Children read their mothers like they read their favourite bedtime stories.  There’s not much you can get past them, and rightfully so.  You can think you are hiding an emotion from them, but they know that you’re not yourself, and they remind you when you’re not being your authentic self.  As someone who is striving to live as a householder yogi, motherhood has been my best guru. 

Being a mother is “Yogas Chitta Vritti Nirodah” in action.  Let me explain.  The Sanskrit means, “Restraining or slowing down the thoughts in the mind, to experience yoga.”  Motherhood requires me to stop... pause... think about what I am about to say or do next that will influence my children for the rest of their lives.  “Will shouting or getting angry help me get to the truth of who made the mess in the living room?  Will freaking out only teach my kids to freak out at similar situations?  How would I want them to deal with a situation like this?” I must live my life with mindfulness and awareness... and constantly improve my abilities as my children improve with theirs.

Motherhood requires me to breathe.  Pranyama has been my best friend in the worst of times.  Amidst the tears and tantrums, when I want to pull my hair out and throw a tantrum myself, I remember to breathe.  Sithali -- the cooling breath -- is my particular favourite as it teaches me to chill out and cool down.  Getting steamed up is very “un-yogic,” and my children absolutely remind me of when I am being “un-yogic.”  I get bugged, but I also get reminded to chill out and breathe. 

Motherhood forces me to tell the truth.  I tell them the God-honest truth -- even when it’s hard.  However, in doing so, you choose your words, actions and timing very wisely (another yogic practice).  For example, it’s best to show your kids the importance of brushing their teeth in front of a mirror, right after they eat an Oreo cookie.  They will 100% understand that you don’t lie about sugar being bad for their teeth ; )...

Motherhood makes you keep your sense of humour intact.  Throughout all of it, your kids are the cutest, most wonderful things that happen to you.  I can’t even imagine what my life was like before they came into it.  Even when your whole house is covered in mess or dirt or pen marks or food or accidents... their little faces of “Oops... now what is Mom going to say,” makes me want to just cuddle them.... right after they’ve helped me to clean up their messes. 

I am like my children’s favourite bedtime story. I may not be treated wtih care and am definitely not in pristine condition.  My pages are torn, corners folded, and I am never kept neatly on a shelf.  However, I’m read over and over again, and kept very close by.  It reminds me to keep my life as an open book... a funny story of how truth and love are the most important parts of being in an imperfect yet wonderful world.