Tumbling Along

Once a week, the routine at my house centers around getting little people fed, rested, and out the door for an evening of gymnastics.

We've been doing this for nearly two years since my daughter decided E1 needed an outlet for all her energy. She's the kind of kid you want to be sure of keeping insurance and a close watch on. The kind who walks off porches without guard rails, climbs outside the safety net on the trampoline, sits on tables and runs on benches. When she's a little older she'll probably want to skateboard and do a lot of tree climbing.

So Mom found a gymnastics studio and enrolled 2-year-old E1 in a parent-tot class, or in our case a grandparent-tot class. Toting E2, who was about a year old when we started, we set out on our gymnastics journey at Flyers.

That first year we were in a class with a lot of dedicated parents, a few boys and a group of girls who had all been at it at least six months longer than E1. They were a great group of role models for a pair of beginners.

At the same time, they often made me feel like what we were doing was a supreme waste of time and money, other than tiring out all three of us. Even I know the value of that for the mother of two toddlers, and it gave us somewhere to go. Since that was practically the only place I went every week, I didn't put up a fuss.

The class begins with running to warm up the body, followed by some floor stretches and jumps, then sessions on the mats, bars, and balance beam. Trying to convince a 2-year-old to follow the coach's directions and lead was the biggest struggle we frequently faced. Like the other duos, we ran together, did the floor exercises together, and then I walked the mats with her to help her with her rolls, handstands and jumps. When we moved to the bars, I did the not-too-heavy lifting to get a tiny girl up to a bar and help her with moves such as walking her hands across the bar, or pulling her feet up beside her hands. The balance beam was more lifting and help.

You can see where I wound up as tired as they did.

Much of the first few months felt very frustrating. Other than some good, cold weather exercise, I didn't see where it was getting us anywhere. Then E1 fell in love with the balance beam. I'm not sure how it happened or exactly when, but she went from walking with my arms loosely encircling her to doing it on her own. At the end of year "Gold Medal Day," which is essentially a recital, she walked the balance beam unassisted and when she fell on her second trip across, she practically earned a standing ovation by deciding to go back and start over.

It no longer felt quite so frustrating.

The second year she was one of the leaders, taking the place of those older children who had moved up. That didn't mean she stayed focused, or always remembered to stay in line for her turn, or could do the monkey walk, handstand or backward roll by herself, but she was beginning to get it. Instead of chasing her, I was chasing E2 who some nights made it her life's mission to see how much chalk she could get in, or how much candy she could find in the coach's office. At the same time, there were class members not much more into it than E2, so I didn't always feel too bad.

By the end of the year, E1 had mastered crossing the bar -- something I would not be able to do, and my support role was pretty well reduced to handstands and backwards rolls.

I guess at about that time I began wishing there was a class for adults. You think I'm joking, but I never mastered the backward roll in school. Never even came close. It was just one of those things I couldn't do that I accepted along with the list of things I wasn't allowed to do.

The "not allowed" list was pretty extensive. My dad took overprotection to a ridiculous level and still yells at children when they run. That was the first thing we weren't allowed to do. In the yard of all places, for crying out loud. Needless to say, bicycles were on that list until I was a teenager. I learned to ride a bike at 13. Roller skates were always on that list. I finally learned to skate a little in my 30s after finding a pair of in-line skates my size at Goodwill, but I'll never have the skill that I always wanted. And denied trees as a child, I climb a lot of trees now. If it weren't for dogs and walking, I'm pretty sure I would have been obese.

So yes, learning to do a backward roll and some of the simple moves E1 does with ease might help vanquish some of those "can't" ghosts that still linger. In an effort to perform my own exorcism, I do a lot of the moves with her when we're away from class, tumbling on the trampoline, or swinging from the bars on playgrounds. And I envy her the strength and confidence she already possesses at 4 that I'm not sure I ever had in my childhood.

This year we're back to square one, so to speak. E1 is in the preschool class and winging it on her own or with the help of coach and some of the older girls who help out. It's me and E2 making the rounds and I'm back to just surviving and often wanting to quit as I'm corralling my tot and toting E3 at the same time. The interest E2 took in her older sister's activities, however, means she can already do a lot of the moves. If she can stay in line and focused. I'm already dreading round 3 with the baby in a couple of years.

At the same time as the outings exhaust and frustrate me, I don't want to stop. I know how important it is to encourage activity and to help kids find something they enjoy, whether it is eventually gymnastics or another team sport, an organized class like karate or dance, or something they do on their own like skateboarding or yoga. Unlike when I was a child, when books and Saturday morning TV were about the only alternatives, kids today have 24/7 TV and video games, either of which can prove to be a fatal attraction if they don't enjoy some kind of exercise as well. Add to that the burden of school work in a few years, and the time it requires and takes from physical activity, compounded by working parents who are hard pressed to cook meals, monitor snacks and run kids to events, and it's no wonder our nation's children are so often overweight.

I don't know that I'm getting any gold medal contenders started with our weekly trips to gymnastics, but I do know that I'm encouraging them to be active. While it's harder than sitting in front of a couple of hours of Nickelodeon or even letting them wreck the playroom again, I know in the long run it's better for all of us.

In the years to come they'll have the strength, confidence, and yes, balance, that they learn in these early gymnastics classes to use in taking on whatever activity they choose to participate in. And I'll not only burn a few calories by helping out, but know I did something important as well.

And I might even learn to do a backwards roll -- if I don't hurt myself.

Who Is That in the Mirror?

Last night during Zumba class I saw my mom's reflection in the mirror, although I've never seen her in those clothes or dancing like that.

This morning when I went to wash my face, she was there again, looking at me over my bathroom sink.

Both times it was just a glimpse, but more and more as I get older I see my mom in me. It's not necessarily a bad thing, because neither of us look our age. But it is something that you can often look forward to as you get older. That moment of looking down and seeing your parent's hands (YIKES!) or hearing a recording and realizing your voice is much like theirs. You may even feel an expression on your face that you know you'd recognize, or find yourself reacting in a way you know they would.

That's not a bad thing if you love your parent, if they have aged well, or if you consider them a good role model. It's also not unavoidable though the path to avoiding it can be a tough one.

My mom doesn't look like my grandmother. Like many of her generation, deprived as a child, my grandmother wound up being a little heavy as she aged. That extra weight eventually meant she couldn't get around like she enjoyed and it contributed to diabetes. Even when I was a child my mom was making the conscious decision not to follow in her footsteps.

Like my grandma, she worked hard physically in the garden during the summer, but when she couldn't be working, she also did some exercising. I can remember her with no special equipment at all, long before Jane Fonda made it hip, exercising with what was probably a local television show or sometimes following the routine on her own. It was nowhere near the fitness regime I demand of myself today, but it was still something that stuck in my mind. I saw her doing it less as I got older, and I don't even know if it is something she kept doing or not. I'm sure, however, that is why in her 70s, she still works in the garden and yard, enjoys taking hikes now and then, and looks as good as she does.

It's a lesson that has stuck with me because I don't think there's ever been a time I wasn't active to some degree.

When I was younger it was hiking with dogs. Even in high school my dog and I walked on a daily basis, usually a couple of miles. With young children, well, that requires a certain amount of full body workout every day. When they were older, I had a gym membership for a while. Now I guess my fitness routine is the most dedicated it has ever been with dog walking five mornings a week, PiYo and Zumba once a week, and wrestling three girls every weekday.

But I still wish it were more and that I found time on a regular basis for the Bowflex, or yoga, or even Zumba in the living room. I want to be sure I'm doing enough to be a healthy older person and still be able to do what I enjoy doing.

In my PiYo class, I've sometimes complained to the instructor that I'm not as flexible as I wish I was, although if I watch my fellow students, I'm not doing that bad most of the time. I confessed to her, however, that I wish I'd realized 20 or 30 years ago how important it was to keep that flexibility and worked on it sooner. She, of course, tells me I'm doing great because that's just the way she is. But the fact of the matter is, the sooner we start the easier it is to keep going. Maintenance is a whole lot easier than repairs, on anything.

And that in itself is a message to parents, or grandparents. Nevermind what kind of future you envision for yourself. When you look at your children, what do you want for them? Because like it or not, whether we feel like we have the time for it or not, they are learning from what you do, not just what you say or what the world around them tells them.

If you want them to be healthy and confident -- and surely we all want that -- then they need to see that as they grow up. Oh, believe me, I know how tough it is when you're wrestling a child all day to also exercise. Good grief, isn't that enough? But we all know it's not. Even at their most tiring, the children in our lives don't always exercise what needs it. If they didn't I wouldn't feel that wonderful stretch or any soreness from a good workout.

I have to realize that one of the most important things I can do is take care of myself and feel good about myself and share that with the little girls in my life. That is important not just so I can be there for them, but so they will have another good role model as they grow up.

Taking care of myself means watching what I eat and making sure they see me make good choices most of the time as well as not beating myself up when the choices aren't so good, being active wither that means walking and playing with them or three of us attempting yoga poses (and darn if I don't envy E1 her flexibility and encourage her to keep it), and taking time for myself now and then (they can't go to PiYo/Zumba, but they know that's where I am and sometimes we look up YouTube videos and so a few minutes in the living room).

Feeling good about myself is a tougher challenge some days, particularly with children who are so brutally honest. But it is equally important. I need to learn to brag on myself to them. To be happy with where I am in life so that they can feel good about who and where they are, not only now, when they are little children and the world revolves around them, but in 10 years when they are grappling with being teenagers, or 20 years when adulthood is bearing down on them, or 30 years when they're parenting their own children, or even 50 years, when they are spending time with grandchildren of their own.

I wonder if that is a lesson I passed on to my daughter. Can she look at me and see a confident person that she wants to follow in some ways? Did the things I did when she was young help or hurt the person she became? Just like my physical fitness, I wish I had thought about taking care of those areas when I was younger as well.

Either way, worrying about the past is about as effective as worrying about the face we see in the mirror. We're pretty much stuck with it (plastic surgery aside) and we learn to live with it.

What we can change is the view looking forward and what it is the young people in our lives see when they look in the mirror. We can give them an image that they are happy to see, instead of one they want to run from, by learning to take care of and love who we are so we can pass those lessons on to them.