What I hear at the gym

And the gym I am referring to is my son's tiny tots tumble-around or whatever in the world it's called.  Basically, there are about 97 stressed out moms sitting in a waiting area watching our kids do forward rolls through a glass window.

It's not exciting.  They are really just romping around like wild banshees.  Which is why I am willing to pay for it in the winter time - boys are going to act like wild banshees somewhere and I'd rather it not be on my furniture.

I usually take a text book and my daily bible because those are the two things I am always behind in reading.

I faked my reading today and took notes on the conversations going on around me:

"Emmmmmyyyy, I'm right here.  Look here, Emmy, Mommy's right here.  I see you Emmy.  I love you, Emmy.  I'm here Emmy, Mommy's not going anywhere."

"Jude is really struggling with his dismounts.  I try to talk to him about it but he won't listen.  Look, right there.  See?  Look at that dismount.  I get nervous every time it's his turn because he can't stick the dismount."

"Oh, we're on goat milk exclusively."

"I would never have an epidural.  It just wasn't an option for me.  I didn't want to put my child at risk."

"That poor woman works everyday and I just wonder when she has time to see her child?"

"None of us got a single minute of sleep last night because Lucas kept coughing - and he sleeps right between us.  It was awful."

It was eye opening for me because I am usually right in the middle of these conversations, because it's really all mothers talk about when they get together.  It's our lives.  I get it.  But listening to it was pretty humbling.  Also, pretty boring.  

I wonder how our parenting would change if we spent more time talking about our faith, our pain, the poor, our dreams?  I don't know because I don't really do it.  I prefer meaningless banter about the latest line of sippy cups and which preschool is better.

I think I need to get over myself.  Or better yet, I think I need to get over my kids.  I think they need to know that they are not the center of the Universe, that I care about other things too, that I am committed to serving the least, that I am first a Christian woman, then a wife, then a mother.

I think I need to change.  And I'll start by never telling my birth story in public again.  

That's a promise.