Monday, September 28, 2009

For the past year, I have been trying to keep hours at the health club as a Pilates trainer and teach group exercise classes and, somehow, not put my children in any type of formal daycare. As the days and weeks wore on, I caved. I could not live up to the goals of the health club and my expectations at home, not to mention scrambling for free child care when my allowed hours at the kids zone at the club were expired. Thus brought the crossroad - put the kids in daycare and work a little more full-time so the money exchange was worth it - or - quit Pilates and enjoy every single minute with my crazy kids until they go to school. Pilates claimed time, sweat, tears of frustration and precious moments away from my family beginning when my daughter was only 5 weeks old. For what? To quit when the going got tough? I have invested over a year of training, practicing, studying, and being away from home to find this outlet in my life that might help our family financially and serve as a way to challenge my mind.

Truth is, I love to work. I love to make money. I always have. I enjoy the challenge and the camaraderie of the workplace and I love to see the money get deposited into my account. I can't help it.

Then, there are my clients. My sweet ladies who trust me with their insecurities. Who show up and I know they are worried that they don't have on the right garment or that they are too heavy or too out of shape to merit hiring a Pilates trainer, of all things. I took that seriously and personally. I was once like them, vulnerable, yet determined to change the status quo of my body and health. I love seeing the struggle and sheer surprise when something is hard, yet they are able to succeed. When my 54-year-old client can pull her overweight torso in to a teaser on the Cadillac, I clap, I can't help myself. I remember the first day I ran for twenty minutes on the treadmill without stopping. I thought I was an athlete. Somebody give me a uniform and put me in the game - I was so confident! With in a year, my fitness trainer talked me into running a full marathon. 5 hours and 26.2 miles later, I laid down and wept at what my body could do, what strength God had revealed to me. My trainer was right, one more squat never killed me, it made me stronger. Not my body, one more squat did little for my legs, but for my mind. Pushing through made me confident. It made me unstoppable and unafraid to push myself beyond my perceived limits.

I have, however, decided to put Pilates on hold until my children are older. I do not want to regret missing this time and experience in their lives that will be gone before I can blink. I want to try my hand at this crazy and impossible job because it has always been a life dream. So here I am, in the throws of "stay-at-home" mom world and I am overwhelmed at the task at hand. My kids are spirited and dynamic and high maintenance and I love every single cell of their bodies, BUT - this is HARD. I am tired. And (like all moms) I need a break. I often look longingly at the list of daycare facilities that lies next to my computer so, I am pretending that I am in training again. Although it is hard, frustrating, seemingly impossible with few results thus far, I must push on. I must break free from my perceived limits and find my unstoppable attitude. One more more diaper change, one more disastrous trip to Target, one more load of laundry, one more time-out, one more Lego tower, one more pillow fort... I have to trust the pay off will be greater than I can imagine. I am praying for the day when I can lay down and weep at what I was able to do.