"Relaaaaax," croons the voice on my yoga DVD. "Relaaaax"
I stretch out in savasana, or corpse pose, flat on my back. I take a deep breath and let it out. Yes, I need to relax.
"MOM," shouts my son from the office room next door. "WHAT'S MARIO'S LAST NAME? IS IT MEATBALL? HOW DO YOU SPELL MEATBALL??"
I am not answering. I am relaxing - just like the lady on the DVD is recommending. I open one eye. The lady on the DVD is apparently in Hawaii. I am in our family room, and I can't help but notice that the rug I'm lying on could use a good shampooing. I close my eye again.
"Breathe," says the DVD lady. "Become one with your breath."
There is a voice in my ear. It sounds suspiciously like my daughter's. "Mom!" it hisses. "Picture day is on Friday. Did you know that picture day is on Friday? Because it is. I need to wear something nice."
I don't answer. Because I am one with my breath.
Suddenly, with a rush, all that breath is knocked out of me. Our new dog, all 50 pounds of him, has bounded down the stairs and landed on my chest.
I gasp for air. The children giggle. The dog drops his new toy, a soggy raccoon we have fondly named "Dead Rigby," on my stomach.
I sit up. I sense the DVD lady's disapproval. But I think I've had all the relaxation I can stand for one night.