Monday, May 7, 2012

An Exercise in Mother's Day

This morning was my first time back to Jazzercise in months. While I'm teaching bible study I just can't do the exercise class, too. By the time I go to the class at 9, get back home and cleaned up, it's 11 a.m. and most of my day is gone. Or so it seems. But MOMs is over for the semester and I'm lamenting what five months away from "jazzin'" has done to me. If you know me well you know that one of my mottos is to do nothing that makes me hurt, sweat or smell bad so Jazzercise puts me way out of my comfort zone. So much so that one day when I stopped to get gas on the way home from jazzin' someone at the pump looked at me kind of funny and asked, "Are you okay?" Sure I am. I'm just enjoying a near death experience so that I can be in shape which I guess means I'm not quite there yet.

Well, I get in there today and reintroduce myself to all of my exercise friends, find out what's happening with them and their children, write my check and get on to class with Brandi who really knows how to run the show. So much so that I call it "Killercise" or in the case today, "Jazzerthighs." I probably won't be walking again any time soon. I hope my dog Sam doesn't need to go out today. It's not happening.

We exercise to  all kinds of music which has actually broadened  my current music horizons and while we were getting our heart rate up there somewhere over Mach 2 Brandi mentioned Mother's Day and that we might need to stick up a post it note for the benefit of those who will be wracked with guilt come Sunday morning if they've forgotten. Oh no! Brandi and Mother's Day. I'm thinking how I hope she won't play that song...what's it called..."In My Daughter's Eyes" by Martina McBride. Please, please, please, Brandi don't play that. Play "Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys" or "Mama told Me (Not to Come)" but not that daughter's eyes song.

I'm not usually prone to respond to songs with spontaneous combustion type sobbing in public. Well, unless you don't count church...For All the Saints, Like a River Glorious, How Sweet and Awesome is the Place, The Power of the Cross. Or at a performance of Les Mis...I Dreamed a Dream. I'm a gonner. I keep boxes of tissues neatly folded in Ezekiel. It's just that I have a really hard time stretching my  traps listening to Martina sing "I see who I want to be in my daughter's eyes." No, I'm really fine, Brandi, I just have a cramp in my EYELID...."A reflection of who I am and what will be, And though she'll grow and someday leave, Maybe raise a family, When I'm gone I hope you see, How happy she made me, For I'll be there, In my daughter's eyes..." Brandi says these lyrics are tender.  I call them gut-wrenching. Reminds me of the little grandmother book one of the girls gave me for Christmas one year. I "just happened" to open to the page that reads, "Being a grandmother is like being given a second chance." Waaaaa.

Back to jazzin'. While I'm hoping my hamstrings don't pop and that I'll have two Achilles tendons in place when I try to walk toward the door, I devise the solution to my "Cry Me a River" daughter's eyes stretching-while-sobbing session. I'll just sing Onward Christian Soldiers. I can't sing very loud anyway since I'm already mostly dead and if I can just make it through two more lines...

"And the world is at peace, This miracle God gave to me, Gives me strength when I am weak, I find reason to believe, In my daughter's eyes"...I certainly do. But if I try to write just now about what they have done to bless me I'll sob some more and I have to go get some gas in my car and that person at the pump will ask, "Are you okay?" and he wouldn't believe me when I'd answer, "Never been better. Yes, sir. Never been better."


  1. This is great. And I love picturing you at Jazzercise!! I am impressed. You are certainly a great mother!

    1. Sweet Katy...still working hard at Jazzin and at mothering.