Twinkle: 10 Things I Hate About My Gym

When I moved back to town I was given a membership to My Gym, and I assumed that the people there would love me as much as everyone at Bubbles Academy did. I was truly at the top of the mothers' popularity food chain there; everyone loved my charming Southern accent and well-dressed baby. My Gym proved to be a more challenging setting, probably because of the hostile suburban undertones of it all. Here are 10 things I hate about it:

1. Circle Time. Have you ever tried to make a toddler sit in a circle and be still? I might as well bring my cat to class and try to hold him in my lap, tapping his paws on his head, shoulders, tummy, and knees, at the appropriate time during the song. I'm sure he would love it, and his struggles to escape couldn't be any more upsetting to the other children than Twinklette's loud, screeching protests. She seems to be the only one who doesn't enjoy circle time, probably because I encourage her to be a free spirit. Those other little clones have clearly been brainwashed by the teacher, Mr. Bill.

2. The Anonymity. During circle time, each mother has to go around and say her child's name (because the children are too young to do it, mind you). The mothers actually go around in the circle and say their children's names, but not their own. It is wrong on so many levels; it actually makes me want to burn my bra right there next to the balance beam.

3. Mr. Bill's Voice. Mr. Bill is this large, brutish man whose shirt says, "Got Kids?" Well, obviously, I do, Mr. Bill. I'm certainly not here at My Gym because I enjoy shooting hoops in the 3-foot-tall Little Tykes basketball goal. Mr. Bill greets all the little girls with a baby-ish, sing-songy, "Hiiiiiii, Twink-lettttttttte," and greets each boy with a, "NOAH--my ma-an! How's it hangin' bro? WAZZUP?!?!?" Every time some kid completes even the most remedial task (Olivia did some lame baby push-up with the help of assistant Miss Katie), Mr. Bill screams, "Ta-DAH!!!!" The worst part about Mr. Bill is that there's this thin veneer of enthusiasm barely masking a raw, boiling hatred within. Outside he's all smiles and "Ta-DAH!" but I suspect he's one whining kid away from hanging himself on the donut swing.

4. The Feat of the Week. I don't know what this is really called, but they always have some random trick to teach the children like they're a bunch of trained orangutans. The worst part is that Twinklette never wants any part of the feat, but I feel like I should encourage her since we're already on Mr. Bill's sh*t list for not sitting in the circle.

5. Vapid Conversation. The standard mommy pick-up line is, "How old?" It's a good opener, but when followed up with digging questions about developmental milestones, it's a bit exhausting. There is never any mom-to-mom conversation about any subject other than children; Mr. Bill likes to keep us all in a state of blissful isolation. Conversations with potential are immediately snuffed out by Mr. Bill yelling "Ta-DAH!" and asking if our kids have tried the bouncers yet this week. It might be a shame that I haven't really gotten to know these moms, if they seemed the sort of people worth getting to know. Then again, I didn't introduce myself in circle time either.

6. The Music. I find that there's a lot of bad children's music out there, and there's some that isn't so bad. Twinklette has some kids' cds...there's Barenaked Ladies' Snacktime, a witty and musically-interesting collection of songs from the beloved group, most of whom are now fathers, there's Let's Sing and Dance in French, a charming compilation of French children's songs set to complex rhythms and very low-key jazz beats. She also enjoys the Indigo Girls, Bluegrass, and classic R&B, and I object to the idea that children should endure bad music just because they're children...and there's a lot of bad adult music, too. The exclusive soundtrack of the My Gym experience is the soft rock hits of the '80s, '90s, and today. The fact that it's not children's music seems to scream, "Look--you're still cool! You can play with your baby while you listen to a continuous loop of Celine Dion, Phil Collins, and Mariah Carey! Oh, and you look like a total MILF driving that Dodge minivan, too." The only way the soundtrack of My Gym could be worse is if Mr. Bill sings along, which he often does.

7. Madison. All God's children come to My Gym, but everyone knows that some of God's children are cuter than others. Madison comes with her grandmother, whose tight-cropped permed hair may or may not be a wig, and Madison's stringy mop of hair is not much better. She is one of those insipid, washed-out looking kids who is just screaming for a makeover. A bow and a brightly-colored tee would do wonders for Madison.

8. The "Games." Here's a newsflash for Mr. Bill: when you take a toddler, give her a task (kick a tetherball!), and then cheer for her when she does it, she's going to want to do it again and again. When you do it with 10 toddlers, they're all going to want to do it. At the same time. They do not understand the concept of taking turns, and trying to turn it into a "game" is pointless because kids this small don't get the concept of games and are too little to have empathy or understand taking turns. Instead, I'm physically restraining Twinklette who wants to push past all the other toddlers who are trying to take their turns at the tetherball, and all across the room there are tears and wails because everyone in the room wants to kick that tetherball. You would think that a child development expert like Mr. Bill would recognize this and not put everyone through it each week.

9. "Separation Time." At one point during class (yes, this class lasts a long *ss time), all the children go into the middle of the circle to play while the moms sit on the sidelines and watch them. And the moms aren't supposed to cross the threshold of that circle, because it's "separation time," which is supposed to foster independence. Well, Twinklette has never met a circle that she wanted to stay in, so during "separation time" she either comes up to me and wants to snuggle, or else she disappears into the large jungle gym in back of the room and I don't know whether to go after her or not.

10. The Clean-Up Song. This isn't an official part of My Gym, but after separation time everyone has to help clean up the toys. Apparently there's some Raffi song about cleaning up that certain moms like to sing while toys are being put away. It never fails that when everyone is cleaning up, some mom will break into a rousing chorus of "Clean up, clean up! Everybody everywhere! Clean up, clean up! Everybody do your share!" Never mind the song's socialist overtones; my main objection is to the idea that a nameless adult woman feels the need to break into song to entertain a child who's probably overstimulated to begin with.

I wish that just one of these moms would break out and go get a mimosa with me after class, just so I could make fun of it all with someone who's shared the experience.