I’m sitting in the parking lot of the gymnastics studio. It’s 95 degrees outside, but I’d rather be dripping with sweat than sitting inside that building with all the people.
Oh my gosh, so many people.
It takes 45 minutes to drive to gymnastics, two hours of class, then 45 minutes home.
We do this twice a week.
It’s only been about six weeks of it, and between you and me, I’m totally over it. My back hurts from sitting in the bleachers, my butt is building a callus, and my face hurts from the fake smiles I give all the pretty, preppy, perfect mommies sitting beside me.
I don’t like fake. So those smiles are killing me. But if I don’t fake smile, my real face and feelings toward being there will show, and well, I think this is one time where it’s acceptable to fake it.
I’m currently struggling with whether or not gymnastics is something we should continue. It started as one hour per week, but several weeks ago Alison was asked to be on the competitive team, and now we spend four hours in the gym with over three hours of drive time. Per week.
Both girls love their time here, presently we can afford it, but the time is killing me. And I’m sitting in those bleachers for hourrrrrs.
We have the paper route Monday-Friday afternoons, and on gym nights (Monday and Wednesday) we bust the paper route out, and then I have about 45 minutes to pee, pack snacks, rest, and then off we go to gymnastics.
I don’t love the busyness. This wasn’t my life growing up as a kid. We didn’t do stuff. We came home from school, did homework, ate dinner, watched a show, and went to bed. None of this running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
However, this seems to be the norm for families anymore. And compared to most of the people I know, I have like .2 kids in comparison. I feel like I have zero room for my whiney behavior when all my friends have two, three, and even six times the amount of kids I have.
Buck up, Sarah! Be a mom! Run the errands, go the places! Pack the snacks! Put on your freaking big girl panties!
I could definitely cut gymnastics back to the one hour per week class, but I could tell Alison wasn’t being pushed anymore in her previous class. It was getting to be easy and somewhat boring for her. I love that this new class is pushing her, stretching her, and causing her to have to try harder.
I suppose, when I think about it, Alison’s new class is pushing and stretching me, and causing me to try harder at doing the Mom’ing.
Well, crap. I never saw the ending of this post being that. Learning that.
But there it is. I’m being pushed and stretched to show my girls how much I love them by doing this thing that is not my favorite. They, however, are my favorite.
I will try harder to love them better.