The Mom Workout

The Mom Work Out

“Faster, mommy! Faster!” They chant, and plead, and encouragingly discourage all at once as they jump and clap and bounce with energy and smiles. I try to comply but its too fast, already, and I wonder if Marion Jones’ kids do the same thing to her. Its not that I don’t appreciate the cheering, its just that my legs are too short, and I’m simply not a Cheetah, or a race car.

“Awe, man, mom! you are done?!”
“Yes, done,” as I pant and gasp and drip sweat.
“Why are you wet?” he asks.
“Swimmin!” she replies.
“No swimming,” I shake my head.
“Ok, so you are going to bike now?” he asks again.
“No, I just went running, didn’t you see?”
“Well, that wasn’t very long. You should bike too,” he says as I wonder when I birthed such a tough personal trainer.

I climb on the bike, deciding, he’s right, I could use a few more minutes, and they are occupied and enjoying, the baby is asleep, and this much time to work out hardly ever happens. So I pedal and climb and just as I get into my mountain stride, Josie flips the switch with a giggle, and the bike loses power and so do I.

“I like this song, Mom. Is it Sublime?” he comments on Pandora, as I question whether or not I’m impressed or frightened by his song recognition. I lean towards frightened and switch to “Old McDonald.”

“Time for burpies!” he says with conviction. Again, I wonder when and how he became such a demanding meathead. “Ok, let’s do ten!” I muster up the energy. I do one, as they complete three, clapping and jumping better and higher and I notice I’m biting my cheek and grinding my teeth and they are giggling and flailing around continuing to chant their “faster!” mantra.

Their combined age is 5 and they are whooping my bum.

They hang from the pull up bar and she kicks me in the head. I catch her on the floor and decide to lay down, and when I think we are done, I find him sitting on my feet. “Time for sit ups, mom. Ready? Go!”

I’m confused, aren’t I the boss? My quivering core suggests otherwise. He counts as high as he can and I hope that’s all he has on his list. “What’s next, King James?”

“Cookies and Marshmallows!” he exclaims as she cheers in approval.

“Sounds good.”

 

Happy Hump Day.

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