Gymnasty-ics

So much for the Gavinator becoming the next Mitch Gaylord and starring in American Anthem II and giving me and his father all the revenue from his Wheaties ad campaign.

I hate to say it but I don’t think gymnastics is working out.

For the past couple of months or so, gymnastics has been more temper tantrums and chasing Gavin across the gym than front flips and handstands. It sucks because Gavin LOVES gymnastics and does have natural talent but he is bored, bored, bored. What started as a class with one on one instruction has now become a class of 7 with most of the children being in the 18 month age range with not one but TWO parents getting in the way assisting.

I don’t know what happened around the beginning of December but we had a large influx of new students. This did not suit Gavin for numerous reasons with the main ones being:

1. The new students took away all the attention of his beloved Miss Erica

2. We pretty much had to go back to the beginning and repeat skills over and over that he had mastered and grown tired of months ago.

3. He no longer has free reign of the equipment. For months Gavin could jump on the trampoline when he wanted to or walk across the beam whenever it suited him. Since it was a class of him and sometimes, one other girl, we could go out on the floor or jump off the horse or do whatever. He never had to wait his turn. It was much more active.

4. The new kids are itty bitty and they take forever. Never mind the fact we’re are repeating the same skills and circuits over and over again so the newbies can catch up, the newbies are half Gavin’s size and he has no patience for them. None. I imagine it is like a roomful of his sister and all he wants to do is clothes line them and spit on them.

This new arrangement does not work well for me because Gavin is upset throughout the whole class and begging to do the things he used to be allowed to do and I’m given the task of trying to keep him and line and not send one of the newbies to the emergency room while I’m keeping Grace happy. Remember when Gavin’s teacher told me it was fine if I brought Grace even though it was parent taught because she would be there to help? Yeah right. She doesn’t even acknowledge Gavin any more. She is too busy helping all the itty bitties even though they have two parents out there.

And don’t even get me started on the parents. Between threatening to spank their 18 month old for not stretching properly and giving me the big fat eyeroll when I drag a screaming Gavin off the trampoline because six months into gymnastics he has to learn to wait his turn, I’m definitely not feeling any love for them. The only mom I kind of sort of bonded with started her daughter in a new class when our class got so crowded.

Last night it all came to head. I was tired of spending an hour every Monday wrestling Gavin to the ground while he screams and cries while I stuff Grace full of goldfish to keep her happy. So twenty minutes into the class I picked Gavin up and carried his writhing and screaming body- while pushing Grace in the stroller with my hips- out of gymnastics. The gym was packed because they are preparing for a meet and everyone stopped and stared and not a single person helped me. Not even when I struggled to open the door while Gavin started hitting me in the face and Grace started shrieking because she dropped her Mickey Mouse (have I mentioned that Grace is obsessed with Mickey Mouse? She is. She sucks his little round nose. I imagine she’ll wean off of me onto Mickey).

I finally got Gavin in the car and he was sobbing and screaming for me to let him go back into gymnastics. He promised he would listen. He promised he would do the class. He promised he would stop crying. I wanted to take him back in and give him another chance but I have threatened over and over again that if he spent another class screaming and crying then we were going home so we were going home.

He sobbed and sobbed the whole way home and begged me to turn the car around. Finally he wailed “Mama! Class is my best friend. It’s my best friend, mama. I love class. I love gymnastics. I want Miss Erica. Gymnastics is my best friend. My best friend, mama.”

So, of course, I did what any other mature mother of two would do and started to cry, as well. I just hate that he is so miserable doing something he loves because of how the dynamics of the class has changed. I know we can find something else he loves and this is just the beginning of the joys of finding out what fits for your child through various ages and stages but I hate to make the decision for him that it is time to quit.

I hate quitting.

Note to self: Do not impose own neuroses on children.