I was an active person, before kids. I mean, I played sports in high school. Okay… I went out for sports in high school and legitimately played tennis. And I played intramurals in college. Sort of. I come from a pretty active family. And because of my chronic hypertension, I’ve been pretty serious about staying in good cardiovascular shape. At least the last two facts are truth.
Or so I thought.
I did a pretty good job of keeping fitness in my life after having Barrett. But after Jonah, man, that was pretty much the last thing on my mind. I’d hop on the treadmill during his naps, but it wasn’t like I enjoyed being active. I just did it to check a box. And then after miscarrying, I was so terrified that any stress would lead to another miscarriage, that I was pretty sedentary while pregnant with Harrison. I mean, sure, as a mother of little ones, you get your steps in on a daily basis. But when it comes to actual gets-my-blood-a-pumpin’ exercise that does your soul good, I’ve sorely been lacking over the last year and a half.
But recently, the hubs and I bit the bullet. We renewed our “on-hold” gym membership at our former big box gym. Bah! I dragged my feet for about three months but we did it. We cut cable to offset the pricetag {and because cable is ridicuspensive} — it’s over $130 per month for our family of five — and so the gym is now figured in our monthly budget. And you know the worst part, now that we’ve renewed, and have been going about six weeks now, I have to abandon my previous list. The list of reasons I would not be going to the gym. Do you have one? Mine includes some of the following…
… It’s too gosh darn expensive.
… I don’t know how to fit it in to my day.
… My headphones don’t stay in my ears.
… The other people there are already in shape. And I, am not.
… I don’t know how to use any of the weight machines and have to read the little diagrams and I don’t want someone to see me reading the little diagram and know that I have no idea what I am doing.
… I saw a little girl puke in the trash can in the childcare center.
… I didn’t make a childcare reservation.
… I like to sleep in.
… My three year old might have a tantrum while at the childcare center.
… I’m not one of those fortunate people who looks good when I sweat.
… The only childcare reservation slots left were during Harrison’s naps.
… I don’t like to change in the locker room. Yes. I am 13. Thanks for asking.
… The only childcare reservation slots left were during Barrett and Jonah’s nap.
… I don’t own a single piece of Lululemon. Or apple. Or berry.
… I haven’t showered in three days and I can’t handle getting any grosser.
… It’s raining outside.
… I don’t like running with these boobs.
… The children don’t want to leave our house.
… I showered last night and don’t want to waste the shower.
… I don’t want the babe to fall asleep on the way to the gym.
… I am not a runner. And that’s what people seem to do at the gym. Lots of running going on.
… A fair amount of people at the gym seem to be wearing makeup. I don’t want to wear makeup to exercise.
… My legs jiggle when I run.
… I don’t want to mess with my milk supply.
… I don’t have a diaper bag packed. Or a mommy bag. And packing such things would take about 4 minutes.
… My last hair tie busted. And I can’t workout with my hair down. Because I get so intense.
… I don’t want to park in Botswana, and trek across the vast unknown to get to the building.
… I am so out of shape.
And then. Then I go. I make my appointment 48 hours in advance for Harrison. I pack my bag the night before so that I can exercise and get a shower in. I drink tons of water to combat any milk supply issues. I put on a ten-year old sorority t-shirt. Pull my unwashed hair back in a pony. And I pack all of the clowns into the car, trek across the parking lot, offer four forms of ID, make my way into the big box of fitness, drop the kids off, pop in my headphones, and
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Time for me.
Sometimes I get called down to change a diaper or tend to a disgruntled gentleman, but mostly, once we get there, it’s smooth sailing. Because you know what? Much to my surprise, the children beg to stay longer at the childcare center. There are a lot less Real Housewives of Omaha present than I anticipate. And I get to shower there. Heck, yes. And if I decide that I just can’t make it work or I feel disinterested that day, I just don’t go, or I cut my workout short… er, let’s be real, sometimes I lay on a yoga mat and sleep stretch … and I don’t feel bad about it. Because this is supposed to make me feel good, not guilty. All in all, it’s pretty much a win/win.
While I won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, I look like a little bit of a moron if I choose to run on the treadmill, and I still have plenty of evidence that something miraculous took place in my body, I am just happy to be active again. Because I just feel better and healthier. And as for bringing sexy back, well, I’m still over that cultural obsession. But as a bonus, our kiddos will hopefully glean something positive from our genuine interest in being active and moving our bodies and feel like being active should be a part of their lives. And while I am still looking for my thing… my preferred exercise… for now, a little Pandora and time on the elliptical is doing me just fine.
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