Inside the psyche of a mom on her first post baby gym outing

 

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What a mom of two babies under two looks like in the wild. Notice the characteristic “crazy hair”, and dark, puffy eyes typical of this species.
I went to the gym for the first time since having Bobby this morning, and as usual, my mind was a veritable smorgasbord of scattered, crazy mom thoughts. You want more than anything to get away from your kids for an hour or two, and when you do go away you go a little nuts. So I thought I’d give a little peek inside the wild terrain of a mom brain.

Thoughts while trying to leave the house:

Should I feed or pump before I leave? If I pump will that cause over supply and make Bobby uncomfortable with feeds? If I don’t pump will he never accept a bottle and cause a huge problem down the road? If I feed now when will I need to get back by? If I pump how much do I need to substitute for a feeding? Why is this so confusing!?! Nursing should come with an instruction manual.

-Okay I pumped. He has enough for a bottle from dad. Is this a waste of a bottle? Should I save it for something that’s fun, like drinks out somewhere? I could pump again but then I’ll definitely have over supply. We could do formula but will that make Bobby’s gassiness even worse? Will he even take it? What if he hates dairy formula like Ryland did?

-Okay I need to get going. I’m going to be late to the gym yoga class. Shit what do I wear? I haven’t been to a yoga class in years. What shirt will work with my breastfeeding boobs? What BRA can I even wear? Am I going to look obscene compared to all these put together, non breastfeeding, normal boobed women at the class? Are my boobs too big for yoga?!

-Almost out the door. Maybe I can sneak out before…nope, here comes Ryland. And she sees my keys. She’s crying now. I shouldn’t pick her up it, will just make it worse but…yep, too late, picked her up and now she’s holding on so tight. Do I really need to go to the gym? I can run with her in the jogging stroller. Except it’s 38 degrees out. And she’ll want to get out and walk. And it will end in tears most likely…

Thoughts in the car:

-Alright, made it out the door!! Only feel moderately guilty to have left Ryland crying. She’s with her dada. She’s fine! (Should I have told him to give her a snack around 10? He’ll figure it out, right?)

-Shoot have to get gas. Why do I always need gas when I’m running late?

-Okay got gas, what time is it? Oh crap. There’s no way I’m getting to the gym by 9:30. And there’s nothing worse than walking into a yoga class where everyone is all silent and meditative and judgey. Urg, I hate this newfound lateness that has crept into my life since becoming a mom. I never used to be late. Would always get places too early and have to sit in the car for a while. Now it’s a miracle if I’m ever on time. I’m that person now. No way will I walk into the class late. I’m already intimidated that it will be full of impossibly fit and flexible West End yogis, the women who stand on their heads during warm up as I struggle to touch my toes (who am I kidding? I will never touch my toes), women whose roots aren’t showing and whose hair is not standing vertically up off their head.

-I’ll just work out on my own. I can get a better workout that way. I need it. I really want to lose those last 5ish pregnancy pounds and if I don’t work out it ain’t happening because thanks to breastfeeding, I’m STARVING all the time. I should do spin. That’s what I used to do pre kids. But could I even handle it anymore? Thanks to pregnancy back and hip issues, I’m so horribly out of shape. Would I embarrass myself? What if I fainted on the bike while I was clipped in and just kind of dangled there in mid air? Those studios are so dark maybe no one would notice?

Thoughts at the gym:

Okay I’m doing this. I’m on a bike in a row of bikes, surrounded by…senior citizens. Seems about right. All the young, fit people pound it out on the treadmill and I’ll just be here with the 85 year olds.

-At least this way I can read on the kindle on my phone. Why did it take me so long to use the Kindle app? I can actually read now, while breastfeeding, while Ryland watches a movie. It’s great. Oh right. I swore I would never use an evil Kindle or Nook or any other electronic book over the real thing. Never ever ever I may have said. Oh well…I’ve sold my soul to Amazon once again.

-This is hard. Maybe I’ll just scootch the intensity down, just a little. And there’s a new person on the bike next to me. And he’s in his late 70s. He smiles and waves to me. Is that a knowing look in his eye? A silent welcome to the stationary bike club? Is this who I am now!? Intensity level going back up.

-Should I text R? Is that obnoxious? Just a quick check to see if Bobby took the bottle? I’m not checking up on them. Just to know if I need to hurry to get home.

-Baby took “part of” bottle. What does that mean? Like a sip? An ounce? Half? Resisting the urge to ask for clarification. It’s fine. They’re fine. I’m nuts however.

Thoughts on the way home:

-Ah, endorphins. My old friends. I forgot how good you feel after a workout, even a lame, kind of geriatric one. I should do this more. I should find a way, make it a priority.

-Need to pick up groceries from the Kroger Click List. When the girl comes out with the groceries, I realize unlike when I usually do this, I have no children in my car. Will she judge me for being lazy? There are car seats back there though. She’ll get it.

-What is wrong with me that I worry deeply that the Kroger Click List employees think I’m lazy.

-On the way home. Look how much I’ve accomplished, a workout, groceries. All this and I’ve been up since 4:30 since Bobby had terrible gas issues.

-Why does Bobby have so much gas? Ryland didn’t have this much. Or am I just forgetting? It it something I’m eating? Should I give up dairy? Caffeine (oh God not that, anything but that). Should I talk to a lactation consultant? Am I just making too much of it? Probably.

-As I turn into the neighborhood, half of me misses my kiddos fiercely. Half of me wants to keep driving to Mexico.

-My better half wins out. I can’t wait to see Ryland’s impish grin. I can’t wait for Bobby’s warm sweet snuggles.

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Hard to be anything but thrilled coming home to this sweet face.

 

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