Thursday, February 17, 2011
Family. Gym. Membership.
We went in to 24 Hour Fitness today.
We've been talking about signing up at a gym.
Time to un-atrophy ourselves.
One of Justin's coworkers told us that she knew a guy there and after she placed a call she told us to go in and ask for him.
It felt exciting.
Like something out of a mobster movie.
We had to take the girls. All of them. Alena was out of school for a few days, and Chloe and Tessa - well - They're just ALWAYS THERE.
We had to wait on the guy who would come give us a tour. We name dropped. We did our secret handshake.
It was plenty of time for near chaos.
The girls were all over the place.
Straddling the waiting area chairs, playing tag by the door. Putting their mouths places mouths don't go - ESPECIALLY not in a gym.
Tessa almost knocked over one approximately 45 pound woman.
I guess that's not surprising.
Tessa loved it, actually.
Her eyes were full of light and excitement. She took one look at the elliptical and started skipping.
Yes, Young Grasshopper. Study them well.
With the amount of Cheese-It's you ingest, one day they will be your life line.
Justin looked around nervously. He was making his self-analyzation face.
He puts a lot of pressure on himself in places like that.
He was too busy comparing his arm width to everyone else's to notice Tessa about 2 seconds from pulling the fire alarm with a big grin on her face.
We're the Greens.
Finally our escort came out.
All 250 pounds of rock hard muscle. I think Justin got lightheaded.
Nothing some Muscle Milk couldn't help.
We handed him some forms we'd filled out and he said,
"So - What brings you guys in today? Do you have any specific goals?"
We can start with not feeling about three steps away from the elastic waisted pants section in JC Penny's. How about that?
I'd like to not die.
That's another one.
Then he asked us a little about our health history and I thoroughly explained the path of being in good shape, getting married, miscarriages, three kids and about a hundred packages of frozen waffles with Nutella.
I mean, I know there are people out there who are in miraculous shape after 6 kids and all that jazz.
They are mostly people I'd like to choke, but they're there.
I'm not saying it's not possible, I'm just saying it's a little LESS possible when you're large gene pool makes all other gene pools look like blue plastic wading pools.
When other children were eating veggie dogs, we were at Nonnie's eating sandwich cookies dipped in a mixture of peanut butter and Crisco.
Our Family Crest is carved out of butter.
It's work to break the cycle.
Everyone that passed us as we stood there talking paused and went on and on about the girls.
"They are SO cute." "Adorable!"
Yeah.....I'd give you 6 minutes in a room alone with them before they'd break you.
Justin had been opposed to 24 Hour.
He'd suggested the YMCA and Stan Bennetts.
He'd said it was a meat market and it made him uncomfortable to be in there with all the oiled up Brunos and Marge's.
I told HIM it made ME uncomfortable to think of going to a gym where the one parking lot light that worked flickered and where I pictured there to be a plethora of bums wearing nothing but trench coats.
He was just sure 24 Hour would be intimidating for those who were just starting to work out.
That theory went quickly out the window as I told him to REALLY look around.
There was a couple with an estimated combined weight of 900 pounds on the rowing machines.
There was a man who had to be at least 87 years old on a spin bike.
There was a man next to him who was such a stick that if he turned sideways he disappeared completely from sight.
Then there was us.
It takes all kinds.
While Justin and our guide to a new life chatted it up, the room went silent and I looked around.
This room that Tessa said "Thmelled dood."
(Which is a whole other blog because this is third in line of other strange places she likes the smell off, including the vet's office and the art store.)
This would be the place where my dreams would come true.
Dreams of focusing inward.
Dreams of working on myself.
Dreams of CHILDCARE that takes place behind a partition.
I can actually have a moment that's all mine that extends beyond locking the door to pee.
A moment that usually STILL has a tiny voice in it saying,
"Mommy? Where did you go? Mommy? I fink I need to wash my hands now" followed by an indiscernible mumble explaining WHY.
I mean, would anyone ever REALLY notice if I checked them in to the childcare room and then just layed face down on a yoga mat "stretching" for an hour.
I've tried exercising at home.
That is a hard thing to do when your kids scream, "HORSEY!" every time you're doing leg lifts and go onto all fours.
Billie Blanks doesn't have a dvd that allots mini-breaks for cutting apples and filling sippies and breaking up slap fights.
As it is, I think I have paused the one I have so often it's trying to self-destruct.
I'm excited about the good example I will set for the girls.
The kids need to know that Mommy actually loves a good hip-hop class.
That Zumba is not just the sound she makes the Little People bus say.
One thing did scare me, though.
On the back of the childcare area release form is a section for the kids to get write-ups of sorts if they misbehave.
I can see it now.
Me begging them to give Tessa another chance as I lecture her that sitting on others is not acceptable behavior.
Them explaining their three strikes law.
What brings us in today?
The promise of an even stronger Green Team.
That, and I may have noticed they play All My Children on the flat screen in front of the treadmills....