So, We Joined the YMCA

I’ve been very excited by the prospect of joining the YMCA and Jamie’s new job allows us a few luxuries in the budget so we decided to go for it. As the mother of two small kiddos I’m determined to be able to run around a yard with them without passing out from exhaustion. Thus, exercise is required. That’s great motivation for joining the Y but I’ll confess it is not my primary incentive.

I’ve been overweight (read FAT) for about 13 years now. Yeah, most people don’t realize I used to have a waist including my husband. Still, I’m terrible with motivation. I can’t get started. I won’t get started. I’m procrastinating. I’m lazy. Whatever. I am however not claiming a thyroid problem or that I’m big boned. I did it. I have to undo it.

I have recently found the ULTIMATE motivation to go the gym. Are you ready? 10 hours of free childcare per week up to 2 hours per day while I’m on the premises!!! If that doesn’t impress you then you don’t have kids! Seriously, why don’t more people belong to the Y?

TantrumMy son just entered the terrible two’s. Meltdowns about broken pretzels or not being able to carry all his toys at one time are a daily occurrence. One day he was sweet and adoring the next day he was whiny, kicky, crier boy. Ugh. I adore my son and we have lots of fun together but when the opportunity presented itself to join the Y I was jubilant.

Our first day at the YMCA was Monday. Ahhh, 2 glorious hours of freedom! Hmmmm. I got 40 minutes before someone from the nursery came looking for me. I headed back to the nursery and found my son doing the “huuuuu” short breath, “huuuuu”, short breath, “huuuuu” cry with his lip out, face and nose red and tears streaming down his little face. Crap!

He rushed to me when the half door was opened. I picked him up and tried to console him thinking, “Dude, I have another hour and twenty minutes, cut this out.” I quickly shifted into, “Forget it mom, it’s over.” Jensen’s crying escalated when I put him down to strap Maddie into her car carrier. He shook while I put his coat on then shrieked when I stood to put on my coat. I gathered the diaper bag, gym bag and my purse in one hand, picked up the car carrier with the other hand, then encouraged Jensen to leave the nursery with me.

UglyThat’s when things really got ugly. Jensen refused to move his pint-sized self. He had his arms over his head with his fists squeezing and shaking at me indicating to me that he wanted to be carried. His face was scrunched up in anger and he was now screeching at me. I was going to have to carry him. I picked him up and told myself that I could carry 60 lbs out of the Y, down the zig zag ramp, through the parking lot and to my car. No problem.

I encouraged myself every step of the way as Jensen yelled in my ear. I could make it. It would be fine. People stared at me as I went but I really didn’t care. Surprisingly these temper tantrums don’t embarrass me in the least. He’s a kid. If an adult has a problem with my 21-month old having a meltdown I believe it’s the adult who lacks maturity. The child is doing exactly what they do at this age whether it’s tortuously annoying or not.

Finally I got within a row of my car. My back clenched up and I simply could not take another step with my load. I put everybody and everything down in the parking lot. Predictably Jensen’s response was to turn the volume up another notch. It didn’t matter. His shrieking was already loud enough to cause permanent hearing damage. Still, I encouraged him to walk but he was having none of it. I was flustered and close to having my own meltdown. Was I stuck just feet from my car? Would we stand here for hours? LOL. Yeah, I got a grip on that. I left my bags lying on the ground and took the kids to the car.

In the car Jensen kept arching his back making getting him into the car seat a nearly impossible task. I took a deep breath and pushed on. With Jensen buckled and still screaming I went to the other side to get Maddie secured in the car. By this time she was screaming a bit herself. I couldn’t blame her.

HugAt that moment, I saw a woman walking toward me carrying my bags. She made a kind comment and for a moment I thought she was going to hug me. How strange. I’m sure she wasn’t but I would have accepted a hug from that stranger. I needed some strength to press on.

The constant barrage of noise continued as we drove toward home. Ever so slowly the screams turned to crying then dropped to sobbing, and finally to sup supping. As the sup supping continued I looked in the rear view mirror at my angel son intending to speak some words of consolation only to discover (wait for it) that he was asleep!