One of the real saviors for me has been the gym. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I'm actually in pretty good shape. I bust gluteus five days a week. I spend 50-60 minutes on the elliptical/treadmill/arc trainer and 15 minutes or so strength training. The truth is I really don't enjoy working out. I hear people all the time talking about how much they love it, but I am not one of them. Nine months in, it is definitely a habit, but not a pleasurable one. The real reason I go? The gym day care. For that hour and 15 minutes, it is all about me. Some days it is the slender thread that holds me to my sanity. And that's no exaggeration, folks.
Yesterday, after a couple of particularly rough days, I was feeling all run down and frustrated and squingy. (Daylight savings is no friend of mine.) The morning had not been especially pleasant, punctuated by a huge fight to get Sophie in clothes and a diaper because my girl is all about going au naturel these days. I was in bad need of a workout, so off to the gym we went.
When we walked into the childcare room, there was another mommy at the desk checking her kids out. She turned around as we approached and noticed Sophie at my side. Her face lit up and she said "HI SOPHIE!!" I was taken aback a little. I know my daughter is a friendly sort, but I hadn't really expected her to be on a first name basis with other members of the gym that I didn't even know. Then the woman tells me that her kids love Sophie and they talk about her all the time. How disappointed they're going to be for missing her.
Isn't that always the way.
Just when I'm settling in for a good wallow, that girl of mine has to puff me up with pride and make me all smiley.