Fitness Classes

I decided to finally attempt a mums and baby fitness class. I was anxious, NOT about being fit, or whether she’d scold me for having an ill fitting sports bra. But because my glorious 1 year old likes to eat, pretty much all the time. And the class was 11–12 — right bang in the middle of snack and lunch time.

But I got ready, packed 1000 snacks and an easy to eat, non high chair requiring sandwich lunch for her. Got my kit on, including ill fitting sports bra. Got excited about actually doing something for myself, after spending the past year living by her schedule.

Got there on time. And as my daughter is pretty predictable (greedy?) she started signing for food as soon as we arrived. God, I’m so organised I thought, and gave her a slice of apple.

Hoiked her into the sling. And the class started — few lunges, a few squats, a bit of grapevine. Nothing too hardcore. The apple vanished. More signing for food. Another slice of apple. Please let me finish the class…

Right, its almost her lunch time — I’m starting to sweat — I’ve been lugging her around for 20 mins in the carrier. I am DETERMINED to do the class, whether she’s hungry or not.

So I did what every other mother would do. I gave her the cheese sandwich to eat, whilst still in the carrier.

And carried on with the various lunging and squatting. Starting to really sweat now, the little one weighs about a stone and a half — she’s really upping my weight training game here.

Oof. Its time to get her out of the sling so we can do some floor work.

I’m definitely sweaty.

Hang on. Thats a bit itchy.

Yes. That’s cheese sandwich down my cleavage. Right in it. She shoved half a sucked cheese sandwich down my top whilst I was grapevining to Beyonce.

It is impossible to retrieve without taking my clothes off.

:(

The rest of the class passed without much incidence. She quite happily dragged the rest of her sandwich along the floor whilst we did some core work. And then ate it, obviously. I attempted sit ups, side leg raises, and press ups. With a cheddary cleavage.

We haven’t been back.

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