Pre-Gianna, I used to be a Pilates freak. Starting in high school, my sister and I read Joseph Pilates original books, and practiced hard to breath and stand properly. It helped later when I, for one whole summer, boxed with a former Golden Gloves contender. It was an entire year before the movie Girlfight came out, and the moment I saw the previews for that movie, I knew I could never box again. I still tried to maintain a strict conditioning routine, to keep up my fighting form. Because I knew that... it'd be tragic...if those evil robots win...
Where'd I go? At any rate, fast forward to giving birth via evisceration, and my core is just not the same. I tried doing "Mommy Infant Yoga" when Gianna was a baby, but it was a good way to either 1) irritate a baby who just wanted to nurse, or 2) find myself covered in regurgitated milk. So, we tabled Pilates for a bit.
Now that summer is coming, and I'm contemplating a future pregnancy, I decided that it's time to rip up the abs once more. A toddler can handle ten minute spurts of Pilates at a time, right?
I popped the instructional DVD in, pulled on the yoga pants, and got right down to it. Gianna observed this casually, eating a fistful of cheddar bunnies. As soon as I laid back and pulled in my core, she was on me. "Mama!" she crowed, drizzling partially-chewed cheddar bunnies on my cheek and neck. I paused the DVD, cleaned myself off, and resumed the tape. Lola grunted and stared.
In the middle of the "Hundred," I was body-slammed again- this time, she landed belly-first on my face. I rolled her off, and she screeched. I explained to her that I was exercising, and she could play nearby. She, as 20 month olds do, decided to clothesline me back to the ground. Lola walked over and sniffed, trying to decide if I was in peril.
Three weeks later, I can actually get through one, 10-minute workout with minimal interference. In fact, Gianna gleefully yells, "Plah-tees!" and earnestly touches her toes and flips her legs around. She does this exactly three millimeters away from me, though, and likes to sit directly underneath me to point out all of my 2,000 body parts while I'm trying to ronde de jambe.
Lola, in the meantime, aspires to be a girl boxer. Poser.