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With the exception of my eyelashes and bellybutton, every inch of my being ached. I felt as if I'd just climbed Mt. Everest, barefoot. My aches and pains were the consequences of a brain warp in which I thought I was still in my 20s. The catalyst of this phenomenon occurred as I watched my daughter, Madison, painstakingly maneuver through unbalanced cartwheels ending in clumsy thuds. I decided she was in desperate need of some instruction.

My husband watched the scene unfold while trimming roses. He shook his head and grinned with one of those "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into" smirks. I poised my body like a professional pigtailed gymnast and waited for my daughter's undivided attention. I tumbled through a stunning cartwheel, causing a "Cool, Mom, teach me!" to erupt from her lips. If I had any sense, I would have ended the exhibition after the first pointed toe. However, the folly of pride reared its ugly head as my four kids watched with bated breath. Pushing aside the wimpy cartwheels, I quickly moved on to round-offs. After each barefoot landing and arched-back-finish with hands thrown in the air, I wondered, When did the ground get so hard?

Following 12 demonstrations, coupled with pauses for mother-daughter coaching, we moved to wheelbarrow races. The younger siblings got in on the action and soon a burst of relay races exploded in our front yard. Maddy continued the cartwheel dance, while the baby sat bouncing on his behind and clapping as if he were seated in the front row of a three-ring circus.

Although the sun began to set, I was not relenting. My "Fun Mom" trophy was waiting for me in the banquet hall, and I was mulling over my acceptance speech. With my husband's "It's getting dark" comment, my bubble burst and reality seeped in. Dinner was hiding out in the refrigerator somewhere, and everyone decided at once they were starving. With the cheers still ringing in my ears, I gathered up the performers and headed indoors.

After dinner, baths and the kids tucked in bed, I groaned my way to the couch. Following ibuprofen and several slurps of water, I made a rapid determination that as a mom of four, pregnancy and age have left me acutely less agile. My executions resulted in a three-day recovery period to regain normalcy and to recover from equilibrium failure. However, all was not lost. Madison soon mastered cartwheels and even taught herself how to do the splits. No way was I coaching that one!

In time my kids moved on to roller-skating—doing loops from the driveway, down the sidewalk and up the walkway. As I stood watching from inside the front window, I thought, Did I ever tell them that I was a floor guard at Skate Junction for three years? "Honey, have you seen my skates?"

Linda Vujnov is a freelance writer and contributing author to Chicken Soup for the Mother of Preschooler's Soul. She shares her humor through speaking to MOPS groups in Orange County, California, where she lives with her husband and their four children. She won the 2006 MOPS Writing Contest for "the funniest adventure in mothering" category.

Copyright © 2006 by the author or Christianity Today International/MomSense magazine.Click here for reprint information on MomSense.

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