The down dog is becoming my friend.

Apparently it's good for your brain and stops early onset of senile dementia.
Might be too late for me, as I think pregnancy and gin have put paid to several million brain cells already but I am giving it a try (it's nothing to do with Barbara Woodhouse, but a terribly important yoga posture).
So Thursday mornings is now yoga mornings. Not quite as scary as circuits, but then neither is the teacher one of Linford Christie's better-looking young relatives, so not nearly as exciting (no chance of anyone at yoga saying I have a nice bottom when I'm doing the down dog...hmmm, on re-reading that last sentence I am beginning to sound distinctly Julian Clary-esque, which must be what happens when I have a very large pink gin before sitting down at the PC).

Somehow manage to arrive at yoga stressed and late, which isn't very good as everyone else is sitting quietly meditating and I am shoving nappy sacks back into my handbag and trying to ignore bleeping phone, etc. (Twins go to creche there, which is great, but does mean that along with yoga blocks, water bottle and so on, I have to remember nappies, wipes, juice and biscuits.) Also with my new resolution to try not to shout at my children, I am being terrribly calm and patient:
so instead of, "For Gods sake put your shoes on now, OR I WILL HAVE YOU ADOPTED!"
it's, "Now, lets see, would you like your pink shoes or your red wellies today, darling?"
which is great, but also means we are now even more late than ever.

So today I rushed in late and flustered, and tired as an old dog (not a down dog, who would of course be a perky and flexible dog) because Tescos delivered my shopping at 11 o'clock last night and then Twins woke up at 11.30 just as I'd finished putting the shopping away, God love 'em.
However, I did my best to look calm, with my greasy hair and only six hours sleep (Son woke up at six, and decided to go for a 'big poo' and tell us all about it, bless his cotton socks).

I did ok through most of the session, until it got to the creative visualisation bit at the end, where we are supposed to relax and the teacher guides us into a happy state by describing a walk along a beach, for example.

Except today it wasn't a walk along a beach.

Today she chose to ask us to imagine ourselves in a lovely big field of poppies.

Now, bearing in mind where Hubby is right now, every time I envisioned myself in a poppy field, a Taliban wielding an AK47 would leap up from behind a crimson clump of flowers. I kept trying to banish them, but the harder I tried, the more they popped up (funny, that).

So, not very relaxing at all.

Maybe I'll go back to circuits next week.