The Pool

Hmmm yes.  The pool. So just recently (as in four hours ago) I was blogging about all of the things I said I would never do, krazy glue my son to a beehive to make a point or whatever.  And of course one of these things is like I would NEVER leave my kids unattended at the pool. Or by the ocean.  Or in a shark's mouth. Obvs.


When you have ONE kid.  When you  have one kid, you basically can velcro that child to your fannypack and go about all your wonderful tra la la ings.  You can disco dance, stick junior on the strobe light, you can go jogging with little bunny boodle in a stroller.  Bike riding?  Slap that kid into the seat behind you and off you go!  Have a doctor's appointment or a job interview?   Basically one child can fold up into a convenient travelling roller suitcase to be showcased at any given time.

Oh hello, enter second child.  What a different ball game we are playing here!  Now, I do agree that it really is very dependent on how close your kids are in age/ gender and disposition, but I have always said with two children it's not a double situation its an exponential situation.  So if you have two in diapers its not oh boy now we've added another. Yay!  It's more like oh boy one poopy diaper is now MILLIONS OF POOPY DIAPERS ON SPRINGS CIRCLING AROUND ME and MILLIONS OF SCREAMING BABIES ARE PLAYING OVER AND OVER ON A TAPE OF SCREAMING BABIES.

All of a sudden your serene We have one child who serves us afternoon tea while we reread Oliver Twist becomes two screaming midget prizefighters who will not rest until blood is drawn.  And then imagine.   A third....

So now, of COURSE I would never let one of my only child's shoelaces stay untied, becomes now all of my children are tied together with shoelaces for the safety of the family.  And then yes, back now to the pool.

So yesterday I took all THREE of my kids to the pool.  The oldest two can swim up down and sideways, so they wear an orange band and require a "parent to be on the pool deck" which is akin to saying a parent must step out of the normally tempered human being climate into a misty cloud of baby nougat with a super slippery floor.

The youngest wears a mandatory swim diaper and some life saving device called a puggly wuglly  or no, puddle jumper.  Now my girl has Mama's swim genes so basically she can take this puddle jumper off and bury it in the deep end of the pool, cover it in sprinkles  then start a game of Scattegorries or a scavenger hunt where she lights a cig at the bottom of the pool and waits for everyone to catch up.

So then the lifeguards at the Y decide to flex their stuff.  I am standing at the end of the pool and speaking to my two older kids while they swim.

Embryo lifeguard:  Excuse me, do you have any children in the pool wearing a life jacket? And I am so happy cause NO I have three children: two are wearing goggles and an orange wristband and the youngest one is wearing a puddle jumper.  So take your diseased life jackets and go, but wait my husband says are puddle jumpers included?  And the terrified but lovely preteen is like um yeah. Duh.

Okay. Yes, she is mine. For now.

"So you have to, like, have to be IN the water with your child an arm's distance away."  Twirl finger around hair.

I look at Eleanor, who is in fact, an arm's distance away from  me.  But my feet are OUT of the water. She is wearing the unnecessary puddle jumper, surrounded by her brother and sister who are wearing Gold Olympic swim medals around their necks. I am standing next to her half merman of a father while six hundred and forty-and half lifeguards surround the one inch deep water, each holding a body-sized red american cross floating device that could save Hercules from getting swept up in a tornado.

Let me just step one inch to my left. Okay now I am in the water.  Twirl hair.