The question I'm asking myself today, on day twenty of my thirty day yoga challenge with You Tube yoga star Adriene Mishler, is, doesn't she know that Sunday is the day of rest?

When I dragged myself through to the living room this morning - motivated by the fact that within minutes my two Lads would be up and I'd undoubtedly lose the thread of peace I was currently clinging onto - I felt the tiredest I have done in a long while. I guess I'm at that stage, after an emotionally challenging time, when my body just goes, right . . . now missus, it's damn well time for you to take things sloooowww.

After the collapsed lung episode, the hubby seems to be getting stronger every day. Learning from yesterday's 'Thought' practice, I have noticed I am therefore spending less time worrying about him and more time debating what to make for dinner / how to get Big Lad to tie his shoe laces / where the heck that felt tip is that Little Lad is still screaming about. I figure that's got to be a good thing.

But my body is clearly fancying a bit of time off.

So when I saw that today's video treat served up my Ms Mishler was entitled 'Awaken', my mind yelled, 'Yey!' but my body, grumbled, 'Boo!'

The point was, I didn't want to wake up. I would have quite happily slipped back under the covers and ignored my children all day. But that is not the way of me. Not today. Not any day. And definitely not in the middle of a thirty day yoga challenge.

So I did it. And, as seems to be the emerging pattern (will I ever learn?), I actually quite enjoyed it. Those side stretches in a cross-legged position did absolute wonders for my shoulders and hips. I felt a blossoming across my upper back that absolutely would not have been present if I'd gone back to bed. No matter how much ignoring of children I did.

And after the kind, gentle twenty-five minute practice, I did feel awakened actually. So much so that I cooked the hubby and I a delicious Turklish (half English, half Turkish) breakfast, drank a gallon of decaff and actually started cleaning.

Little Lad was conveniently off to a friend's house. Big Lad has a nasty cold so was staying in bed watching videos with his lazy - I mean poorly - Dad. Both of these facts made the prospect of cleaning more palatable, especially if it meant I would be getting it out of the way for the whole week.

After cleaning, I downed a green smoothie (I know!) and tackled the mountain of ironing. Last week my beautiful elderly neighbour took all of my ironing from me as I was so tied up at hospital (yes, indeed, she is amazing) so today I thought, right, I'm bloody doing this myself this week. And I did. TWO bottles of ironing water and about a million episodes of 'The Amazing World of Gumball' later (Big Lad's choice, not mine) and I had conquered said mountain.

And then I fell in a heap into my bed. And slept.

For two hours.

When I woke up I felt refreshed in a different way to the experience after my yoga sesh. I felt kinder, more approachable, softer and more able to smile.

I had the energy to then cook the dinner, help Little Lad with his homework, mop Big Lad's brow and bring him copious amounts of Calpol. As we speak, post-dinner, post-homework and post-deciding-to-forget-Little-Lad's-shower-because-something-had-to-give, the house is quiet yet again.

Tomorrow, I have decided, I MUST get outside. I think it's part of my necessary 'awakening'. You don't move all the way to the south coast of Devon to stay inside and ignore the ocean now, do you? Also, when your hubby says, "It's time for you to get out of the house, you're talking to me about how to fold socks", you have to read the bloody signs.

Expect some ocean pics tomorrow.

Go well,

Abi

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