Don’t mess with the mommies in workout gear.

The prep for the 10 am dance class at my gym starts at 7:30.

Breakfast for Bam Bam. Different breakfast for me. Washing of the face. Brushing of my teeth and Bam Bam’s teeth. Then, the buttering up for “Kid’s Club” at the gym:

Are you excited to go to Kid’s Club?

Won’t it be fun to play with Amber there?

Do you want to bring one toy? What toy do you want to bring?

We will ride in the elevator!!

Sure, you can watch Curious George before we go.

Basically, I do whatever I can to ensure Bam Bam is in the best mood possible, and will not scream the second I try to walk out that Kid’s Club door.

Then it takes us at least 20 minutes to get out the door. The boy needs to put his shoes on by himself- which he is not skilled at. He changes his mind about the cheerios he wanted to bring, and instead wants a fruit bar. He has to open the car door “together with mommy”, and buckle himself into his carseat all by himself.

Once parked in the parking lot, it takes another 20 minutes to physically walk to the actual gym. We have to walk through an outdoor mall, and Bam Bam must walk BY HIMSELF. This means, walking forward two steps, backward one step, then stepping only with the left foot first, and facing the side. Then it is absolutely imperative that we run to see the big water fountain, push the button for the elevator we’re not getting in, and pretend to pet the big marble horsie.

My point is, that by the time we actually reach the gym- I better be able to fucking work out.

***

Bam Bam and I push open the doors to the gym “together with mommy”, and are greeted by a swarm of unhappy looking women with toddlers at their feet, running circles around them, or clinging from their necks. I take a deep breath, pick Bam Bam up into my arms, and head over to the check in desk thinking- this can’t be good.

I see a waiting list of about twenty names- all waiting to get into the Kid’s Club, which is apparently at capacity, and cannot take any more kids at the moment. This class I am hoping to attend is very popular, and I’m sure most of us are here for that.

I would not have been so upset, if I hadn’t already had to turn around and go home three other times this month.

I will not mention the name of the gym- but it rhymes with 24 flower schmitness.

Anyway, I look over at another mom, who has three kids with her, and actual steam coming out of her ears. I ask her-

How long have you been here?

An hour. I got here an hour before the class. I’ve been shut out of Kid’s Club before. I came early. An hour early. An hour.

Sheesh

It’s important to point out that it is ten o’clock in the morning on a weekday. Ergo, almost every mom who is there waiting for Kid’s Club has a child too young for school. I’m talking four and under, people…

That means it’s freakishly hard to get to the gym in the first place. I have to work around mealtimes, errands, grocery shopping, play dates, and the ever precious nap schedule. My child is two. TWO. Every menial task that needs to be accomplished before we make it through those gym doors, takes fifty times longer than it normally should.

At this point, Bam Bam decides he can no longer sit quietly in my arms, and he squirms his way down to go say hi to some baby twins.

A young lady behind the desk informs us that the woman with the twins may have a long wait ahead of her. Any child under 18 months counts as three children. This is a state law involving the child to worker ratio.  It turns out that this mom with the 14 month old twins has to actually wait for six spots to open up. And since she is ahead of almost all of us… we also have to wait.

The tension in the room is building, but it would be un-mom of us to be angry at this poor mother with the twins. She has enough to worry about already.

Then…

BAM!

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Someone’s little girl knocks over a cardboard display, that taps a boy in the head ever so slightly. This boy begins to scream bloody murder, and it’s like the starter gun to the rest of us. The mom with three kids starts yelling… to the air… and the moms rally right behind.

Are you effing kidding me with this? This is ridiculous!

Of course he’s crying! He’s bored! We’ve been standing here for almost an hour!

Do you know how hard it is to get here?

I’m sorry everybody, we’re just gonna wait a few more minutes, and then I’m taking my twins home.

The class is almost over!

When was the last time you counted how many kids were already back there?

My parking is going to run out! Is someone gonna pay for my parking.

Do you know how hard it was for me get all my kids here?

I NEED TO WORK OUT. This is serious.

It’s hard for us to get here in the first place!

Bobby stop stepping on your sister!

Is there someone I can talk to about this?     Yeah, I’d like to speak to     Me too     Where’s the manager?     This isn’t the first time     Call the manager     I’m canceling my membership   I can’t come back later, I have a toddler     This was my one chance     You have no idea…

The big eyed girl behind the desk doesn’t say a word, but points to a corner office at the end of the hall.

The woman with the three kids, and the steam coming out her ears starts marching over there, and I follow suit. Soon there’s a line right behind me of screaming toddlers and red faced moms.

The manager sees us coming and looks both bewildered and terrified.

As well he should be.

Truthfully, he doesn’t stand a chance.

He starts taking us into his office one by one. Although he’s trying to maintain some sort of privacy, and give the heir of “personal attention”- no one seems to care, and periodically a mom yells into the open office door,

This is insane!

What’s the point of having a membership if you can’t actually workout?

This place sucks!

A mom behind me has a lovely, tired looking little girl clinging to her breast. She has a far away look in her eye, and just starts whispering to me,

I’m a single mom. This is the only time I have. This isn’t right. I need this. I need this time.

Her eyes actually start to well up, and I feel both awkward and empathetic.

The truth is- it’s not just about working out.

It’s about having time for yourself. It’s about not having a little person attached to your hip for just an hour or two. It’s about taking a class, and shaking your booty. It’s about pounding your frustration into that treadmill. It’s about remembering to exhale when you lift a weight, because having a young child seems to just keep you gasping. It’s about looking into the bathroom mirror, after your workout, and seeing just you. Not you on your husband’s arm. Not you with your child in yours. Just you, with empty arms, and sweaty.

I didn’t have to tell the manager any of that when I went into his office. He seemed to already have gotten an earful. I got my next month of membership dues waived, and a very sincere apology.

I scooped Bam Bam up and debated whether or not we should stick around to see if we would get into Kid’s Club. We had already been there an hour, and he looked bored.  I didn’t know how much more he could handle.

He then looked me in the eyes, and proceeded to pee out his pants and all down my shirt.

So, we marched back to our car, covered in piss, stepping with just the left foot first, facing sideways.

***

If you’re at the grocery store, or on the street, or just out and about, and you see a mom in workout gear, with a kid dangling from her neck- don’t mess with her. You have no way of knowing if she’s counting down the seconds until her treadmill time, or if you’re catching her post workout. Unless, she’s covered in sweat.

But that could just be toddler piss- so be kind anyway!

We could cry.

We may scream.

And if we’re ready, and been denied a workout- we will seriously jack you up.