I've been trying all day to figure out a way to say this without it sounding mean or a little judgey, but I got nothing. So, I'll just say it: the parents at Saturday morning gymnastics are a collective hot mess. Each on their own are probably just fine, but put them together? HOT MESS.

Alexis and I wound up at the Saturday morning class because we'll be in Indianapolis by the time her usual class comes around this week, and I'm not about to skip out on that which costs a small fortune. So, a makeup class on Saturday made sense. Since me and mornings aren't really on speaking terms, Alexis and I rolled in at 9:03. I felt a little guilty being three minutes late, but getting showered, dressed, and ready for the day on a Saturday is just plain harder for me than doing the same on a Tuesday.

I am not alone.

Parents were still rolling in for that class at 9:30--after having already missed over half of the festivities.

Even more eye opening for me was the realization that those of us where were showered and fully dressed for the day were vastly outnumbered by those who had rolled out of bed and headed straight to the class. I can't even tell you how many parents had obviously skipped the shower, comb, etc. that morning and opted for the Natural Look. It was A LOT.

Then there was the way the Saturday Parents just sort of sat around. It was . . . weird. In our normal class the parents are forever alongside their kids, encouraging them, cheering them on, and basically doing the whole parent/child participation thing. The Saturday Parents were more into finding a place to sit and hide and hoping their kids didn't so much as glance at them.

For example, one of the things that we usually do in a class is to a parent/child flip thingy. I'm sure it has some sort of overly cute name, but I don't pay enough attention to know that that is. It involves the parent laying on the floor with his or her knees bent at a 90 degree angle. The kid sits on your feet, facing away from you, then you pick the kid up by straightening your legs out and raising them in the air. Halfway up, you grab the kid around the waist and flip him or her over your own head. Alexis happens to love whatever that thing is called, so I oblige and fully participate, despite the fact that I don't particularly like having my ass sticking up in the air while I look like an idiot. I figure that everybody else is doing it as well, and I probably don't look like the biggest idiot in the class. Except, of course, when in a room surrounded by Saturday Parents. Saturday Parents all sit around, refusing to do it, and telling their kid to go wait a turn and let the class instructor flip them over. Seriously, there was one dad and me doing it out of a room full of people.

I have all kinds of theories as to why it might be that the Saturday Parents are such a hot mess compared to the Weekday Evening Parents, but it doesn't really matter. After all, I just signed Alexis up for classes for next session, and we'll be popping in on Saturday mornings all the time. I too get to be an unshowered, crazy-haired, non-participating hot mess. I'm looking forward to it.

I might even arrange it so that Alexis and I show up in our matching pink elephant pajamas.