Erleichda: A Lesson in Teaching Yoga.

On Monday I taught my first full-length yoga class! Earlier in the day, I said to N, “I think I could be a really great yoga teacher!” I was reviewing my sequences for the umpteenth time and felt secure and excited about it. Flash forward to coming home after teaching the class and telling N, “remember when I said I could be great? The universe must have had a pretty good laugh at that!” The class did not go as well as intended.

Continue reading “Erleichda: A Lesson in Teaching Yoga.”

Typing: Sunny Friday Vibes.

One day after typing, “I’m going to type a little something and post a little something every day” (basically), I didn’t do it the next day. Typical me. Continue reading “Typing: Sunny Friday Vibes.”

That ain’t no etch-a-sketch.

As a foreword: I intended to publish this reflection exactly a year from the day we found out I was pregnant. I wrote all of this out and waited patiently for October 17. On October 16, I double-checked the dates and realized I had missed it. I found out on October 10. I was upset with myself enough to not post it at all, which is (was) a shame. Motherhood is teaching me lots of little lessons, namely to stop being so damn hard on myself. Proceed.  Continue reading “That ain’t no etch-a-sketch.”

Book Reviews: Oliphant, Slade, and Party of One.

Last year I resolved to read 50 books. I read a whopping 16 books total. I even solicited many wonderful people to recommend books for me to read in 2017. It was a magnificent list of books I would not normally read. I did not read a single one. My 2017 reading collection was mostly birth and parenting books, accented by a few light reads.

So many sad, blank books.

This year, I am back to reading with a vengeance. At least for now. Here are my first three books of 2018 and my thoughts:

Continue reading “Book Reviews: Oliphant, Slade, and Party of One.”

Writing: One word at a time.

It’s hard to read what you’ve written over a decade ago and be sure it is more witty, fearless, and fun than anything you could produce at this moment. To read what you wrote when you were unattached, ignorant, and for all intents and purposes, fearless. To realize you now live in the shadows of social media voyeurism. It’s like being on the outside looking in at what you once had and think you’ve lost. I was once so in love with myself I wanted to document my every thought, lyric, quote, and poorly put together outfit. I miss that blind self-love. That misguided narcissism. I remember writing I wanted to change the world and believed I could. Where does belief like that go? Does it get buried under social norms? Fossilized under the pressure to be likable? Obliterate by the desire to blend in? Continue reading “Writing: One word at a time.”

Harlow: A birth story.

**Warning for explicit language & skin. I refuse to call anything to do with pregnancy and birth, gross, because it’s not. It’s beautiful and one of the coolest things humans can do. That being said, if bodily fluids are not your thing, this is not for you.** Continue reading “Harlow: A birth story.”