See how happy they look without swim shirts? Well I shut that down and bought them some this weekend!
It is well documented that I enjoy the summer with my children. I feel the need to state that fact before I go into a rant about how they are slowly killing me with their behavior. I already blogged on what an undertaking it is to get everyone ready for the pool. I want to pick up from there. What is it actually like at the pool? Let’s take today for example.
Today’s trip started with a small kink. I bought the boys swim shirts. If 30 dollars at the Gap can prevent skin cancer on almost half of their body AND save me hours of rubbing sunscreen on unappreciative, annoyed little people, then I say they were a steal. So did the boys. Until they actually had to wear one.
Well two of them liked them but there is always that one who wants to buck the system. The oldest told me that he didn’t like his swim shirt. I told him that I was not concerned with that and he needed to put it on. Then I hugged him because it is all about balance when raising kids.
Three excited kids and only one sulking. I will take 75%. (How OCD is it of me to have four children just to get nice round percentages like that? If you are OCD then you know exactly what I mean). This time instead of walking to the pool, I decided to drive. The reason why we didn’t walk will probably be Summer Pool Series Part 3. The walk home warrants a post all by itself.
Unlike when we are going anywhere other than the pool, I only had to tell them to get in the car once. I was walking around the house gathering pool supplies, still barking threats about how I was going to call off the whole trip if they didn’t get in the car, when I realized that they were already in there. I grabbed the weekender size bag of pool essentials and headed for the car.
The ride there was short and without incident. I know, Right? A car ride without drama. I parked, grabbed all the gear (because not one child was left there to help me) and chased them to the pool entrance. The iron gate opened and my kids descended on that pool like they are there to teach it a lesson. I on the other hand had to secure a table and a chair for me to “relax” in. I scouted one out halfway between the kiddie pool and the regular pool, that way I was ready for anything.
I got everything set up and placed a towel over my lounge chair. The very second that I leaned back to enjoy the sun, my oldest was standing there, staring at me. We didn’t even need words. He looked at me. I shook my head no. He stomped his foot and refused to get into the pool. He did not want to wear the swim shirt. As far as I was concerned he was wearing that swim shirt. My oldest son is arguable the smartest one of the bunch though so he decided to “relax” in the chair next to me, in protest. I’m not scared of him. Whatever.
The other three kids were already in the pool, splashing and playing with friends. And then there is this kid sitting beside me. About every ten seconds he asked me if he could take his pool shirt off. I ignored his pleas. I had already ruled on that request. Denied. He is no quitter though. He asked me no less than 20 times before he finally got bored and wandered off.
HA!!!!! I WON!!!!! I stuck my tongue out at him as he walked away.
Another mom stopped by my chair to chat for a minute. An adult was actually talking to me. We chatted for a couple of minutes before she said “Is that a chair in the pool?” I didn’t need to look. Of course it was a chair in the pool. I turned to see my oldest son standing beside the kiddie pool with a blank stare. Now, you must know that when you are a new mother, you try to act like you still have some sanity about you. Years ago I would have giggled and sweetly asked my son to remove the chair from the pool, please. That ship sailed.
After many episodes of being ignored or having a kid shake his head NO at me, in front of other mothers (which is the worst because even though we don’t actually have control of our kids, other mothers cannot know that) I don’t even bother with the niceties. I looked at him and said “You get that chair out of that pool before I make you sorry that you were ever born.” And you know what? He did.
I turned back to continue our conversation. We chatted for another minute when I heard her say, “Is he about to jump off of that chair into the pool?” I didn’t even need to look. Of course he was. I turned to discover that at least this time it was my middle son. He was not trying to rebel, he was only trying to accidentally kill himself, as little boys often do.
Without hesitation I said “If you don’t step down from that chair I will embarrass you in front of every friend you have and every friend that you ever make. He believed me, too. He stepped down.
Now obviously the other mother had kids of her own, so she understood. She didn’t even bat an eye. She only excused herself to go and take care of her own children. At least that is what I told myself.
Would you believe that the entire story as written above, took place in a matter of ten minutes? TEN MINUTES, PEOPLE. I deserve sainthood.
Fighting the public health threat of counterfeit medicaments
