The radio lady called the technique “four-square breathing.” This method consists of inhaling to the count of four, holding to the count of four, exhaling to the count of four, holding to the count of four, and then repeating the entire pattern, as much as is necessary. This method effectively lowers respiration and heart rate. This method is essential for the moms of teens.

My oldest son seems not to be learning sweet katas, but, instead, seems to be learning lethal mixed martial arts. He came home with bruises on his neck from improving on his choke hold. Keep breathing.

Although I faced off with the neighbor who has clinical-level anger management issues so that my exhausted husband could get some sleep, my oldest daughter woke up my husband, after my encounter, because “only Daddy understands how traumatic the neighbor’s visit was.” Keep breathing.

My youngest daughter, who just screamed at me about chores, (see: “No Parental Onus for Assigning Teens Household Chores ,”) an hour before the neighbor began pounding and yelling at our front door, won’t go to bed until I hug her since “only Mommy’s hugs make it all better.” Keep breathing.

Meanwhile, my youngest son, impervious to all familial dramas, finished the tuna salad I had intended to give to all of the children the next day. Keep breathing.

Earlier, my oldest son chose to comment, repeatedly, that me, his mother, was at least half daff. Keep breathing.

Yesterday, my oldest daughter kept me from work and from sleep by freaking out over a chemistry test. Today, she sailed through her pre-calculus. Keep breathing.

My youngest daughter refused to finish a book report, electing instead to receive no credit for the work she has completed to date. Tonight, she was insistent upon staying up to forever to finish it. Keep breathing.

My youngest son, finally appreciating our familial chaos, hides in his room with his Legos and refuses to surface except for food, water, and playtime with his friends. Keep breathing.

The publisher rejects my manuscript, but praises my character development and the book’s plot. Keep breathing.

My husband announces two more business trips to foreign lands and fails to acknowledge my resulting, additional “single parenting” duties. Keep breathing.

The oldest kids ask to cook a festive meal, but “forget” to clean the kitchen afterwards. Keep breathing.

The youngest kids decide to play together, but soon fill our home with increasingly louder decibels of discord, thus prompting a return visit from the neighbor. Keep breathing.

The framer covers my signature on one of my best pieces of visual art. Keep breathing.

In turn, before bed, I get hugs from my husband, my youngest son, my youngest daughter, my oldest son, and my oldest daughter. Inhale.

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