Chronicles of Chaos

June 22, 2007 | Print

Going to the Pool

We have a great kid-friendly pool where the kids take their swim lessons, or rather Amelia takes a lesson and I try to convince Wyatt to take one.

There are so many challenges being one parent with three young children at a busy swimming pool I’m not sure where to start.

I suppose with me putting on a swimsuit. The JCrew ones I tried on when I was still nursing look terrible. I may write a book about the sad state of my boobs, just to get over my complex. Thankfully, on an impulse I kept a two piece with a padded top from Boden.

We get to the pool. Wyatt and Amelia strap on their goggles and hop into the shallow children’s area–an ingenious concept as there’s plenty of room for Wyatt to play.

It’s 3:30, the pool area is packed, not a man in sight. Moms group together in various chaises around the pool. I’d love to sit and chat, but instead pull my chair right up to the edge for the best view.

I find it very hard to keep track of the kids. I take my eyes away for a few seconds, look back and don’t see them. I search the chaotic waters for an interminably long minute before I locate them again. I’d pay serious money for a good lifegaurd. Just so I know there’s another pair of eyes out there.

After 20 minutes, Oliver realizes the pool is cool and must go in immediately. I disrobe to my swimsuit and we sit on the pool steps. Soon Oliver is walking around in the shallow area (it’s that shallow). I alternate between hunching over while sucking in my stomach and walking beside him on my knees.

My knees have that rough, burning skin sensation I remember from playing in the pool as a kid when I bounced off the bottom until my toepads hurt.

I consider kneepads for next time. Debate whether I’d be embarrassed and decide I’m already wearing the swimsuit, all these moms get it, a water resistant knee pad makes sense.

I wonder where I might get them.

Wyatt, already exhausted from camp and a failed nap attempt, refuses to play along with his swim teacher. The three of us talk for a bit, agree that Monday we’ll get started on the swimming part.

I pull Oliver out of the pool, give him a banana while the big kids get their five minutes till we go. Oliver’s in complete despair at the end of the banana. He calms immediately at the sight of a borrowed pretzel from an understanding mom-friend.

The best part about this pool is everyone gets it, kids scream, fight, parents struggle, and there’s no judgment. Just a pretzel when you need it.

As we’re packing up, I hear, “You guys are leaving already?”

Uh-huh. It’s like starting a new workout program–I ease myself into longer and longer time periods.

Right now, my limit’s an hour and a half.

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