Yesterday Maddie and I went to our first Mommy and Me Yoga Class. Actually, it was our first Mommy and Me anything. Usually, our “Mommy and Me” time is “Mommy desperately typing and making ten phone calls while Me screams instead of napping.”
To give full disclosure, it was Maddie’s first baby yoga class, but hardly mine. By the time Maddie’s oldest brother was four months old, he and I had attended infant massage, music for babies, breastfeeding support groups, new mom support groups, Strollercize, AND mommy and me yoga, as often as possible. We got around. When you’re home with your first baby, it’s all about having somewhere to go, something to build your day around. Once you have three kids, you have plenty of places to go. When you actually get to be with just your baby, you’re thrilled, because that means you can stay home for a change.
Anyway, it was a beautiful day yesterday, and feeling a little guilty that Maddie never really goes anywhere, off we went to Mommy and Me Yoga. (OK, maybe a little of my motivation was that I prepaid for eight classes before she was born– what was I thinking??– and have six weeks left to use them.) And having returned to the Mommy and Me world, let me just say: you cannot go home again. Mommy and Me Yoga is the world of the first-time mother.
Why do I say that? Because I showed up with my purse, my stroller, and her. OK maybe a diaper. But that was it. These other mothers arrived with multiple blankets (do NOT let your baby lie on the actual blankets provided by the yoga studio!), jangly toys, Marimekko changing pads, monogrammed burp cloths, Pee Pee Tee Pees, the whole wazoo. Maddie looked like a pauper, lying there with nothing to chew on but my iPhone.
Then, as I was setting up my mat, this conversation happened on either side of me:
SAMSON’S MOMMY: I’m so ready for it to be spring.
DESMOND’S MOMMY: I know, me too. The only thing is the subway.
SAMSON’S MOMMY: What do you mean?
DESMOND’S MOMMY: Well you know how you have to go down the steps? And I have Desmond in the Bjorn, so I have to hold on to the railing, but that’s so disgusting. But at least in the winter you have gloves on.
SAMSON’S MOMMY: I see what you mean.
DESMOND’S MOMMY: But what do you do when the weather gets warmer? I guess I could go down without holding the railing.
SAMSON’S MOMMY: (unsure about that) Yeah, maybe.
DESMOND’S MOMMY: Or I could get some, you know, latex gloves.
I’m sitting there, not sure if I should speak up in case I’m being Punk’d or something. Finally, another mother pipes in:
ZAID’S MOMMY: You know what you could do?
I’m thinking she’s going to say “Relax.” Or maybe just, “Get a babysitter and go to yoga without him.” But instead, Zaid’s mommy offers this:
ZAID’S MOMMY: You could get fingerless gloves for the warm weather. And then hold on to the railing like this. (She demonstrates how to palm a railing without using your fingers.)
SAMSON’S MOMMY: Oh my gosh, yes!
DESMOND’S MOMMY: I’ll do that. Thanks.
At this point, I was very glad I’d kept my mouth shut. I’d brought Maddie there on the BUS. They might have called Protective Services on me.
Yes, this was an actual conversation. And yes, those were their kids’ real names. The moms’ names? Who knows? Who cares? They are in that special time of their lives when they have set sail from the Island of Reason, not to return for nigh on a year. I could have told them that. But, I think, that’s something you’re better off figuring out yourself.