Tales from the Y

Working out in the Y family center is an experience.  Notice I didn't say "great experience" or "bad experience" because it's both.  It's great I can work out with my children safely contained in view behind a plexiglass barrier and it's bad because my children are right there in view with only a plexiglass barrier containing them.  Oh, to finish a workout without having to stop and hunt for a lost binky or comfort someone suffering from a flying lego injury.  (I do dream big, don't I?)  I take solace though in seeing all the other frazzled parents dealing with the same issues.

So here's some things I've heard while working out in the family center:

• "Honey, please put your brother's pants back on.  No, no.  On him."
  
• "Mommy, Parker has a stinky diaper and...  he just put his hand in it!"  (I guarantee that mom has never run on the treadmill as fast as she did off of that treadmill.)
  
• A ridiculously loud woman shouting to her (I hope) friend about how her teenage "son's girlfriend must look GORGEOUS NAKED because he can't keep his hands off of her!"
  
• "If I have to come in there one more time NO SUBWAY FOR YOU!"  (There's a restaurant in the lobby and all us parents turn into Subway Nazis eventually.)
  
• A young man on the elliptical fighting with (I'm guessing) his baby's mama on his cell phone.  Most memorable phrase, "baby, don't... don't be doing me like that."
  
• "Daddy.  Daddy.  DADDY!  Daddy!  DAH-DEE!  Daddy.  Daddy.  Daddy!  Dahhh-Deeeeeee!"
  
• Me mumbling to myself, "is this really as loud as my iPod volume goes?"

Fun times.  Fun times.

P.S.  I know those personal tvs on the machines are fabulous, but if you don't have kids with you DON'T WORK OUT IN THE FAMILY CENTER!  Join the other blissful child-free adults in the main room, you moron.

k