The other day we took a free preview class at Gymboree. We used fake ID to get Owen into the 6-10 month class because he is only five months, well five months and three days to be fair. But one of our mom/baby friends was going and the people at Gymboree said as long as Owen could reach for things we were okay.
We almost didn't make it. Fifteen minutes before class Owen was still sleeping and at this stage of the game I wouldn't wake Owen if Oprah was giving out free cars on the corner. . well, maybe. But at the last minute he woke up and after a quick compromise feed we ran off to Gymboree!!! We made it exactly on time and ran into our friends at the door.
When we walked, we were greeted by a cheery voice across the room that brightly said, "Oh good, you're here. I was worried you weren't coming! I was wondering where you where!!! " This was news to me as up to a ten minutes ago, I didn't even know that I was coming. Word must travel fast. in Gymboree land. When we went to sign the woman entered Owen's name wrong before correcting it. "Oh, rats," I said, "Now our plan to come back and take a free class under a false name won't work."
"Aw, you wouldn't want to do that, would you?" the woman said. "That would be like taking money from us! And we need our money." I am tempted to point out that the use of the word "we" here is a bit creepy and that if I actually wanted to do that, I probably wouldn't have warned her and while I may have been unemployed since November I hope I am never actually reduced to the point of moving around the city having Owen take free trials of Gymboree classes under pseudonyms. "Well," I say back, " I have been unemployed since November so I just might." And then I laugh to let her know that I'm not serious. And then she offers advice on finding a job. Okay, so aside from the use of "we" she is really, really nice.
I should have just stayed at the front desk chatting with A________ but our fearless class leader is still waving us over and jumping up and down with excitement so we move over to the mat where we join a few other baby/caregiver pairs. Our class leader is young, blond, and exceedingly cheerful. "Good morning boys and girls," she exclaims. "My name is Miss Betsy and welcome to Gymboree!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I am not sure if it is the use of the label 'Miss' or the effervescent tone of voice that makes me think of the Mickey Mouse Club if it took place at a Scientology seminar. "Are you ready to play?" she asks. "Gymbo the clown wants to say hello to everyone!" Okay, as an aside, I regularly talk to Owen in a tone of voice I thought would never come out of my mouth and use improper words such as "milks" in the context of "Does Owen want some milks?" or worse "milkies" but this voice is SO cheerful it makes me want to grab Gymbo from her and beat her over the head. But I think, she can't keep this up for an hour.
But she does.
To be fair to both Gymboree and Miss Betsy, the class itself was pretty good. There are tons of toys and things to play with, brightly colored materials, songs, movement, interaction but I just CAN'T get passed two things - the creepy cheer and the way that Gymbo (Jimbo?) pops up everywhere. There is Gymbo on a stick, three foot Gymbo, Gymbo on the wall. It is creepy, pervasive branding that really whispers, "Drink the Kool-Aid, Drink the Kool-Aid." I start to think, maybe it's just me when I turn to my friend who mouths, "I can't take it! Help!"
Ten minutes before the end, Owen and I slip into a quiet corner to nurse, partially because he seems to be hungry and partially because Gymbo on a stick is giving kisses to all the kids and I'm not sure I want Owen's first non-familial kiss to be a clown on a stick, especially as Miss Betsy just told everyone that Gymbo was over thirty years old.
I want to like Gymboree, I do but I don't. Maybe when Owen is a little bit older (and I don't just mean a month) and he can really get something out of the activities but I really think that I need just a slightly more cynical play class. And, as my cousin pointed out, I DO realize that what seems over the top for adults can be perfect for babies' development, something here was just too much. I have pretended I was a tree and a cobra in mommy and me yoga classes, I have stomped and swung in mommy and me movement classes but here I draw the line. It's hard because while for me, Miss Betsy just seemed like a Southern, failed musical theater major turned cult leader, I suspect she is really good at her job. She was enthusiastic and kind and could really carry a tune but in the end, Gymboree is not for me.
Since taking the class I have actually talked to several parents who had the same experience, and say their friends have told them the same thing which made me feel moderately less judgmental. I'll never say that I won't go back to Gymboree, after all some days alone get very, very long but I might try a lot of other places first. Also, at $179.00 a month for a weekly class AND a $50 enrollment fee (which they would have waived if I signed up on the spot of course) it's a little pricey for settling. For that, I could probably buy a few more things for my living room and recruit a few baby friends and have my own version. The only thing I would have to do is design my own doll. . What would I call it? Perhaps, "Heather-O!"
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