Speaking the language of yoga was beneficial for everyone in my family.
After that class, I was easier on myself. “If it feels like the right thing to do, turn on the radio. But if you think checking the news is going to up your stress level, feel free to keep the radio turned off.”
And I was easier on others. That night, when I told my 5-year-old to brush his teeth, I peppered our conversation with terms of endearment.
“Get up on the stepstool, honey, and tell me if you want the Paw Patrol Bubble Yum Toothpaste or the Minion Mint?”
And to my daughter: “Hey, princess, remember to put your empty lunch containers in the sink, sweetie.”
With my older kids, my kids-in-law, and my husband, I sprinkled on the sweetness with a light touch, so as not to make them think an alien had somehow taken over my brain. Just a little “honey” tacked on to the beginning or end was a gentle reminder that my suggestions and instructions are coming from a place of love.
As I enjoined my family to do this or that in yoga speak more often, they actually started to listen.
“You might want to take the trash out as you’re leaving,” I said with a smile—and bit my lip to keep myself from adding a snarky “before our kitchen starts smelling like a landfill!”
“What do you think about finally getting rid of the old car seat, so the garage looks less crowded?”
“I wonder if your morning might go easier for you if you packed your Color War shirt in your backpack tonight. How does that sound to you?”
It’s going to take me some time and patience to master camel pose, but I will definitely be going to a yoga again. Yes, it’s good for my core, but more importantly, it’s good for my family.
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