Passions

His voice punches through the noises in the gym while coaching his wrestler to "get hand control." The gym is bouncing with energy. Four teams are going at each other with full force. He loves this. The energy and the drama. He remembers that boy was the state runner up last year at such and such school and wrestled so and so. He needs this to keep him young and sane and connected.
When Tommy coaches he channels his love and experience of wrestling into sweet rewarding victories and comradery that comes with being a model for athletic teen boys.
I want that.
I want to go somewhere to scream and sweat and jump or run and passionately spill over with energy and calorie burning to do what I love.
There is something about being a mother that holds one back. It's not the child or the need to be with her, it's the availability of me.
I am not that available.
Bella will not sit in a nursery while Mommy does (fill in the blank.)

(For the record this is not where I thought this post would go.)

The mommy that I am feels guilty having someone babysit her child while she goes to get her daily sweat. The few hours I get with her during the day are sweet but packed full enough that there is little breathing room in our "schedule."
But, Tommy's schedule is what it is and I am expected, though by no fault of Tommy, to handle it and unless there is a dire emergency there is no need to change. Right?
Wrong.
I need something.
Something to get out the anger built up from some dysfunctions in my life, the job that I choose, the daily aggravation with driving in Charlotte and waiting for everyone to take their time while I rush to please everyone else but me.
Boy am I ranting or what?
That's all.
That's enough for me to get out of my system for now.
Don't worry I'm pretty sure I know what the answer is to all this.
Just renew the dang membership and sit the baby in the nursery for as long as she will put up with it and work it out.
Stationary biking and elliptical riding are my fantasy lately because I feel like my muscles are one by one deflating and dying.
All that work at Funky Fit last Spring and Summer down the drain.
FYI... Funky Fit is the best thing since the juice bar at my gym. The instructors teach you to boogie to hip hop music while you sweat your ___ off. It's not great for preggy people though.