Tracey (it turns out that she doesn't actually spell her name with an "i", much to my dissapointment) was good to me last night. I had to follow her around for an hour while she said things like, "This is a Nautilus machine. It's usually easier for people to start out training on them becauase they keep your body in proper alignment. Now I'm going to show you how to work your ab muscles, which are the ones in your stomach."
I wanted to tell her that I used to lift weights three times a week for three years in college, but now I'm an overweight Mommy with a layer of blubber (referred to as a "shelf" by other Mommybloggers) that overhangs my sweet-ass C-section scar. I did what most people should do in that circumstance - I kept my mouth shut and nodded.
My stomach and legs are feeling my workout from yesterday, even though it was minimal. I just have to look at a flight of stairs and my quads start shaking and my calves say, "Don't do it. I'll be so sore tomorrow you will regret that you didn't take the elevator." Calves are usually one of the only muscles that I listen to unquestionably.
In other Mommy-helper news, I've had a couple of people interested in the world's easiest position, also known as: sitting in my apartment making sure nothing happens while Zac is asleep. I'm interviewing this week and taking a serious look at my finances to make sure that I can do all of this. Sometimes my grand ideas don't match the realities of my bank account. As I found out earlier today when I realized that I couldn't double all of the payments on my credit cards AND pay for my car repair deductible and inspection fee AND pay for my initial dentist visit AND buy a dental savings plan in the same month. I suck. I'm trying to learn more as I grow older and mature into this whole, "responsible for someone" business of being a parent. I wish I was better at it.
Fortunately, I'm feeling pretty good about things, even if Zac refused to take a nap yesterday at daycare and was the world's crankiest child at the gym yesterday. It's a fine line to walk between, "Ok, baby, you didn't sleep well? We'll stay home and watch 'Dancing with the Stars'," and, "Tough shit, kid. Mommy hasn't slept well in almost two years. Get your little diapered butt into the car seat."