You want me to do what?

We have this awesome athletic club in my town.
We used to be members, that is, until we became parents and had other important things to buy. You know, like diapers, formula, wipes...all the things that suck your wallet dry.
One good thing about my husband and I, we're not above doing anything in order to get something in return.
One weekend a month for 4 hrs (2 hrs Fri/2 hrs Sat), Dave and I put the kids to bed, wait for the babysitter, and then head off to the health club to wipe down equipment, do a little vacuuming and clean some windows. In return we get paid (enough to pay the babysitter) and get a free family membership which includes this hot little number we'll make use of this summer:

Could we afford a membership? Yes.
But my question is, why would we pay over $100/mo when we can do it for 2 nights/month.
So, seeing I'm going to be hanging out with the kids at the water park this summer, NOW is the time to whip my body back into shape.
I'm pleased, very pleased with the scale.
The wiggle-not so much.
I decided to put the kids in the nursery for the first time yesterday and take a class. It was called bodystep.
Now, I've never taken a step class before, so I don't know if they are all the same steps each time. If they are new steps each time, then I am one UNcoordinated woman!
Step up with this foot-turn this way-knees up-3 more times! ha! fooled yah!!
And not only do you have to follow what her FEET do, they have ARM movements too!
So, here I am almost tripping over the freaking step, clapping out of order, and DEFINITELY not turning when I was supposed to!
During one water break, I introduced myself to the woman next to me.
"hey! I'm the new one who can't seem to figure my right foot from my left, let alone my hands too!!"
She made me feel much better by telling me that everyone in the room had a first day (or month, as she put it) and that I was really doing awesome.
Right.
After 45 minutes, it was time to put our steps away and get mats.
"this is going to be a KILLER!" she warns me.
All of a sudden, I hear my name being called over the loud speaker.
"Please come to the nursery"
I didn't get to find out what the killer was, lucky me.
Miles apparently wasn't too much of a fan of the nursery.
He wasn't crying when I got there, but as soon as he saw me, the drama began. Head flung back, eyes squished closed, but still letting the crocodile tears though.
Pushing away toy after toy, he looked like a football player determined to score a touchdown.
He latched onto my neck, head on my shoulder and I could barely pry him off to get his coat on.
I know I need to make this a routine so it's not a scary thing for him, so this morning I went again.
This time I made it though 40 minutes.
He apparently started crying just a few minutes before I walked in.
Again, another huge squeeze, and yes, some more heartbreaking REAL tears.
The good news is is that he DID play up until then.
I think I'll take tomorrow off, and we'll try again.
Come summer, I'm hoping to be one hot mama!