Awkward Mom vs. The Exercise Bike

So, pre-Alien-Invasion (because it sounds cooler than Covid-19, that's why), I was a member of the Y. Three mornings a week, after I dropped the older children off at school, I would drive to the Y, leave Super Toddler with the lovely ladies in the Child-Watch, head to the locker room, chat with the Grandmas who were headed to the water aerobics class, change into my shorts and an ancient Obama for Senate T-shirt, and exercise for an hour on an exercise bike while scrolling through Instagram and wondering why everyone loves white kitchens with open shelving and reclaimed wood so much. I think they might have less children than I do. Occasionally, I would change into a swimsuit (one no where near as risque as the water aerobics Grandmas, but they are soaked in confidence, give me time to get there), and I would swim laps in the pool and delight in my own buoyancy and the fact that no one was asking me why-questions for a blissful 45 minutes. Ah, simpler times. 

Now, I use Awkward Dad's exercise bike in my basement while children shout down the stairs that someone ate the last Nutty-Buddy and he or she is now going to die. Thanks a lot, Aliens. 

You shouldn't feel too sorry for me. At least this is Awkward Dad's new exercise bike. His old one was a purchase from shortly after our wedding and the seat was stuck at his height and the cover was gone. Therefore, to use it, I would perch on a sweat-soaked foam lump, vaguely in the shape of a seat, well above the ground, my toes straining to reach the pedals, while things below me creaked, that definitely should not have been creaking. And not just my joints. 

Thankfully, this one adjusts to my height.

And doesn't even seem bothered by the random pool-noodle lightsaber some Sith left behind. 

It isn't the blissfully alone experience of the Y, but I am trying to be positive about it. In fact, there are 2 benefits to exercising at home in my basement:

1. I don't have to put on a shirt. 

2. I have a nice view. 

Obviously, one needs to overlook a few things on the way to the view, 

but details...

So, every morning, I put on a sports bra and some awful holey leggings, put on a Hard-Rock-Work-Out playlist in an effort to drown out kid-noise, look out at my beautiful backyard, and try not to die. I have been fairly successful so far, but after today, that might change. 

OK, so picture it, I am biking along, huffing and puffing along to Thunderstuck. The kids are all asleep, thanks to a midnight Animal Crossing session, that Should shows up to shame me about. I chase her away, along with Super Cat, who decides he wants to sit on the handlebars. Things are cool for a minute or two, until the music changes to that prophetic wonder Alice Cooper. And you totally know what song it is...10 minutes into this workout and Anxiety and Panic show up to question me about what my fall school plan is; home-school or sending them back? Their current school hasn't expressed a remote option, and suddenly Should is back with some thoughts about that. Super Cat jumps on my back about the same time a super child appears on the top of the steps, in tears and talking about vomit. I blink back some sweat or tears, I can't tell, and look up into my sunny backyard to settle myself, where I lock eyes with a man who is literally 2 feet from my basement door. (Turns out the neighbors' roofers had a box blow off the roof and land in our backyard.) He waves at me, and suddenly, the only benefits to working out in the basement become decidedly not. 

I avoid screaming and somehow wave back, before sprinting up the stairs (probably getting more exercise than the entire week of bike riding), scooping up the crying child, and exploding into the kitchen to find the rumored vomit. Thanks a lot, Aliens. 

Hey, you guys remember when the Spray Park was Awkward Mom's biggest nemesis? 

Ah, simpler times.