Working It Out

At 21 years old I had a seven-month-old girl. A friend invited me to a Jazzercise class held at a church in Pensacola, Florida. I went. It was fun.

That first class, my husband kept baby girl home.  I was excited to be able to exercise, and on the days when he couldn’t keep her, there was a nursery. It would be great to get out and get in shape!

Sure enough, the day came when Daddy had to work during Mommy’s Jazzercise class, so baby girl was loaded into the Fairmont and deposited in the nursery upon arrival at the church.

After filling out all of the official grown-up paperwork that came with being responsible for a tiny human, Mommy claimed her spot on the crowded floor, and began following the instructor’s warm-up routine.

Ahh…This is the life. I have an hour to exercise and not think about anything.

The tap on the shoulder came during song three. That’s the one where you are starting to get moving up the heart-rate curve. It seems that a certain baby girl needed her mommy, and no amount of consoling would work.

Grateful for the attentiveness of the child-care workers in seeking me out and not allowing my sweet baby to go into distress, I gathered my mat, collected my hand weights, and returned to the nursery.

Baby sniffles with red-rimmed eyes reached out and clung to me like a little lemur. Sniff, sniff, shudder. Sniff, sniff, shudder. I patted her back and bounced her up and down a bit, thanking the nursery staff profusely while collecting her belongings.

Little girl balanced on my hip, digging her eyes with lamb blankie, clutching my hair, lest I have the audacity to put her down again.

This motherhood adventure was going to be a little different than I expected. Make that a lot different.

Is there really a week until her wedding?

One week from today will be about getting nails and hair done and preparing for a ceremony and party. That clutching, red-rimmed eyed baby girl will be donning a dress and walking down an aisle to clutch on and cling to someone else. As it should be.

This morning, though, she will Jazzercise with me, completing yet another circle, as we continue the beginning of the endings, while working off a bit of that wine.

5 thoughts on “Working It Out

  1. Pingback: Overflowing | Composting the Heart

Thanks for heart-composting with me! I appreciate your words.

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