Browsing Tag

present moment

The real yoga

My daughter is almost as tall as me.
Her feet are bigger than mine.

She’s 11. I’m 43.

Last year she was 4. At least that’s how it feels…
Oh, the swift pace of this crazy life!

And this parenting malarkey. I’ve not yet nailed it – have you?
Everyday – a new lesson, a new guilt.
A daily reminder that I am human.

This for me is the real yoga.
Forget the headstands, your crow obsession or the depth of your backbend.

Real yoga is about living real life. In all its messy, fast-moving glory.

Can you hold on when the ride gets tough? Can you drop the judgement? Can you sit with yourself and rest in the not knowing…

Because kids will get taller. Their feet will get bigger. Their cheeks no longer chubby.

They’ll borrow your make-up, your money, your car. They’ll make you laugh and smile and drive you bat sh@t crazy.

And they’ll grow before your eyes in what feels like record speed.

So can you pause for a moment – hand on heart – and acknowledge how far you’ve come.

Drop the judgement, drop the worry and drink it all in.

Because each new phase is a reminder of this beautiful cycle of life.

Our biggest yoga practice of all.

By Cheryl Parsons on September 26, 2023

Parenthood

Something has been happening to me over the last while. It’s a feeling of almost coming full circle. Like I’m finally settling into a newer version of myself. A little battered round the edges perhaps, but one that still bears a strong resemblance to the old me, except with two crazy kids in tow. And if I had to put a title on it, I’d say it was a feeling of ‘becoming mum.’

By Cheryl Parsons on March 5, 2017

Parenthood

Short Circuit

It’s 4.37am. I mutter a string of expletives as I haul myself out of bed. I spend the next 45 minutes nipping in and out, trying to encourage Henry to have more shut-eye, before he decides he would rather be up for the day. He gives me that grin that says, quite frankly, Mum, it would be boring to go back to sleep. But instead of smiling, I find myself crying. Hot, fat tears rolling down my face, quickly, without warning. I’m cross. Darn cross at the sheer exhaustion of it all. Cross at the fact the day is beginning at sparrow fart yet again. Cross at the fact that I’m already thinking ahead to how wrecked I’ll feel later. Cross over the guilt I’m feeling for even feeling annoyed, when so many people would give anything to be in my shoes.

By Cheryl Parsons on September 26, 2016

Parenthood

Break from the norm

Lately I’ve noticed myself using three certain words a heck of a lot. Now, before you close this page for fear this might be some sort of love story about the husband and I – it’s not those three words. Nor is it the three words that make up the abbreviation FFS, although I do confess to letting those slip from time to time too.

By Cheryl Parsons on November 15, 2015

Parenthood

Let’s get physical

“That’s a lame excuse for a press up if ever I saw one! Look at those arms shaking! You’ve got NO strength anymore!! And look at those thighs – get squatting NOW!”

It’s a hot, humid morning. I’m sweating it out in bootcamp in the battle against the jiggly bits. At this point, I need to highlight that the above dialogue is my inner voice talking and not the wonderful, encouraging instructor. Yes, over the last few weeks, my ego has been giving me a right old battering. “What’s the point?” it probes. “You’ve got no time!” it taunts. “You need to put in way more effort than that!”

By Cheryl Parsons on October 14, 2015

Parenthood

Phased and confused

“When will it get better?” asks the weary husband, as we debate the ins and outs of why Henry might be waking like clockwork at 4.30am every morning. “I’m sure it’s just a phase,” I reply as I catch a glimpse of my bedraggled self in the mirror. Ah! “Just a phase.” Those three little words. If I had a pound for every time I heard them (or uttered them to someone else), then I would be a very rich woman!

By Cheryl Parsons on October 7, 2015

Parenthood

Green Grass

“I feel like I’m 100 years old!” laments the husband. It’s 3am and we’re lying awake just after Henry’s feed. While he’s back in his cot sleeping peacefully again, Molly has started coughing in her room, interrupting the possibility of sleep yet again. We’re tired. So. Dog. Tired! And in the wee small hours we begin to debate many things: will Henry ever sleep through? Is Dubai the healthiest place to bring up our children? Is our AC full of dust? Will there be a housing crash soon?

By Cheryl Parsons on October 1, 2015

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