The gym

I'm a bit of a gym rat. But I don't go regularly for the obvious reason of getting into shape, though that does seem to be a by-product. No, I go for the daycare. I go because it's the one hour a day that I get all to myself. Barring poopy diapers or too much crying, they get to go play in the chaos with all the other children whose mothers or fathers are all too happy to ditch them in the daycare for a brief reprieve.

Now that I've admitted my true purpose in going to the gym, I'll also admit that I don't go pretty. I go ugly. I'm going to go get sweaty and gross, so I don't wear makeup, and my hair is usually in some semblance of a pony tail. I go ugly and so do my children. The other children at the gym are all dressed and groomed. And then there's my children. Hair all messy and usually in the mismatched PJ's they wore to bed.

One day I ran into a neighbor who was arriving as I was leaving. She told me how amazed she was that I got there so early. Her children were neatly groomed. I'm not the type of mother who can do both, I pick one. Early to the gym, or presentable children. Early to the gym wins. My children can be presentable later.