Every Tuesday while Maggie is in preschool I go to the "mommy gym". The gym has excellent child care, which is great because it means that Catie doesn't have to wait in the car.
I'm usually on the elliptical machine by no later than 9:15am, perfect time to catch up with my old friend Oprah. All the machines have these little TVs attached to them, and I've figured out how to set the closed caption on them so that I can listen to my music and still follow the story on that day's very special episode of Oprah. I like this, it works out nicely. I'm betting though, that the people next to me don't like it so much, because I am the ONLY one in the gym that cries while working out. Blubbering and weeping, Oprah gets me every single time.
Take today for example. Oprah is telling the story of a menopausal mother that decided to be a surrogate for her daughter and son-in-law after they had struggled for years to conceive. Oprah, of course, had all three plus the baby on the show. I was in tears in about two minutes flat. It made me think of my girls, and how I would do anything for them and what an amazing gift that family had been given. I'm getting choked up just thinking about it.
So hear I am, every Tuesday at about 9:30am, crying buckets on the elliptical machine. Oprah really has made her "final season" a doosy.
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