The Pool

Today I told the kids we could go to the pool. After feeding them, searching the house for the lost swimsuit bottoms, changing Ellie's poopy diaper and then giving her a bath because it was THAT bad, slathering them with sunscreen, packing snacks and sippie cups, and digging through Annie's old clothes bins for the sunhat I needed for Ellie (which she then subsequently would not keep on her head), we were ready to go. It took only an hour and a half from the time we said we would go to the time that we actually went. Ellie was sleepy and needed a nap by the time we got there, but I realize that if I gave her every nap at home, we would truly never leave home.

The kids have had swim lessons on and off through the years, but we haven't really pushed the swimming agenda. To ensure their safety, I prefer instead to stand one foot away from them and shout "Not past this line!" "Hold onto my hand!". I have thought this method the appropriate next step from last summer, when I insisted that they hold onto my swimsuit bottoms even at the peril of giving unsuspecting 5-year olds with diving masks an eyeful. I'm afraid I have imparted my worrywart ways on them. They wouldn't dare put their heads underwater, and when they get splashed in the face they immediately demand a towel. So as I was in the water today clinging onto Ellie and shouting directions at the other two, the kids saw their friend Sarah. Ellie suddenly grabbed my glasses and threw them in the water. They sank. Sarah, who is four, dived to the bottom, opened her eyes, retrieved the glasses and swam to the top, triumphant and proud. I realized at that moment that my kids were in danger of becoming namby pambies for life.

The kids soon found their school friends. I faded into the background as their faces brightened and their feet quickened. I stood at the side of the pool with the other moms watching them get splashed and not ask for a towel immediately afterward. At the rest period I decided to go retrieve their goggles from the car to see if they'd go underwater. I left them in the charge of my friend while I ran out. When I returned, John was nowhere to be found. A 5-minute panic ensued, with all the school moms looking in the sandbox, the kiddie pool, and scanning the water for Johnny. We finally found him parked on the potty, suit around the ankles, singing.