Calling my Bluff

Here's a new one. Last week I asked the girls what they'd rather do: go home and watch a movie or go to the gym. The only reason why I gave them the option is because I was sure they would pick the movie. See, giving them the option made it appear that I was making an effort to get to the gym. I rationalized opening myself up to gym failure because I had run that morning. The yoga class would be icing if I made it. Thing is we spent all day at a friend's house, lounging in perfect sunny weather, swimming in the lake, eating yummy food. By 3:30 I was sun drunk. Watching a movie with my eyes closed in our dark basement seemed like a nice way to cap off our day. So imagine my surprise when the girls sang out unanimously, "Go to the Gym!" 

Huh? Really? 

Have we crossed to the other side when I don't have to bargain for an hour of "me time"? As pooped as I was, how could I let them down? Besides, they called my bluff, smart little buggers.

Deep down I knew that yoga class would re-energize me; 40 percent of me really wanted to go; another 40 percent didn't; and the remaining 20 percent needed to be persuaded one way or the other. This is when having training partners can work in your fitness favor. Now, it seems, my own children can help motivate me. I'm still surprised at this new turn of events. After five years of feeling like I have to scrape together time to workout and fight against the mother guilt when I do, apparently it's OK now.

I'm still feeling a little tentative about their enthusiasm for the gym. It's like that first time the baby sleeps through the night and you think that you're free from night-wakings forever. Wrong! I'm sure I'll have to maintain my bribery, er, negotiating skills (which sometimes involve ice cream) but it was nice to have the tables turned, to have them talk me into going to the gym. How fun to think there might be a day in our future when I don't drop them off in the childcare center, but instead have them accompany me during my workout.