Guilty as charged

Ah, the guilt of a mother.

Today I had a wonderful idea. Beth had her gymnastics class this morning at the Y. Amy loves to go into the toddler child-watch for the duration of Beth's class, so I usually spend the hour-long session chasing Erin up and down the hallways, obsessively checking my watch to see how much longer until Beth will emerge.

But this morning I decided to have some time for myself. I decided to put Erin into the baby child-watch, so that I could run on the treadmill and lift some weights during Beth's class. Of course, Erin has never, ever been left with anyone besides her grandparents, but since the room is full of toys, I pretended to myself that she would happily enter this brave new world.

Things started out smoothly enough. Beth cheerily ran into her class, and I dutifully signed the clipboard to let the teachers know that I would be in the nautilus room. Next was Amy's turn, and she also skipped into her child-watch with a big smile. Then I headed down the hall to the baby room and showed Erin all the happy children playing in the windows. I signed her in, slapped a name tag on her back, and handed her to the woman in the doorway.

"We let them cry for 10 minutes, and then we come get you", she informed me.

Well, that's fine. My child isn't going to cry anyway, I thought.

Off I went to the gym, where I spent a happy 10 minutes running on the treadmill. But then I saw her. The child-watch lady, climbing the stairs and entering the gym. I looked down at my computerized screen, hoping that maybe if I didn't look at her she might go away. But then she appeared beside my treadmill, with the question, "You're Erin's mom, right?"

When I admitted that yes, I was in fact the mother of that little darling, she told me "she's pretty upset".

Pretty upset does not begin to describe Erin's state of mind when I returned to the baby room. I could hear her screams from all the way down the hall, and when I reached the room I could see three staff members, frantically trying to give her cheerios, toys, anything to quiet her down. She was sobbing so hard that she was hyperventilating, and when they saw me they practically ran over to the window with her.

I apologized and thanked them profusely. They handed the sobbing Erin into my arms, where she promptly put her head on my chest and stuck her fingers into her mouth. We returned to the gymnastics waiting room. Her sobs gradually turned into hiccups, and she eventually calmed down. She never left my arms, though, so I was spared the usual chasing-down-the-halls activity.

Believe it or not, even though I am feeling very guilty about putting poor Erin through that torture, I am debating trying this again tomorrow morning, when we return to the Y for Amy's gym class. I realize that those women are probably not paid a salary anywhere near high enough to listen to Erin's screams, but it sure was nice to have those 10 minutes on the treadmill.

Of course, if it doesn't work, I can still do some exercising. I probably burn more calories chasing Erin up and down the halls anyway.