Those who know me know that Sunday mornings are sacred. No, it is not because we go to church. It is because I go to Zumba. “So what?”, you may ask. Let me repeat- I go to Zumba. I, and not my baby and I. I, and not my husband, baby and I.
I. Alone. Go to Zumba.
My Sunday morning Zumba class has been important to me since long before I had my baby, but it only reached life-preserving status 6 weeks after I delivered her. I remember the feeling when I went back into my class, feeling like I was climbing out of a dark tunnel into the light (or out of a snow-filled Boston into the Spring).
Zumba is one way that I ensure I get at least some physical fitness in my week. Working full-time, raising a toddler, and trying to keep my home life somewhat together, that can be hard to do otherwise. But, my Zumba class is more than that. When I go to class, I see the same women every week. We are not close buddies, but we have an interest in each other’s lives. I ask Danielle how her daughter is liking college, she asks me how the baby is. Samantha notices when I’m not there.
During Zumba, I’m not a mom. I am mastering dance moves. I am moving and twisting and shaking, I am a Latin dance superstar. Okay, not really. But, my goodness, it feels good. During that hour, I am not focused on poopy diapers or what my baby will have for dinner or when the house is going to get vacuumed. I am focusing on nailing that Salsa.
And, while I am having my time, my husband and baby are having even more valuable time. They are having Daddy-Daughter time. When the weather is nice, they go for a walk, or they’re in a music class. The people at the local coffee shop know him by name and have watched my daughter grow. As she gets older, she and he will continue this tradition. The form it takes may change, but, no matter what, she will know that her Daddy sets aside a special part of his week just for her.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Sometimes a Zumba class is just a Zumba class. And sometimes it is so much more.
I think everyone should have some ‘Zumba class’ of their own- whether it be a book club, an art class, or rock climbing. New moms, in particular, need an outlet to express themselves as someone other than mom. Other caregivers need time to foster their individual connections with the child, away from mom.
What is your ‘Zumba class’? How do you make it happen?
