YMCA FAIL

You know what, when it's 10 degrees out, I do not feel like going outside. I feel like staying cozy indoors under my fluffy blanket. I do not feel like putting on shorts and running shoes, bundling up the kids into their layers, coats, and hats, putting on my own coat, packing the diaper bag, warming up the car, shlepping each kid out individually into the car while freezing my own ass off, driving to the Y, parking, opening up the trunk, getting out the double stroller, getting kid #1 out and strapped into the stroller, getting kid #2 out and strapped into the stroller, and then booking it to the building before the kids break into 800 pieces because they froze to death.

I do not feel like doing those things when it is 10 degrees out. But I do them, because of how I feel when the first mile is under my belt, when I'm warmed up, when my body is running smoothly, when everything is working together and my muscles are getting tired and my heart is light and happy. I do it because of how I feel after the run, when I am loose and motivated, when I am ready to stretch and lift some weights. I do it because of how I feel when I am going back to the car for the drive home, and I don't even notice the cold because my core is warm. I do it for those feelings.

BUT IF NORA CANNOT HANDLE THE CHILDCARE ROOM THEN I DON'T GET ANY OF THAT GOOD STUFF.

Instead, I get only one mile under my belt before I'm pulled away from the gym by the childcare lady, who has a desperate look in her eye and tells me that Nora has been crying inconsolably for the past 10 minutes. 1 mile is crap. It's barely enough for me to get warmed up. I don't get anything out of a measly freaking mile. I don't get the benefits of a workout. I don't get to feel good. Instead I've gone through all of the crappy parts, the cold, the shlepping, the packing, the strapping in, the coats, the hats, all of that stuff for NOTHING.

I put Milo into the childcare room first and he was fine, playing with some sort of miniature bus. Then I put Nora down and she was fine too...until I started to leave. Then she freaked. So I stayed for a while, playing with the kids with some baby dolls and books. Nora can point to the nose of the doll and say "nose". But she didn't want to let me out of her grasp. I couldn't get her to walk or play with anything, she just clung to me. The childcare lady said that I might as well give it a try, they'd hold her and I would leave and we'd see how it went. So that's what I did. And she cried the whole time. When they pulled me out of the gym I returned to all of the childcare workers (there were like 4 or 5 at the time) holding at least one baby, and all of the babies were crying, led by Nora. She had set up a giant crystorm among all the babies. Except, curiously, Milo. He was still playing with the dolls and the cars and the giant legos and having a good old time. He was watching the bigger kids, the preschoolers, with total fascination and saying "hi!" So Milo was just fine today, but Nora most decidedly was not.

What a crock. The head of the childcare team told me that I should just keeping trying, and hopefully she would eventually be okay with it. But the motivation to go through all of this giant hassle week after week with no actual payoff is small. It is frustrating.

Oh, and that lady who had octuplets? I'm amazed at how big and healthy they all are. All I can say is, good luck to her. She'll need an army to take care of that many newborns.