Twist and Shout and Flush

If you thought exercising in front of the kids when they were little was a Stephen King movie waiting to happen, you'll find that working out in front of teenagers is like hanging your handwashables out to dry across the information superhighway. If there’s not a video of your behind crouched in a downward dog position on YouTube before you’re done with the stretches, these kids think they’re not doing their job.

At least when the children were six, they would make entertaining attempts to do the exercises with me. Today they take pictures with their cell phones and compose humorous captions before texting them to distant relatives and global news sites. And they’re not afraid to broadcast interesting body fat tidbits.

When the kids were little they said things like, “Who is that lady on the video?” (That’s Richard Simmons, Sweetie.)

Where did your belly button go? (It disappeared about the time I sent out the birth announcements.)

These days they say things like, “Is that a hula hoop or a belt?” Since I’m wedged into the thing like preteens in the front row of a Taylor Swift concert, I don’t have a clever answer ready. I’m more concerned with getting the plastic wedgie out from under my lung so I can breathe. Having a playground toy jammed through my ribcage like a pierced earring is not a good look for me. I know. I saw the "After" shots on the FAIL blog.

The last time I let my band of ruffians, er teenage citizens, in the house while I was doing my bellydance workout, I checked my FaceBook page later only to find out I’d been sponsored by Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig had ignored my friend request, and an anonymous poster left ten tips to a bikini-ready body written in a sarcastic font.

Then one day a host of fleshy cherubs in workout gear appeared before me on my 48 inch plasma screen. I thought it was The Biggest Loser, Angel Edition. “We saw you on You Tube and decided you needed some help. Seek out the promised land!” That’s the day I packed up my workout gear and headed to my own turf.

These days it’s kind of hard to do squats without flushing the toilet, or perform proper lunges without knocking the shower massage into nail-driver position, but I can exercise without the benefit of back seat drivers.

Now if I could just get the Tidy Bowl man to stop heckling me from the cheap seats.

(Join me for more laughs at MindOverMullis where the carseats are empty, the nest is full, and the kids have developed fear of flying.)


  1. I love the way you write, Amy. This was fun to read!

  2. JLC--Thanks! It's scary, but that's the way I think, too!

    Stace--I'm not sure if I need surgery or psychotherapy!

  3. Every time I read something you wrote, I have, at the very least, one big laugh out loud moment. That's saying a lot. My funny bone is buried deep under lots of layers of cream filled doughnuts.

  4. Amy, next time--please, please, please post a warning about drinking (tea) while reading your post. Now I have to go clean off my keyboard. Too funny!

  5. I live to make people spew! My work here is done. Thanks, ladies. (But now I have the strangest craving for cream filled doughnuts and tea.)

  6. Wonderful, Amy! Wish I would've thought of it.

    My answer to my snarky teens was, "You just wait 'til you are forty..."

    I have six years to go til my oldest has a teenager, then we'll see what her kids do to her. mwahahahah!

  7. Thanks, Jeanette. You did apply the mother's curse didn't you? "When you grow up I hope your children treat you just like you treated me." Works like a charm.

  8. My mother did that to me, only she used the word "worse". And it worked. I'm still formulating the wording of my own Mother's Curse for my boys.

  9. Carole,

    AND you've got racoons in the wall. Your mother was gooood.

  10. ::head desk::

    I should have known. By the time my kids have houses, they're gonna have elephants in the ceiling. Just you wait. I'm setting it all up now.

  11. Wait until your three year old toddles up to you, pats your stomach with both hands and announces: 'I see your butt!'

    Insert erupting guffaws from other room--husband--and you have your very own episode of: Married With Children.

  12. LOL! Click your heels together three times (I never could manage that part either) and chant, "There's no place like Home Alone."

  13. Whatever. You're one of the cleverest (and funniest) out there. And you know it! ;)

  14. You have a great sense of humor, Amy. Love it!


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