That Time I Accidentally Became a Zumba Instructor

I don’t know how this all happened so fast. The day after my birthday, I attended a Zumba class at my gym, as I have done on and off for a few years now (I checked; I first went in 2011). When class was over, the instructor commented that I really knew her routines, and I confessed that I had been considering becoming an instructor at some point in the future. She said that I should.

I made a post relating this story on Facebook. Apparently, that was a mistake.

Recently, I have been working with two women who run a women’s wellness center. I shot some videos for their website and attended Red Tent circles and other events there. Well, Carolyn from the center commented on my post and mentioned that they would love to have a Zumba instructor.

At first I kind of thought, “Haha, yeah, right. I have a toddler right now; the timing is not good.” And then, I kept thinking about it, and I realized that it was a bit like getting a job offer out of nowhere. And as I’m currently a stay-at-home-mom who hasn’t decided how she would like to re-enter the workforce, it became more appealing. So, I started talking to other instructors and getting information. It’s not technically hard to become a Zumba instructor. You need to sign up for and attend a one day workshop. Then, depending on where you live and where you’ll be working, you need to get insurance in case someone is injured in your class. And … that’s about it.

So, the list of reasons in my cons column was rapidly diminishing. Why not just go for it then? How many instructors come out of the workshop with a guaranteed place to work? No, seriously, how many? I have no idea. But it seems like a pretty good start.

I went ahead and signed up, since there was a training session close by the following month. “What?! Why does it have to be so soon?!” Ahem. And then when I mentioned it another business owner friend of mine … she asked me to teach there too.

…what happened to my life?! One minute I’m a SAHM, and the next I’m a Zumba instructor with two job offers?! How did this happen? I mean, I will still be a SAHM. It’s not like that’s going away. I would say that life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans, but I hadn’t even gotten to that step yet! There really weren’t any solid plans! Maybe life is just kicking me in the butt? That could be. Sounds like my life.



The Funniest Museum Visit Ever

What is the meaning of life? Wow, that’s a super deep question for a first blog post, isn’t it? Everyone has a different answer, of course. Mine is that life is made of stories — yours, your family’s, your friends’. And the best we can do in this life is collect awesome stories and share them. I’m only 36. Maybe I will change my mind later on down the road. But the best times in my life have always consisted of either living a great story or sharing one. So, that’s what I plan to do with this blog, along with peppering in other random observations about life, parenthood, and whatever else may strike my fancy. 

So, with that in mind, I would like to begin by sharing one of my favorite stories: the funniest thing that has ever happened to me. This story occurred while I was at the end of my freshman year in high school. As a part of the Latin club (super cool, right?), I joined the rest of the large group on a field trip to Boston. There were so many of us, in fact, that the students were broken into smaller groups to travel to different destinations within the city. I chose to join the group going to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. We had a lovely visit. I mean, I’m kidding. I can barely remember anything we saw, because what happened afterwards was so much more memorable. 

As the museum was preparing to close, the thirty or so of us students gathered with the chaperones to discuss what to do for dinner. Apparently, we were taking a bit too long, because we were shooed along by museum staff. We made out way out into the gorgeous sunshine and reclined on the lawn while the adults discussed what to do. I heard someone suggest ordering pizza and snickered to myself. Yeah, right. 

Twenty or so minutes later, a pizza delivery car pulled up the driveway of the museum and stopped. My jaw dropped open. “Oh my God, we did it,” I murmured. We got pizza delivered to the lawn of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. One of the parents had thoughtfully gone to a nearby store to get some sodas, and we all eagerly dug in. A security guard by the museum entrance glared at us as we gorged ourselves, laughing about how ridiculous and clever it all was. 

We reclined once again in the sun after the pizza had been devoured. I was sitting with my friends Evan and Rebecca. Suddenly, we heard a strange hissing sound coming from the ground. Evan looked down at his can of soda, perched on top of a convenient cup holder. In silent horror, he lifted the can up to reveal — a sprinkler. Frantically, Evan slammed both his hands over the ominous black sprinkler. Rebecca and I gasped as we saw water begin to seep between his fingers. We grabbed our things and ran as sprinklers exploded on all around us in gigantic arcs. 

We made it to the safety of the driveway without getting completely soaked. One of the chaperones was not so lucky, as she had to go back and pick up things forgetful students had left behind (ummm … like my retainer? Oops). And then we just all stood there, panting and looking at each other as if to say, “Are we in a movie? Did that just really happen?” 

Suddenly, there was laughter from behind us. We turned and saw that the museum guard was killing himself laughing.

And that’s the funniest thing that has ever happened to me. 

We were excited by our ridiculous adventure; we couldn’t wait to tell our fellow Latin club members! However, in typical teenager fashion, they were completely unimpressed. Maybe that’s part of the reason this story is one of my favorites to tell!