So here is the deal: I am going to attempt to write one blog post per day for the entire month of July. This could be difficult since it has been, ahem, a while since I last blogged, as you might have noticed.
Fortunately, NaBloPoMo provides monthly themes and daily writing prompts. This month’s theme, as you might have guessed, is “swim.” Not that I’ll make every post related aquatics, but I MIGHT…
Confession: I can’t swim.
This might seem weird when you consider that my family always had pools when I was growing up. Not the plastic, disposable kinds of pools but real, stuck-in-the-yard-under-snow pools. My mother enjoys the water as much as she enjoys tanning (read: alot). I dislike both of those activities equally.
Swimming has always meant 2 things to me: death by drowning, and swimmer’s ear. There is 36 years of history for you in one sentence. Now that I am “an adult,” there are a few other things that ruin the swimming experience for me: the cruelty of wearing contact lenses in the water, the fear of my kids drowning, and the constant thrumming of blood in my ears related to my blood pressure that is elevated due to other people’s children.
Confession: I hate other people’s children. Except yours. Yours are fine.
Now that it is summer, and I am off with the kids (this story is for another blogpost), and also because we recently moved into a nice little subdivision with a community pool, every day I am asked if we can “please go to the pool, pleeeeeeeezzzzeeeeee.” And since I still have some hope that I won’t pass on all my undesirable screwed-up traits to the kids, I have been trying to be very positive about the pool.
Sure, we can go to the pool, kids. Are your rooms clean? Have you done x,y,z (completely impossible tasks for 7 and 4 year-old children)? No? Awww, guess there is no pool today.
I have brought them to the pool a few times. It is a nice pool, save for the strangely strong-smelling restroom and the plethora of bugs in the kiddie pool. My oldest, the kid who has completed about 8 rounds of swim lessons over the last 5 years, can now swim underwater but as soon as he pops his head up above the waterline he sinks like a lead ball. He insists this is related to his goggles. The younger child, who has done 3 rounds of swim classes in her life (second child syndrome), is alternately petrified (“hold me! HOLD ME!”) and brazenly ignorant (“I don’t need these floaties anymore, because I am pretty sure that I can swim now…glub glub glub”). There is no lifeguard on duty here. Can you understand my anxiety level?
Don’t forget the thrilling terror of being exposed in a frigging swim suit to my neighbors and the parents of my children’s potential future friends. The old adage “suck it in” does nothing for my upper arms, folks. Nothing. I have tried.
Not to mention the armageddon-esque thunder storms that crop up randomly here in the South. I say “no, thank you” to death by lightning strike.
Anyways, today is the Friday of the long holiday weekend, and of course we should spend it at the pool. The kids have already asked, and have met my ridiculous demands. There are some questionable clouds in the sky, but the husband insists we will be fine. So I am off to spend the day
in hell at the pool.
Hold me. HOLD ME!