If you live in South Jersey and you overhear a mother talking about needing to go to the gym, it’s safe to assume that she is not actually going to work out (gasp), but rather, she is heading to Little Gym with her little ones in tow for 45 minutes of running, jumping, tumbling, and, of course, sharing germs. She, in fact, may even be wearing some sort of lycra or spandex, which gives the illusion that a workout is imminent, but keep in mind this is Jersey…any excuse to wear it.*
My venting does not, however, concern Jersey couture…though I cannot wait for that post. It is, in fact, the dynamics of a few mothers at our Little Gym who refuse to let a little thing like their children’s development get in the way of social hour.
Do not misunderstand me: I enjoy chatting with other mothers…misery loves company when your 7 month old insists on breaking four teeth all on the same day…but the particular coven I am about to describe goes above and beyond the call of negligence.
Here’s how they roll: They begin the class by picking up with the conversation they left off with last week, as their children bang on the doors and windows of the classroom, eager to enter and get someone to pay them some attention. Even though their children quickly gain access into the room, it still takes them a good ten minutes to notice that fact and we are already shaking our bells (and our heads) by the time they bless us with their presence. (By this point, their children have assaulted other children, ripped the parachute, and left a suspicious stain on the big, red mat). Though they may join in on the opening activities at this point, they remain seated in their little circle, while the children enjoy open play. Again, their children are off on their own to injure themselves and others…and the rest of us actually have to step over and around them to interact with our own kids. They talk loudly about how their husbands don’t listen to them (uh…I wonder why?) and how their kids are such brats (again….hmmm) and never once do they stop to check on their spawn, Pathetic, frustrating, and fun for the rest of us to talk about. (I realize I’m not in high school anymore….but I sure like to visit every once in awhile).
Here’s the rub: If anything serious every happened to their precious offspring, you know they’d sue the Little Gym. On the bright side, any lawsuit may give them the opportunity to invest in more lycra and time with their friends.
***As for Jersey fashion, I now consider myself an assimilated Jersey girl and any jokes I make are from love, loyalty, and livin’ on a prayer. Rock on, sisters.
I'm 32, a dad, and I am not a douchebag...
6 years ago