On the mornings I train, I puff a breath with every lunge, squat, bicep curl, and plank. Ohh, it hurts, but oh, the breathing keeps me going until the set is finally over. Curl, puff. Lunge, puff. In, out, in, out.
In the middle of the night, after I feed Lydia, I hold her close and draw in deep breaths. Her nuzzling and squirming slow and I breath deeply and intentionally until her heartbeat matches mine, and she calms into sleep. Deep breath in, deep breath out, in the quiet of the night.
Driving down the road, with the kids talking and the baby crying and the kids' music blaring on the radio, I grit my teeth and attempt to relax my shoulders and take some good breaths. Our destination is close, the crying will end, the big kids will be okay, the singing caterpillar bursting through my speakers (and appeasing the children) will soon be turned off. Just a few more minutes. Breathe in, breathe out.
At the end of the day, when the toys are picked up, the dishwasher is humming, and I turn out the last light, I heave a heavy sigh. A moment of peace, at last. A gentle inhale, a big sigh.
I just keep breathing. In and out, and in and out. In the chaos ... in and out, in and out. In the quiet ... in and out, in and out.
Because all too soon I will take a breath and these moments will be gone.
So I will breathe through them, and savor them, and yes, sometimes endure them.
Deep breaths. Deep, cleansing breaths.
Have a lovely day.