Misadventures of a Parenting Yogi
Autor Brian Leafen Limba Engleză Paperback – 19 mai 2014
In this hilarious, heartfelt book, Brian Leaf tackles parenting with a unique blend of research and humor. He explores Attachment Parenting, as well as Playful, Unconditional, Simplicity, and good old Dr. Spock parenting. He tries cloth diapers, no diapers, cosleeping, and no sleeping. Join him on his rollicking journey in this one-of-a-kind parenting guide.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781608682676
ISBN-10: 1608682676
Pagini: 221
Dimensiuni: 140 x 213 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.27 kg
Editura: NEW WORLD LIBRARY
Locul publicării:Canada
ISBN-10: 1608682676
Pagini: 221
Dimensiuni: 140 x 213 x 15 mm
Greutate: 0.27 kg
Editura: NEW WORLD LIBRARY
Locul publicării:Canada
Cuprins
Author's Note
Preface: Lox 'n Latkes
Chapter 1. Before Babies
Chapter 2. Not Not Trying
Chapter 3. A Squirrel in Our Bed
Chapter 4. Birthing Class
Chapter 5. Six Days of Labor
Chapter 6: Thanksgiving
Chapter 7. The Phlebotomist
Chapter 8. Sweet Baby Lemongelo
Chapter 9. The Myth of Smegma
Chapter 10. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding
Chapter 11. Attachment Parenting
Chapter 12. Say Goodbye to Your Luscious Down Comforter
Chapter 13. Get Help!
Chapter 14. What Is This, 1850?
Chapter 15. My Osteopathic Shaman
Chapter 16. The Vulcan Baby Grip
Chapter 17. The Perfect Parent
Chapter 18. Punished by Rewards
Chapter 19. The Christmas Dreidel
Chapter 20. Kid’s Yoga
Chapter 21. Hypnobirthing
Chapter 22. Never Argue with a Woman in Labor
Chapter 23. Grease Lightening
Chapter 24. Kid’s Korner
Chapter 25. Operation Meditation
Chapter 26. Elimination Communication
Chapter 27. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
Chapter 28. Get Me A Beer
Chapter 29. It’s Not Personal
Chapter 30. Playful Parenting
Chapter 31. Kohn Meet Cohen
Chapter 32. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk
Chapter 33. Poop
Chapter 34. Divorce
Chapter 35. Germophobia
Chapter 36. Simplicity Parenting
Chapter 37. Sex
Chapter 38. Meditation
Chapter 39. Ayurveda
Chapter 40. Never Skip Lunch
Chapter 41. Choosing a School
Chapter 42. Free-Range Parenting
Chapter 43. CTFD
Epilogue: Be Loved
Acknowledgments
Ayurvedic Constitutional Survey and Recommendations
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
Preface: Lox 'n Latkes
Chapter 1. Before Babies
Chapter 2. Not Not Trying
Chapter 3. A Squirrel in Our Bed
Chapter 4. Birthing Class
Chapter 5. Six Days of Labor
Chapter 6: Thanksgiving
Chapter 7. The Phlebotomist
Chapter 8. Sweet Baby Lemongelo
Chapter 9. The Myth of Smegma
Chapter 10. The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding
Chapter 11. Attachment Parenting
Chapter 12. Say Goodbye to Your Luscious Down Comforter
Chapter 13. Get Help!
Chapter 14. What Is This, 1850?
Chapter 15. My Osteopathic Shaman
Chapter 16. The Vulcan Baby Grip
Chapter 17. The Perfect Parent
Chapter 18. Punished by Rewards
Chapter 19. The Christmas Dreidel
Chapter 20. Kid’s Yoga
Chapter 21. Hypnobirthing
Chapter 22. Never Argue with a Woman in Labor
Chapter 23. Grease Lightening
Chapter 24. Kid’s Korner
Chapter 25. Operation Meditation
Chapter 26. Elimination Communication
Chapter 27. Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
Chapter 28. Get Me A Beer
Chapter 29. It’s Not Personal
Chapter 30. Playful Parenting
Chapter 31. Kohn Meet Cohen
Chapter 32. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk
Chapter 33. Poop
Chapter 34. Divorce
Chapter 35. Germophobia
Chapter 36. Simplicity Parenting
Chapter 37. Sex
Chapter 38. Meditation
Chapter 39. Ayurveda
Chapter 40. Never Skip Lunch
Chapter 41. Choosing a School
Chapter 42. Free-Range Parenting
Chapter 43. CTFD
Epilogue: Be Loved
Acknowledgments
Ayurvedic Constitutional Survey and Recommendations
Reading Group Guide
About the Author
Recenzii
“Would it be weird if I said I want Brian Leaf to be my father? He's just that damn funny, thoughtful, and insightful. I guess I'll be satisfied with rereading his book instead.”
— A.J. Jacobs, author of The Year of Living Biblically and The Know It All
“For anyone who is a parent of a toddler, you will get some major deep belly laughs.”
— Alicia Silverstone, actress and author of The Kind Diet
“Brian Leaf writes about parenting and yoga with such humor.”
— Christy Turlington Burns, supermodel and founder of Every Mother Counts
“Some holistic parenting books make me roll my eyes until I get a headache. Not this one. You won't find judgment or condescension here, just humor and humility. Warm, approachable, and funny, Brian Leaf will have you nodding, laughing, and even learning when you least expect it.”
— Amber Dusick, author of Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures
“Brian Leaf plunges into the mysteries, madness, and anxieties of the parenting process and emerges with a perspective that is sure to leave you laughing and learning.”
— Adele Faber, coauthor of How To Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk
“Finally! A much-needed and elegant male perspective on parenting from a respected and respectful voice in the holistic community. Brian Leaf has struck the perfect balance between honesty, humor, passion, and compassion for all paths of parenting. What a wonderful addition to any parent's library.”
— Mayim Bialik, PhD, actress on The Big Bang Theory and author of Beyond the Sling
“Brian Leaf speaks about conscious parenting with great humor, insight, and depth. A must-read for all parents trying to answer the call to conscious parenting.”
— Dr. Shefali Tsabary, clinical psychologist and author of The Conscious Parent
“A warm, funny memoir about the surprising and enlightening ups and downs of parenthood....Very connected to his Jewish roots and his yoga practice, Leaf is a mindful parent, heeding the Dalai Lama’s advice that the sure key to parenting ‘is patience, compassion, forgiveness, and even faith, in my kids...but also in myself.’ In this insightful book, he reminds readers to remain open to those transcendent moments of love, connection, and happiness that make parenthood a pure joy.”
— Publishers Weekly
“I found myself smiling, laughing, occasionally disagreeing, but most importantly thinking about where I stand as a parent. Brian’s musing and misadventures come from the heart and encourage us to be both on the parental dance floor while also consciously watching ourselves from the balcony.”
— Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting, Beyond Winning, and The Soul of Discipline
“Fatherhood is not a spectator sport, and Brian Leaf isn’t afraid to call the play-by-play on his own successes, near-misses, and semi-disasters. He’s funny, poignant, and gets across a powerful message about tuning in to our children and ourselves without proclaiming one right way to be a dad.”
— Larry Cohen, author of Playful Parenting
“The potent blend of dad and yogi and humorist that Brain Leaf so deftly mixes makes his book a must-read for parents of any generation. I say Namaste to a dad who can keep it light and lead with humor and stillness.”
— Peggy O'Mara, founder of Mothering.com
“If parenting has as many laughs as this book, sign me up! Fans of the first Misadventures will delight in this romp through the trials, tribulations, messes, and joys of alternative child rearing — all captured with Leaf’s trademark mix of humor, honesty, and compassion.”
— Benjamin Lorr, author of Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga
“K. Patthabi Jois said that family life was the ‘Seventh Series’ of Ashtanga Yoga, the most challenging and almost impossible to perfect. If this warm, funny book — a love letter to both yoga and his kids — is any indication, then Brian Leaf is a Seventh-Series Master.”
— Neal Pollack, author of Alternadad and Stretch
— A.J. Jacobs, author of The Year of Living Biblically and The Know It All
“For anyone who is a parent of a toddler, you will get some major deep belly laughs.”
— Alicia Silverstone, actress and author of The Kind Diet
“Brian Leaf writes about parenting and yoga with such humor.”
— Christy Turlington Burns, supermodel and founder of Every Mother Counts
“Some holistic parenting books make me roll my eyes until I get a headache. Not this one. You won't find judgment or condescension here, just humor and humility. Warm, approachable, and funny, Brian Leaf will have you nodding, laughing, and even learning when you least expect it.”
— Amber Dusick, author of Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures
“Brian Leaf plunges into the mysteries, madness, and anxieties of the parenting process and emerges with a perspective that is sure to leave you laughing and learning.”
— Adele Faber, coauthor of How To Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk
“Finally! A much-needed and elegant male perspective on parenting from a respected and respectful voice in the holistic community. Brian Leaf has struck the perfect balance between honesty, humor, passion, and compassion for all paths of parenting. What a wonderful addition to any parent's library.”
— Mayim Bialik, PhD, actress on The Big Bang Theory and author of Beyond the Sling
“Brian Leaf speaks about conscious parenting with great humor, insight, and depth. A must-read for all parents trying to answer the call to conscious parenting.”
— Dr. Shefali Tsabary, clinical psychologist and author of The Conscious Parent
“A warm, funny memoir about the surprising and enlightening ups and downs of parenthood....Very connected to his Jewish roots and his yoga practice, Leaf is a mindful parent, heeding the Dalai Lama’s advice that the sure key to parenting ‘is patience, compassion, forgiveness, and even faith, in my kids...but also in myself.’ In this insightful book, he reminds readers to remain open to those transcendent moments of love, connection, and happiness that make parenthood a pure joy.”
— Publishers Weekly
“I found myself smiling, laughing, occasionally disagreeing, but most importantly thinking about where I stand as a parent. Brian’s musing and misadventures come from the heart and encourage us to be both on the parental dance floor while also consciously watching ourselves from the balcony.”
— Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting, Beyond Winning, and The Soul of Discipline
“Fatherhood is not a spectator sport, and Brian Leaf isn’t afraid to call the play-by-play on his own successes, near-misses, and semi-disasters. He’s funny, poignant, and gets across a powerful message about tuning in to our children and ourselves without proclaiming one right way to be a dad.”
— Larry Cohen, author of Playful Parenting
“The potent blend of dad and yogi and humorist that Brain Leaf so deftly mixes makes his book a must-read for parents of any generation. I say Namaste to a dad who can keep it light and lead with humor and stillness.”
— Peggy O'Mara, founder of Mothering.com
“If parenting has as many laughs as this book, sign me up! Fans of the first Misadventures will delight in this romp through the trials, tribulations, messes, and joys of alternative child rearing — all captured with Leaf’s trademark mix of humor, honesty, and compassion.”
— Benjamin Lorr, author of Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga
“K. Patthabi Jois said that family life was the ‘Seventh Series’ of Ashtanga Yoga, the most challenging and almost impossible to perfect. If this warm, funny book — a love letter to both yoga and his kids — is any indication, then Brian Leaf is a Seventh-Series Master.”
— Neal Pollack, author of Alternadad and Stretch
Notă biografică
Memoirist and yoga teacher Brian Leaf is the author of Misadventures of a Garden State Yogi. Owner of the New Leaf Learning Center in Northampton, Massachusetts, Brian has studied, practiced, and taught yoga, meditation, and Ayurveda for twenty-five years.
Extras
Preface
Lox ’n Latkes
I am a parent. I can prove it. Inside my coat pocket right now are one diaper (clean), one pair of children’s underwear (soiled), one unscratched lottery ticket, and countless teething biscuit and rice cake crumbs.
I am also a yogi. Ten years ago, this was easier to prove. My pockets were filled with half-used class cards, a bookstore receipt for Light on Yoga or The Ayurvedic Cookbook, and folded-up handouts of Rumi and Kabir quotes. Now, ten years later, there’s less time for yoga classes, and I’m reading parenting books instead of yoga books. But, still, my yoga is alive and well. My attempts at mindfulness and union are stronger than ever.
For example, this morning, after my family had breakfast at the Lone Wolf Café.
Noah, age six, loves the waffles, and I love the Lox ’n Latkes Benedict. After breakfast we are to drive a few miles to the Amherst winter farmers’ market to shop and meet some friends. We finish breakfast and walk to the car, but Benji, age two, will not get in his car seat.
He is standing on the floor in the backseat and will not sit. To drive like this, with Benji not strapped in, is, of course, illegal and unsafe. So Gwen and I can’t give in. We must get him buckled. Benji is crying and it’s too cold outside to keep the windows open, so the noise in the car is building. Soon, very likely, like a domino, Noah will succumb to the noise and begin wailing in a cacophonous duet.
I have just read nineteen parenting books; surely I’ve got something up my sleeve.
I try Playful Parenting. “Benji, if you don’t sit in that seat, well, I’m going to sing ‘Yankee Doodle’ until you do.” I make a doofy expression and start singing.
No giggles. He’s not buying it. He plants his feet into the floor mat.
I try Simplicity Parenting. I relax my body and sit in my seat. What’s the rush? We’re headed to the farmers’ market, for Pete’s sake. The kale can wait another ten minutes.
I relax.
But Benji does not. And he does not budge. Let’s face it, as strategies go, waiting out a two-year-old is just bananas.
I think of what good old Dr. Spock would say. I trust my son. Maybe he’s trying to tell us something. He probably doesn’t feel like being strapped in because his body needs to move, to get out some pent-up energy. Heck, if you tried to strap me to a chair, I’d resist, too. I’d run. So Benji and I walk a few blocks to get out some energy and stretch our bodies. Gwen drives alongside.
We have a lovely walk hand in hand. Benji is all smiles now, happy and delighted. A Norman Rockwell painting: Dad and son on Main Street.
A few blocks later Gwen pulls over. Surely Benji has moved on. We get in, and I try to buckle him into his car seat. But move on he has not. He is stiff as a board and crying. As if our Norman Rockwell moment never happened.
Just as I think we’re going to have to go full-tilt Ferber on him, I remember to attune. To get mindful. To really pay attention. Benji’s stuck. He’s obsessed and lost in a tantrum. I ask myself, “What can help Benji relax and move on? What will interest him and fish him out of his mire?”
Answer: Well, he’s been very social lately. He loves playing with friends.
So I ask him, “Benji, what’s the name of your friend who’s coming over later?”
On a dime, his body goes slack. He looks at me. We make eye contact.
“Greta,” he says, catching his breath, focused on something new.
My face lights up. “Ohhhh, Greta,” I say, as I buckle him into the car seat. He is smiling, happy as a clam.
Why did this work?
I have no idea. And no formula to repeat it.
Except to look closely at the moment. To be present and really pay attention. To respond not out of habit and not based on prior situations but directly to each new reality.
This, to me, is conscious parenting. But what does it entail? Should I bring the boys to kids’ yoga? Use cloth diapers? No diapers? Cosleep? Keep a family bed? How many slings do I need to own? And what about vaccinations and circumcision?
What do we say when Benji throws his organic butternut squash against the wall? Or after Noah has a tough day at school? How do I avoid passing along my own anxieties and neuroses? And what the heck can Gwen and I do to stay connected amid the chaos?
Do we practice Attachment Parenting, Playful Parenting, Unconditional Parenting, or Simplicity Parenting? Or do I heed Lenore Skenazy’s Free Range Kids and back off and stop hovering, already!?
Who knows, maybe sweet Dr. Spock got it right sixty years ago when he told us simply, “Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.”
Sometimes I think all I need to do is pose as a Republican for a decade or two so my kids will rebel and become hippie environmentalists.
To answer these pressing parenting questions, I have been reading books, watching countless videos, and attending workshops, seminars, and trainings. I have even worn a synthetic strap-on belly during downward dog posture.
In digging deep into all these approaches, I’ve found some solutions, yes, but equally important, as I’ve searched for the keys to conscious parenting, I’ve learned an awful lot about trust, compassion, and forgiveness — for myself and for my kids — and I think, in this, I may have stumbled on the very heart of yoga as well.
This process has involved an Ayurvedic doctor, a plus sign on a pregnancy test, an osteopathic shaman, the Eric Carle Museum, and not much sex. But before we get into all that, let’s head over to the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Lenox, Massachusetts, on a Friday in 2003, when I meet my wife and our tale begins.
Lox ’n Latkes
I am a parent. I can prove it. Inside my coat pocket right now are one diaper (clean), one pair of children’s underwear (soiled), one unscratched lottery ticket, and countless teething biscuit and rice cake crumbs.
I am also a yogi. Ten years ago, this was easier to prove. My pockets were filled with half-used class cards, a bookstore receipt for Light on Yoga or The Ayurvedic Cookbook, and folded-up handouts of Rumi and Kabir quotes. Now, ten years later, there’s less time for yoga classes, and I’m reading parenting books instead of yoga books. But, still, my yoga is alive and well. My attempts at mindfulness and union are stronger than ever.
For example, this morning, after my family had breakfast at the Lone Wolf Café.
Noah, age six, loves the waffles, and I love the Lox ’n Latkes Benedict. After breakfast we are to drive a few miles to the Amherst winter farmers’ market to shop and meet some friends. We finish breakfast and walk to the car, but Benji, age two, will not get in his car seat.
He is standing on the floor in the backseat and will not sit. To drive like this, with Benji not strapped in, is, of course, illegal and unsafe. So Gwen and I can’t give in. We must get him buckled. Benji is crying and it’s too cold outside to keep the windows open, so the noise in the car is building. Soon, very likely, like a domino, Noah will succumb to the noise and begin wailing in a cacophonous duet.
I have just read nineteen parenting books; surely I’ve got something up my sleeve.
I try Playful Parenting. “Benji, if you don’t sit in that seat, well, I’m going to sing ‘Yankee Doodle’ until you do.” I make a doofy expression and start singing.
No giggles. He’s not buying it. He plants his feet into the floor mat.
I try Simplicity Parenting. I relax my body and sit in my seat. What’s the rush? We’re headed to the farmers’ market, for Pete’s sake. The kale can wait another ten minutes.
I relax.
But Benji does not. And he does not budge. Let’s face it, as strategies go, waiting out a two-year-old is just bananas.
I think of what good old Dr. Spock would say. I trust my son. Maybe he’s trying to tell us something. He probably doesn’t feel like being strapped in because his body needs to move, to get out some pent-up energy. Heck, if you tried to strap me to a chair, I’d resist, too. I’d run. So Benji and I walk a few blocks to get out some energy and stretch our bodies. Gwen drives alongside.
We have a lovely walk hand in hand. Benji is all smiles now, happy and delighted. A Norman Rockwell painting: Dad and son on Main Street.
A few blocks later Gwen pulls over. Surely Benji has moved on. We get in, and I try to buckle him into his car seat. But move on he has not. He is stiff as a board and crying. As if our Norman Rockwell moment never happened.
Just as I think we’re going to have to go full-tilt Ferber on him, I remember to attune. To get mindful. To really pay attention. Benji’s stuck. He’s obsessed and lost in a tantrum. I ask myself, “What can help Benji relax and move on? What will interest him and fish him out of his mire?”
Answer: Well, he’s been very social lately. He loves playing with friends.
So I ask him, “Benji, what’s the name of your friend who’s coming over later?”
On a dime, his body goes slack. He looks at me. We make eye contact.
“Greta,” he says, catching his breath, focused on something new.
My face lights up. “Ohhhh, Greta,” I say, as I buckle him into the car seat. He is smiling, happy as a clam.
Why did this work?
I have no idea. And no formula to repeat it.
Except to look closely at the moment. To be present and really pay attention. To respond not out of habit and not based on prior situations but directly to each new reality.
This, to me, is conscious parenting. But what does it entail? Should I bring the boys to kids’ yoga? Use cloth diapers? No diapers? Cosleep? Keep a family bed? How many slings do I need to own? And what about vaccinations and circumcision?
What do we say when Benji throws his organic butternut squash against the wall? Or after Noah has a tough day at school? How do I avoid passing along my own anxieties and neuroses? And what the heck can Gwen and I do to stay connected amid the chaos?
Do we practice Attachment Parenting, Playful Parenting, Unconditional Parenting, or Simplicity Parenting? Or do I heed Lenore Skenazy’s Free Range Kids and back off and stop hovering, already!?
Who knows, maybe sweet Dr. Spock got it right sixty years ago when he told us simply, “Trust yourself. You know more than you think you do.”
Sometimes I think all I need to do is pose as a Republican for a decade or two so my kids will rebel and become hippie environmentalists.
To answer these pressing parenting questions, I have been reading books, watching countless videos, and attending workshops, seminars, and trainings. I have even worn a synthetic strap-on belly during downward dog posture.
In digging deep into all these approaches, I’ve found some solutions, yes, but equally important, as I’ve searched for the keys to conscious parenting, I’ve learned an awful lot about trust, compassion, and forgiveness — for myself and for my kids — and I think, in this, I may have stumbled on the very heart of yoga as well.
This process has involved an Ayurvedic doctor, a plus sign on a pregnancy test, an osteopathic shaman, the Eric Carle Museum, and not much sex. But before we get into all that, let’s head over to the Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Lenox, Massachusetts, on a Friday in 2003, when I meet my wife and our tale begins.