Why I Don't Work Out

I blew the dust off of my work out DVD's....hmmm...pilates. That should ease me back into it. No hard core aerobics...just some nice stretching-type moves. All three children were asleep. I have time.

I don't have a mat, so I lay down a blanket, nudging the baby toys out of the way. I hear Connor wake up. Man.

I bring him out and sit him in the exersaucer, and hit "play." The first move requires me to put my legs straight up in the air, lift my head and shoulders off the floor and rapidly flap my arms up and down. My legs don't go straight. My stomach roll becomes more of a stomach hill, quivering as I try to hold the position. My cat misinterprets the arm flaps for an invitation to come flop down beside me, causing me to smack his butt. Instead of being offended, he rolls to the side to give me a better angle. Stupid masochistic cat. I try to shove him out of the way. Connor squeals.

Finally the stupid upside down bird exercise is done, but I hear Irelynn calling me from her room. I hit "pause" and go get her. She immediately grabs the remote to try and change the channel. I tell her that I'm watching this DVD right now, and she needs to wait.

"What are you doing, Mommy?"

"I'm exercising."

"Oh."

She sits down next to me to do the exercises with me. I notice immediately that not only is she much more flexible than I am, but she also can execute each move much better.

I am beginning to realize how much I am sweating, despite doing exercises called "single leg stretch." I knew I was out of shape, but this was ridiculous. I find myself following the lady on the far right of the screen...the one showing how to do the moves for beginners. Or old people.

As I am "rolling like a ball," trying to ignore my toddler's giggles, I hear Connor scream. I abruptly stop to look back at him, but realize that he is merely yelling at the other cat, who is sitting in front of him, just staring. Connor grins, and yells again, this time waving his hands in the air. The cat cocks his head to the side. I roll my eyes, and concentrate on the leg kick series.

The first cat comes over, noticing the drawstring on my sweatpants, and begins to bat at it. I again try to shoo him away, almost losing my balance. Irelynn has now lost interest, and is joining in on the yelling game with the other cat.

I swing my leg awkwardly, accidentally punting the masochistic cat. I roll onto my back, just in time to have the other cat climb up on my stomach and lay down. Irelynn bends over, looking down at me.

"Mommy...I want juice. And Dora."

((sigh))

Juice and Dora it is. I was getting rather fond of my stomach roll, anyway.