftertaste of the breast milk I had to emergency pump on the subway last week. Now, I’ll lay this dishrag here. Ignore the crusties, those are just ancient grain cheerios, since my oldest currently insists he is gluten intolerant (He is not. However, he is lactose intolerant, which is why he keeps shitting his pants every morning after cereal).

Who knew “What brought you to the mat today? “ is a rhetorical question?I didn’t really want to come, but my marriage counselor has been telling me to go forever. I thought she was calling me fat, but it turns out she just thinks yoga would be better for my inner peace than the time I took eighteen Xanaxes just to step outside my own consciousness. And it would definitely be better for my self esteem than the time I suggested that me and my husband vacation at a swingers colony and he suggested we bring my mother-in-law.

I see it’s time to get into the lion’s breath warm-up. Love the idea of cleansing exhales of course, but I might not do the whole ocean lungs thing? We sound exactly like my son when he re-enacted a polyamorous sex scene with his sister’s Polly Pockets at a work dinner I hosted. I still need to talk to my husband about where he could have learned that.

I can tell from your matching Sweaty Betty set and day-of-the-week grippie socks that you come here often. I had to squeeze myself into this corset of a Lululemon crop top that I bought after my first child for my post-baby-weight body. Who knew I would have three more? Certainly not me! The print is so old that it’s newly back in style as a microtrend. That’s what it means when the top is too small right? Anyway, I’m not panting because this is hard. My top is so tight it’s pressing exhales out of me like an iron lung.

You look like you can hold boat pose in your sleep. How are you doing these vinyasas so silently? My breathing sounds like two poltergeists making love. I am working through some real physical discomfort here! No, not this warrior two sequence. I mean the bleeding mess in my armpit. There’s a skin tag in there my three-year-old keeps trying to pick off and eat.

At least these cat-cow flows feel amazing. I can admit I haven’t had physical freedom like this in years. Not only did my pelvis just realign in rag doll pose, but this is the only time of day when I am not being physically mounted by either my son or husband.

Time to meditate? Time to thank our bodies for getting onto the mat today? I can do better than that! I am grateful that the daycare didn’t make me pay for eyelash extensions today when my daughter cut off another students’ lashes. Top that, Sweaty Betty.

I am not convinced this class has unblocked my third eye center today, but I would consider returning if it means another full hour where I won’t have to show my husband how to boil water (again) or breastfeed screaming babies in succession like some sick roulette. My heart chakra hasn’t felt this open since my left nipple fell off.

Corpse pose seems a bit excessive after meditation, right? My body had adapted to two hours of sleep by this point. But since the lights are off, I might as well close my eyes and count to five: one for each dish I will have to cook tonight to appease every member of my family —

Was that me snoring? I swear, that’s just the noise I make when I am constructing a mental to-do list. But thanks anyway, Sweaty Betty, for wiping the drool off my cheek.

Swati Sudarsan has received support from Tin House, the Kenyon Review, Kweli Journal, and Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. Her work can be found in McSweeney’s, Catapult, and more. She lives in Oakland, CA and works as a public health scientist.

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I’m Not at Power Yoga Class for the Physical Challenge. I Have That At Home With Four Kids. was originally published in The Belladonna Comedy on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

This content was originally published here.

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