Ruby is a 1 year old now and, with age comes headache. And exercise. She discovered the stairs this week and, that new found revelation paired with her incessant need to irritate anyone and everyone leads to me having some seriously awesome toned legs. Up the stairs. Down the stairs. Up the stairs. Down the stairs.

People keep telling me how wonderful those baby and me exercise classes are, the ones where you use baby like a push up bar and hold them high over your head while silently mouthing to them, “You did this to my body and by God, you’re gonna fix it!” I like the idea of it, karma IS a bitch, but my little bundle-of-joy would take one look around and then own the room. Moms and babies alike would go home with burning buns, babies running in circles after Ruby has one of her “little talks” with them, concocting some sort of evil plan to take over the world, and moms running after them sobbing and exchanging words like, “I just don’t know what’s gotten into him! He’s never like this!” I know dear friend, I know.

So, unless chasing after an army of 3 children who consider climbing walls and moving furniture a competitive sport is some sort of new and twisted group exercise class, that’s just not in my cards this year. Ruby will take over the world soon enough, no need to introduce her to a room full of accomplices.