There is a commercial on television for an in-home exercise bike complete with your own personal computerized trainer who encourages you to keep going when you’re trying to die.   On one of these commercials, a young woman is just finishing up her workout as her virtual coach cheers her on to the finish line.  As she pedals those last few rotations, bubbles float toward her.  She turns, all sweaty and glowing with vigorous exercise, to see her adorable tot standing in the doorway blowing bubbles.  Her face breaks into a huge smile as she dismounts the bike and chases her giggling child through the house.

Okay, I just want to say, a scene like this would never happen in real life.  Here is a much more likely scenario, especially in my case:

I get up early thinking to get in my workout before the rest of the family wakes up.  Unfortunately I don’t have an entire room surrounded by glass offering a magnificent view in which to store the exercise bike, so I trip over the roomful of junk left out by the kids in order to get to my bike in the corner.  After unloading several items of clothing, toys, and food wrappers, I hop aboard.  I am pedaling along toward my quarter mile mark when my toddler, who isn’t so adorable, is standing in the doorway informing me he pooped in his pants.  I dismount, take care of the situation, and hop back on the bike, when he demands juice—now!  After pouring juice into a sippy cup and settling him in front of the one-eyed baby-sitter (yeah, guilty), I make another attempt.

“Honey?” I hear my husband calling.  “Where are you?”

“In here,” I gasp out.

We play “Marco Polo” for a few rounds until he locates me.  “Have you seen my blue dress shirt?  I can’t find it anywhere.”

“In the laundry room,” I wheeze.

“I looked in there but I didn’t see it.”

I dismount again, head to the laundry room, pluck his shirt from the hanging bar, and hand it to him.

“Do you have time to iron it for me?  It looks a little wrinkled.”

I give him the “stink eye” and head back to the bike.

“Mom!” yells the pre-teen.  “I forgot to tell you I told the teacher you’d make cupcakes for our class party today.”

I resist the urge to beat my head against the handle bars of the bike, as my coach crows, “You’re doing great!  Keep it up!”

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” says the toddler, who has returned to the room.

“Honey, what setting should I use on the iron?” Hubby calls.

“Mom,  you need to fill out all these papers.”  Pre-teen is now in the doorway waving a fistful of dead trees at me.  “They’re due today.”

“Honey?  Do I need to add water to the iron?”  Hubby has now joined the other two.

All three of them are standing there watching me, expectantly.  I haven’t even biked a half mile and my personal trainer is urging me not to give up.  Easy for him to say.  He’s probably single.  I turn him off and go take care of my family.

This is why I will never have personal exercise equipment in my house.  If I want an uninterrupted workup, I will turn off my cell phone and go to the gym.  They can’t get to me there!

May you have a peaceful and blessed Mother’s Day.  Even if you have to send the family to the movies to get that peace!