An Experiment in Chanting

Every morning, Miranda Kerr chants this nifty little line:

I am a healthy, vibrant being of love and light.

Well, if it’s good enough for Miranda, it’s good enough for me.

So this morning I lept out of bed, looked in the mirror, and trying not to laugh I said:

I am a healthy, vibrant being of love and light.

Just saying it made me feel like a dickhead. Not one to dwell on such things, I looked some more into the mirror. Surprisingly, I had not turned into a Miranda Kerr lookalike. Stupid bloody chant didn’t work. So I tried again.

I am a healthy, vibrant being of love and light.

This time I accepted it wasn’t going to turn me into a supermodel. But I figured that surely starting the day by chanting will turn the usual rush hour into a calming, neo-Buddhist, Earth Mother experience. A morning where children gratefully accept their breakfast with a “Cheerios! My favourite! Have I told you today how much I love you, Mummy?” They will then skip from the table to happily get dressed without being asked, followed by a bout of calming yet cavity-busting toothbrushing. Hair will be brushed without complaint, faces washed on their own accord and sunscreen applied without fights over who goes first.

Starting the day with Miranda’s chant will surely mean we will be on time for school. We will walk to school all holding hands, singing “She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain” between giggles. When we’ve finished singing, I’ll explain to eager little ears the botanic names of all the plants we walk past.

Surely that’s what happens when you start the day by chanting:

I am a healthy, vibrant being of love and light?

Alas, no. I am here to tell you that if you start your day with positive affirmations in the mirror, there will be bugger all difference to your day. Except that you started it by looking in the mirror which, unless you are Miranda Kerr, is never good. I found lines on my face I didn’t know were there. Oh joy.

Breakfast was a scream-fest, even more than usual. “That’s MY spoon! I want more! Give me milk! This honey is not extra sticky!”

Darling Girl refused to get dressed, resulting in me pinning her down, removing her pyjamas and getting her dressed with one hand in ten seconds. Her teeth were never brushed. She screamed when I washed her face. I had to chase her around the house with the sunscreen, before using my knees as a vice to keep her still. That didn’t work, it went in her eyes and I’m sure the neighbours are all talking about the screaming they heard this morning. Don’t they know

I’m a healthy, vibrant being of love and light?

Darling Boy was easier, it has to be said. Although he certainly does pick his moment to haul his gigantic dinosaur track out of his cupboard to be assembled: right as it was time to leave. Excellent.

We finally made it out the door, late of course, with Darling Girl sulking and refusing to walk. To get my little man to school I had to promise I’d assemble his dinosaur track and spend the morning guarding it from others.

“I’m over this crap just to leave the house” is a more apt start to the day for me. How about you?

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