Nope, not me. For those of you who don't know my mother, also Barb, consider this blog post your official introduction to the amazing matriarch of our family. Certainly doesn't seem blog-worthy to write about my mom taking up yoga, but then again it wouldn't be if it wasn't her doing it.
I'm sure you remember my first foray into yoga. I chronicled my own yoga adventures at the beginning of the pandemic in my very first blog post back in 2020. From that blog:
For years, I've watched as the flood of skinny bitches pour out the yoga studio at the gym. Clearly they are onto something. I am quite the expert at wearing yoga pants (and leisurewear, in general) so I really felt like this was going to be the perfect at-home workout.
I downloaded a free Peloton app, grabbed a mat and donned the garb. Unfortunately for someone who has never even come close to touching my own toes, this pursuit was a stretch...quite literally. I still have PTSD from the stupid Presidential Fitness Tests we were subjected to in grade school; my flexibility was notably bad. Certainly made me question whether I was built for this, but what the hell?
I'm not going to lie, there was a lot more sweating and shaking than I would have thought. And, contorting my uncooperative rigid limbs in some of those positions — while also trying to crane my neck to see how the skinny bitch instructor was doing it — was akin to a playing a demented game of Twister that no one wins. My dogs watched with what appeared concern. My left shoulder is now spasming and my right buttock hurts, but overall it felt pretty good.
It was definitely touch and go initially, for both my rigid limbs and my dogs who both thought it was "Mommy and me" time on the mat and not yoga. I have improved slightly though still can't touch my toes.
Being raised by a jock
My mom was born a natural athlete, meaning she can pick up nearly any sport and be good at it very quickly. My dad was also a good athlete but one who studied hard at it. Read everything, videotaped himself so he could study his motion, golf or tennis swing, and then methodically plot how he could get better. Not mom; she can just watch someone do something and mimic it naturally.
She's ambidextrous! When she wants to mess with someone, she simply changes the hand she's playing with. Talk about a mind fuck on a tennis court!
She was the first female Little League player in the state of Arkansas back in the 50s. She got a hole in one on the golf course…7 times!! Not a typo.
Despite being barely over 5-feet herself, it never stopped her from competing and winning in sports her whole life. Below is a picture from one of the many tennis tournaments she won as a kid. She's the one rocking the crop top before that was fashionable. FYI: she is the same age as the other kids in the picture. Not sure what to say about that haircut.
While I adore her, It wasn't always easy having a mom who can do every sport better than you. It's the reason neither my sister or I took up tennis until our 40s, despite having spent much of our childhoods hanging out by tennis courts while she played. Why take up a sport that you'll never beat your own mom at? I mean she's pushing 80 but I've officially given up the hope of ever beating her at tennis.
I remember being 7 or so and being fearful of jumping off the diving board at the local pool. I mounted the board a few times before bailing in fear. Then my mom casually walks up to the diving board and with absolutely no preamble does a flip off it. Then a back flip. What? I mean I was aware she could swim but really?
When she decided it was time for me to learn how to swim, she didn't bother teaching me or signing me up for lessons. She just signed me up for the local swim team. Didn't matter that I could only swim the width of the pool. "You'll get better," she assured me. I believe the term "baptism by fire" works here but hey, a few weeks later and many tearful pleas to quit, and boom: I learned how to swim. That was Parenting 101 Barb-style.
Then I remember trying to learn how to water ski. My poor, very patient dad would drag me behind his boat for an hour but my little "Olive Oyl" arms could not muster the strength to pull my 75-pound frame out of the water. I cried, begging to get back in the boat.
Shortly after that, my mom takes her turn, popping up within seconds and then within a few minutes, kicking off one ski and going slalom. What the...? All 3 of us kids looked at each other in bewilderment. Didn't they just buy these things?
You can lead the horse to water...
I have tried since 2020 to get my mom to try yoga. She was getting increasingly bored being stuck at home and I thought it was the perfect way for her to stay busy and thought maybe the meditation part would be a good thing for her as well.
As you might be able to tell she has the boundless energy so not being able to do all her various activities was making her a little crazy. I'm sure many of you enjoyed the pandemic videos she made and posted to Facebook. This one was one of my favs.
So I must say when she said she was ready to try yoga, I was excited to see how it would go. With no ball involved or thing to swing, I thought we might finally have arrived to a level playing field.
Over the Christmas holiday, I spent a week visiting my parents, and daily Mom and I did yoga. It was fun and I must admit pleasantly surprising to see that there's at least one thing Barb Jones doesn't do well. Turns out she has the flexibility of a 2 X 4 (her words) and not stellar balance; both important things to have as we get older. After I left, she took a few classes. Review below.
