Trying to get back in the exercise groove is a pain. I hurt in places I�ve forgotten I have. Forget Day-Hay�s massages and the relaxation room. She�s missed her calling. She�s a dance drill sergeant.

I can do her kicks, I can do her shoulder rolls, and I can even do that funky thing with the hips (although, unlike Day-Hay, I can�t seem to do all of them at the same time.) The killer, though, is what she can do in the abdominal department. I never had abs like hers even before children. I�ll certainly never have abs like hers now. But she doesn�t want to hear excuses�at least not until I�ve tried. Can you sprain your stomach muscles?

For my age, I�m pretty flexible. I was even more flexible when I was younger but I still can bend over and put my hands flat on the floor. I can do a credible lunge. I can almost do a split on the right side. But Day-Hay says, �Do this� and promptly straddles her legs out and leans forward, flat as a pancake. That child is disgusting.

Then comes the part I really need: the part where she coaches me through the dance steps I didn�t quite get in class. I have to endure the analysis. �Well,� she�ll say. �I see what�s wrong. Your shoulders are rolling faster than you are circling your hips.� It doesn�t take a smart cookie like Day-Hay though to know what�s wrong. What�s wrong is that my 45 year old body just is not meant to move like a belly dancer with attitude. Day-Hay, of course, would dispute my description. If I did it correctly, it wouldn�t come off as a belly dancer with attitude. It would be smooooooth.

Then comes the part I love. That�s the part where she lets me sit and listen to her favorite part of the CD. It�s not much exercise�except for my ears�but I can do it competently. I can do it smoothly. I can do it without stress. But it�s over all too soon.

And then it�s back to �Attention! Mothers up!� I�d hate that child if I hadn�t asked for her help and didn�t love her so much.

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