“Come join us for baby yoga!” they say. “Mom and baby can bond together in this relaxing class!” boasts the “Meetup” description. “Will you attend?” Hell, YES! Won’t it be so awesome to meet other moms, and conjure up my inner zen?
No. Just, NO. I did learn a lesson, however: baby yoga is a GODDAMN OXYMORON, and a bad idea for many reasons. Here’s what you’ll experience if you choose to sign up for one of these “classes”:
5 Reasons “Baby Yoga” is a Bad Idea
- You will hate yourself. What the f@#$ was I thinking? Had I become so delusional from being at home, that in a moment of what could only be explained as pure idiocy, I thought this would be even mildly relaxing? The self-deprecating kicked in right away when I hadn’t even unraveled my yoga mat and Penelope began trying to eat my flip flops. After I explained to her that my shoes were not part of Buddha’s Feast, and moved them far away, I managed to lay out my mat. We were on our way to Zen…right? Not so much.
- You’ll look the exact opposite of graceful. The instructor guided us into “tree” pose, which for you non-yogis, looks like this:
However, my version looked more like “decrepit tree with a horrible twitch being eaten by termites” (sorry, couldn’t find a Google image to represent this so you’ll have to use your imagination for this one), because I kept having to jerk forward unexpectedly while keeping one eye open. Penelope sits up these days – yay! – but still has the tendency to perform a move I dubbed as “pulling the parachute” when, without warning, she dive-bombs herself backward for reasons I can’t understand. It’s hard to balance on one foot with your hands in “prayer” position and your eyes closed when you have baby Evel Knievel seated at the edge of your mat.
- You won’t be relaxing at any point – not even during the “meditation” at the end: “Let’s take a few minutes now to lay back on our mats and meditate,” said the instructor. The stereo played peaceful, serene music, peppered with the “Tibetan singing bowl bell gong” that is said to promote healing and relaxation. And it may have been effective, had Penelope not scooted to the edge of my yoga mat and let out a giant, bellowing “ROARRRRRR!!” throughout the entire track.”No, no,” I thought. “Can’t she just cry?” At least if she were crying, I could have been all “Awwww, baby has a wet diaper” but nooooo, she decided to let her vocal chords explode repeatedly, fists clenched, being sure she made eye contact with every mom and baby in the room as she spewed her wrath of disapproval for this godforsaken class. Not even the newborns were spared from her ruthless protest, some of whom awoke from the commotion. I’m sure you could imagine I scored a big fat goose egg in the “new mom friend” department that day. Way to keep the peace, Miss P.
- There may be safety issues… At some point during your class your instructor may think it’s a genius idea to “do lunges around the room, while holding your baby in your arms!” People without small children, go ahead and give it a try. Seriously, I’ll wait; go grab a 15 lb sandbag and prance around your living with it. Now do this barefoot while stepping over other people’s yoga garb as your little sandbag comes to life and starts stiff-arming your face and shoving its fingers in your nose while wondering why its mommy is acting like a total freaking weirdo. Um, death lunges, anyone? It’s all coming together now why they make us sign that “release of liability” form before class.
- But you WILL feel like you’re back on Spring break, just like in your college days! Yes, you read that correctly! The class will bring you right back to those nights in Mexico: beautiful weather, peaceful breeze – and you, unable to enjoy any of it because you are preoccupied with reeling your drunk friend in from barging into people’s personal space at the bar. Just like your tipsy friend, your baby will be the uninvited guest all up in the grills of everyone in the room. Except now imagine you put her on a segway, since she doesn’t have any alcohol in her system slowing her down. Blink for just a moment too long and she’ll creep up on the other moms when they least expect it and be all, “Oh heyyyy! Can I pull your hair? Your armpits smell pretty. Wanna be friends?” Just like in Mexico, you’ll probably have to call it a night earlier than you would have preferred.
Meetup, you meant well, but I’ll change my RSVP to “no” for this one.