Blast From the Past/A New Chapter...

Did I ever tell you that I used to be a gymnast? [sarcasm to the nth degree since I'm sure I've already mentioned it about a gajillion times]. But in case you somehow missed the memo, here's the short version: a rather significant portion of my formative childhood years--roughly ages six to 14--revolved night and day around gymnastics. Not just fun tumbling gymnastics. Competitive 20-hours-of-training-a-week and five-hour-meets-every-weekend and travel-across-the-country gymnastics. For years I did forward rolls down the hallway and walked upside-down on my hands up the stairs instead of staying on my feet like a normal human being.

I eventually exited that stage of my life without much fanfare, moved on to springboard diving which offered a slightly softer landing, and looked back on the gymnastics memories fondly without any intention of revisiting them in the future save in front of my TV every four years during the Olympics. This happy avoidance plan included keeping my kids exceedingly ingnorant of the sport and its lures.  

Until a few weeks ago, when I caught my daughter doing this:

Not my fault, people. 

Apparently it's just in her blood...

***LET THE RECORDS SHOW THAT I HAD NO HAND IN THIS AND DID NOT ENCOURAGE IT WHATSOEVER*** 

Except for giving in and letting them watch a few YouTube gymnastics videos when they begged and pleaded. (Of course as soon as they saw the videos they wanted to do everything they saw). Anyway, I honestly don't know where she learned the terms "cartwheel" and "forward roll" and "handstand" unless it was my subconscious doing, but all I know is that she has been begging me with puppy dog eyes for weeks now to enroll her in a gymnastics class, and asking over and over again, "When can I start, Mommy? Do I have to wait till I'm five and a half?!" 

(We tried soccer! We really did)!

Her pleas softened my heart, of course, to the point where I let her do some stuff outside, then in the family room, then I found myself giving her a few pointers (because safety first!). Then before you know it I was helping her "present" to the pretend judges and point her toes and keep her head neutral and push through her shoulders and all of a sudden I realized I was coaching her and actually enjoying it. Shudder.

Really though. I can't
argue with a kid who's
already got such
amazing form! And
those puppy dog eyes...

No less than a week later, when looking for the right type of gym where she could try an introductory class (because believe me, there is a right and wrong kind of gym when it comes to your future gymnast's quality of life), a coaching job literally fell into my lap. No kidding. Wednesday I was looking for a gym. By Friday I was meeting with the owner to discuss their rapid program growth and demand for more coaches, and saying I'd definitly consider it (but really I was already hooked from the second I stepped onto the mats again and breathed in deeply the smell of chalk...). Exactly one week later I was coaching my first class. 

Off to my first day of work!

Change of heart much? 

Obviously (well obvs to everyone except me, maybe), I loved every single second of it, and I'm impatiently waiting for the next class and the next and the next. I'm also probably way more excited than I should be for the kids to get started in their very own classes and officially become 'gym kids!' 

If you need me, I'll be at the gym (the REAL gym) practicing my back tuck coaching my kidlings and trying to wipe the enormous grin off of my face!