Class mom

An excerpt from Class Mom by Laurie Gelman

THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. Yup, all caps, bold and italicized. That’s how epic it is in my mind. Everyone is so clean and excited! Backpacks are fresh, sneakers are squeaky, and pencils are sharp. Take this same snapshot mid-November and it’s a whole different story.

We make our way down the well-worn hallways of Vivs’s and Laura’s old stomping ground, William H. Taft Elementary School. When we get to room 147, we find the prettiest and preppiest person I have ever seen standing at the classroom door greeting people. She has long blond hair, which is kept back by a pink headband. She is wearing light-pink-checkered pants and a white blouse with ruffles. I hope she owns a smock.

As we approach, she hits us with a dazzling smile and holds out her hands.

“Is this Max? Oh, my goodness, Max, I have been so excited to meet you! Is that a new shirt? Purple is my favorite color!”

Well, color me impressed. Miss Ward is a real charmer. She has obviously studied the pictures we all sent in at the end of the summer. Max hasn’t said a word, but wears the goofy smile of a man smitten. So does Ron when I look over at him.

“Hi, Miss Ward, so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“No, no!” Miss Ward interrupts me. “This is not about Max’s parents. It’s all about Max today. Come on in and find your name on your desk, sweetie.” She ushers Max into the room and he eagerly follows without a backward glance.

Ron and I look at each other. I shrug.

“It’s all about Max.”

As we head out of the school, Ron asks what I’m up to.

“I’m going to meet my new trainer.”

He looks at me skeptically.

“I know what you’re thinking, but after that debacle at your store I feel like I need to step up my workouts.”

“Or, just, you know, start them.” He smiles and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

Here’s the thing. Ron’s sporting goods store is one of the biggest in KC. A few months ago, they hosted a mini mud run to promote our governor’s “Get Fit” initiative. When he mentioned that he needed participants, I volunteered. That was my first mistake. I thought I was in shape, thanks to my twice-weekly visits to our neighborhood Curves, which I had joined shortly after Max was born. So when I got to Ron’s store that day and saw the course setup I was, like, “No problemo.” That was my second mistake.

Let’s just say that the upper-body strength you get from hauling a toddler around for a few years doesn’t exactly prep you to climb a rope or swing from monkey bars or even drop to your belly and crawl through mud, although that was the easiest part.

It was weeks before I could show my face down at the store again. I mean, it’s not great when the wife of the owner breaks down and cries because she can’t get over the wall. Plus, I was sore for days in areas I didn’t know existed.

“Who’d you get to train you?” Ron asks when I don’t acknowledge his dig. I can tell he is annoyed that I hadn’t consulted him on the decision.

“Someone my mother recommended. He comes to your home and works you out. I figured I’d finally start using Ron’s Gym and Tan.” That’s my nickname for the home gym Ron has set up in our basement.

Ron gives a fake gasp. “You mean you’re going to give up Curves?” He’s never been a fan. Ron’s kind of a gym snob.

“See you later.” I give him a sly smile and head to my minivan. “Hot new trainer’s awaiting.”

Ron frowns. “Hot? You didn’t say he was hot.”

I laugh as I open my car door. I actually have no idea what he looks like. But with a name like Garth, I have high hopes.