The Gym Membership

I just finished ordering SOME of the curriculum I will be needing for the upcoming school year.  Just for kicks and grins, my pal Melissa and I discussed how much it would cost me to send my four cherubs to private school.

Never mind the fact that I already know I can’t afford it.

Never mind the fact that it is a one hour drive each way to transport said cherubs.

Never mind the fact that Little Dude would be in Kindergarten and would only go half day, making my life all that much more complicated.

Never mind the fact that all of my kids love being homeschooled and, sadly, I am the only one left wondering if there is a better life out there somewhere.

I needed to know if I could possibly make it work.

No.  The answer was no.  A big, fat no, in case you were curious.  It was  basically like adding another house payment to our finances.

NO.  No, no, no.

So, I placed a big, fat curriculum order instead.  It was pretty large-ish in the cost department as well, but nowhere near the cost of private school.

I get all excited-like when it comes to curriculum.  I tend to think we have all the time in the world and then I start to get panicky looking at all the options and trying to figure out what all we can do.  I want to do it all!  And then I feel tired and want to put them in school.

I am sure this is all completely normal, right?  I am sure I am not alone in these thoughts, right?

Right.

So I got all stressed out and made another pie.  Because pie is the answer to all my education problems.  Obviously.

Guess what kind of pie I made . . . I know you can do it!

In other news, we got a gym membership. (Because we eat a lot of pie) It sounded like a good idea at the time . . .

It was a really good deal.  $50 a month for the whole family.  All classes/personal trainers included in that price and no contract.  How could I resist?

The gym is in a town 15 minutes away from us and is actually quite nice.  Sadly, they do not open early enough for me to go by myself before Sir Lumberjack departs for the day and they are not open late enough for me to go in the evenings when Sir Lumberjack returneths.

So take the kids I shall.

Taking four kids to the gym.  Not easy. The packing alone is a workout.

We start out on the basketball court.  The kids “play” basketball and I “run” around the court.

When I say “play,” I of course mean they bicker and argue with each other and ask me when they can go swimming.

When I say “run,” I of course mean I run 2 laps, basically die, then walk 1 lap until a mile has been completed.

Taylor.  The portrait of fitness.  Be envious.

Now, I hate having people watch me and I know like two people in this town and one of them has always been there working out.  It is all so stressful for me.  I am sure the aforementioned person is judging me.  Because I have a healthy self image.

But today!  Today was really strange.  As I was completing one of my walk-because-if-I-run-anymore-I’ll-die-laps, a trainer-man stopped me.

I have never seen this human in my entire existence.

Trainer Man:  Hey!  I have some tips for you.  Can you come and see me when you are done with your workout?

And I am thinking to myself:  Great, Taylor.  You can’t even run/walk correctly.  They have to send the trainers TO you.

Me:  Um, ok.  But I will have my kids with me.

Trainer Man (chuckling at me):  Well, it’s not like I am taking you anywhere!

What does that MEAN?  I had no idea what sort of “tips” he would be offering me.  I merely assumed I was walking incorrectly.  And I probably was.

So he left and came back a few minutes later and apparently he thought I was some other gal and he had me confused with her.

Good news!  Apparently my walking skills are just fine, my friends.  Just fine.

After the fun (and I use the term fun quite loosely) gym portion of the workout, we must go to the family locker rooms to change into swim attire.

I usually only lose my patience once during this portion of the morning.

Then we swim.

The first day, I didn’t get to swim because I was too busy keeping Little Dude alive.  The second day, I put on my big girl panties and asked the lifeguard if they had life jackets available.

They did!  I threw one on each of the boys and now I am able to get in some exercise as well.

Me!  A swimmer AND a person who walks correctly!

Watch out, people.  I am the next Jillian Michaels.

Later, dudes.