Published on YourHub.com, 3/10/07

Every afternoon, it begins.

Well known as “the witching hour”, the 120 minutes between 4 and 6 pm are loudly marked by whining, fighting, and anticipation of injury.

All at once, kids become hungry, dogs need to poop, fish bowls turn green dirty, doorbells gong, phones ring. Naughty words are tested (“Mom. Do you know what a donkey is really called?” “Mom. Did you know it’s naughty to take Aspirin?”)

It is usually at this very moment that I recall friends explaining to me how easy it is to make dinner in the crock pot. Can you make a healthy crock-pot meal in one hour?

You cannot. I have tried.

During this witching hour, my children mysteriously lose the ability to use their legs. One sits on the ground lamenting, “My feet are too tired!”. One slides off the chair, saying he “will die” if he is not carried to the destination of his choosing. One tries to escape the madness by playing a computer game called “Poke the Bunny”, in which a hand literally pokes at a bunny until the bunny finally turns around and bites the finger. All three of them “forget” they are not allowed to jump on the couches, and when I point out their legs seems to be working just fine, they slide back onto the floor in a lump.

I finally made the conscious decision not to be carried along on this wave of insanity any longer. I would take control of the situation, and infuse some calmness and family togetherness into these hours. Surely I could do this…I mean, what bad could possibly come from trying to do something peaceful?

Best known for her “Pigs Over Boulder” children’s book series, Kerry Lee Maclean is expert in meditation techniques. I purchased two of her books, “Peaceful Piggy Meditation” and “The Family Meditation Book”, along with several Zen-like items–a gong, incense, a large dish with sand and river rocks, candles, and a Zen music CD.

I explained that if they couldn’t sit still during meditation, they could quietly move the rocks around in the sand, or look at the Piggy Meditation book. They were intrigued and we were ready to begin our practice.

My husband came home early from work, and commented on how calm the house seemed–the smell of the incense, the quiet Zen tune, the dim light of the candles setting the mood. He joined us as we took several deep breaths.

Then he immediately began to snore.

The meditation for the kids, however, worked. The tone of the evening turned. The children calmed down and I felt quietly at peace. We put a blanket over my husband and left him there to sleep while we, without fighting, completed the remainder of our evening routine.

Of course, the novelty wore off quickly and, after two weeks of practicing family meditation, I have included some tips I now feel knowledgeable enough to pass on:

Tip #1: If you forget to purchase an incense holder, don’t stick the incense in the same rock and sand area your kids will be hovering over. Burning incense, as I now know, sticks to a child’s’ head when they get too close to it. The whacking and screaming greatly distract from the peacefulness of the moment.

Tip #2: Hitting a little sister with the gong mallet hurts her, and she will retaliate. Again, screaming=not peaceful.

Tip #3: When you open your eyes and see only half of the sand remaining in the dish, and you ask your daughter where it is and she says she doesn’t know, she is lying.

Tip #4: If your son’s job is to turn on the music, take away the remote control when you start meditating. Zen music at level 5 is relaxing. Zen music at level 75 is scary.

Tip #5: If your daughter tells you she “just has to go to the bathroom” and then when you open your eyes and you see that she has chocolate all over her face and there are candy wrappers on the floor of the kitchen and you ask her if she knows anything about it and she says,” I don’t think so,” she is lying again.

Aside from these mishaps, family meditation has been a good thing. It helps to center each of us and sets the tone for the evening. For me, it brings a bit of clarity and gives me a chance to appreciate a precious moment with my children instead of dreading the inevitable chaos.

The burn scars have healed over, and the gong-mallet-shaped bump on my daughter’s head has gone down. We’re getting the hang of this meditation thing, and enjoying the quiet time together.

So much so that I bought a waterfall to add to the area. I mean–what bad could possibly come from adding a waterfall?