The old ball and chain and I take our 2 year old to a Mommy and Me gymnastics class every Saturday morning at 9am. In a former life I was a gymnastics coach, so I have taught the very same class, although at a different gym. Let me tell you, I have a whole new appreciation for the part the parent plays in a class like this. Here are ten thoughts I have at my toddler’s Mommy and Me class.
There is not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for this.
Every Friday night I make the poor choice of staying up late watching TV or working. For some reason, even though I have been a parent for nine years, I still delude myself into thinking I might get to sleep in a little later on Saturday mornings. That happens approximately never. My son is still awake at 7am sharp. Since gymnastics is at 9, that leaves little room for time wasting. There are diapers to be changed, breakfast to be made and eaten, and dressing everyone appropriately to be done before we can even get out the door. Coffee is typically made- but there’s little time to drink it, let alone drink it before it gets cold. Out the door we go.
I can’t believe I pay money to go through this every Saturday.
It’s stretch time. The gymnastics coach in me says ‘this is an important part of every class and the kids can hurt themselves if they don’t stretch properly’. The mom in me is internally begging the gymnastics coach to hurry the eff up because my kid is two and won’t sit still for this. My arms are being pulled from their sockets trying to get him to stay put, and I can’t hear what the coach is even saying over the child screaming directly into my ear. We’re about five minutes into a 55 minute class. This will be the first of a million tantrums we’ll have before this class is over. Speaking of…
Are my underwear showing through my yoga pants when I bend over to pick him up from his latest tantrum?
I am not afraid to admit that I could do a better job at shaving my legs. With everything else I am doing during my day; shaving just seems like too much work. Not only am I am mom, but I’m also a work at home mom. My first thought in the morning after “Coffee” is “Where are my yoga pants?”. The nature of the beast, is that yoga pants tend to be see through when they’re stretched. AKA when you bend over. Between helping with a forward roll, and the fit throwing, I’m bending over a lot. I either have to make sure my back is always to a wall, or maybe invest in some thicker leggings. On to other clothing woes…
I hope my sports bra is going to hold up to this challenge.
Trampolines. That is all.
Ohhh man I feel bad for those parents
There is two parts to this. It seems as though at least once every class, there is some poor guy who gets hit in the daddy button. Whether he gets in the way of a cartwheel mat, or he splits the beam; there’s always one. Then there’s the kid that was a model student last week, but seems to be having some sort of meltdown today. I can’t tell you how many sympathetic smiles I have given and received at Mommy and Me. You never know what you’re going to get. Such is life with toddlers.
Is it parachute time yet?
Parachute time is not only the part where I get to sit down and have a break, it’s the only part of the class where there is no waiting for a turn, which means no wrangling children to prevent them from running into the path of a tumbling gymnasts or other children. Which brings me to…
Kids don’t look where they’re running. Or they do and they just don’t care. Many hurt heads. Many miniature heart attacks on behalf of the parents.
That concession stand smells sooooo goooood.
Somehow in the rush of the morning, you forgot to grab food for yourself. What else is new? About half way through class, I’m always feeling like popcorn for breakfast doesn’t sound too bad.
How can I bribe him into leaving here without throwing a fit?
I feel you, little guy. I really do. You’ve just gone through three obstacle courses and structured play when you’d really rather just run around, the teacher just took away the parachute, and now mom and dad are making you leave? The injustice! Tell me, what can I do to prevent you from screaming the whole way home? Apparently juice doesn’t work.
I can’t wait to take him back next week.
The image of him running down the trampoline, laughing his head off is going to play in slow motion in my memory for the rest of my life. So even though I’m exhausted and dreaming of coffee, I’d do pretty much anything to see him so happy. It’s really worth the 60 dollars a month, and the physical exhaustion that comes after. Besides; he’s still young enough to nap when we get home.