Reason No. 47 For My Graying Hair

I'm uncomfortable around swimming pools.  I doubt I'll ever be able to relax and read a magazine while kids are swimming.  I just can't do it. And I'm even more on edge at pool parties. At soirees involving swimming, I won't touch a drop of alcohol and I really loath to leave the water's edge for any reason.  Swim lessons helped me relax some as La Nina is half mermaid these days, but the Magster needs another summer before she is water safe.  

Friday was Maggie's end of the year swim party, hosted by one of her good friends.  So with a good deal of trepidation, I packed the van with our swim suits, a salad for the pot luck, every conceivable floatation device and goggles.  I even put in a change of clothes for me.  We headed over to the house as I reviewed the rules with the girls.  No running on the deck, no dunking people, no flips off the diving board (yes, I need this rule for La Nina), etc.

The party was great.  The kids had a blast.  The weather wasn't cooperative, so none of the moms went swimming, but we stayed right near the pool chatting and munching on salads.  For the most part, the Magster stayed in the shallow end, but watching her swim was like watching an Indiana Jones movie.  It was one daring stunt after another.  She jumped off the side of the pool, walked along the edge of the spa and with her favorite floatie, she ventured into some deep water.  Considering most of the kids her age never left the steps, I didn't want to discourage her, but she was adding gray hair to my head faster than the chocolate chip cookies were adding pounds to my butt.  

After a couple of hours of swimming, a fight broke out between my children.  Maggie was floating on a ball and La Nina wanted the same ball.  There were other balls, but La Nina just had to have the one her sister was using.  Within seconds, it was clear this fight was going nowhere good.  I told La Nina to leave Maggie alone as she was close to the area where she couldn't touch and there were other balls. Like any self-respecting six-year-old, La Nina ignored me and knocked the ball out from under her sister.  Maggie sunk like a stone.  She couldn't touch and it was clear her swimming skills were not strong enough to save her.  

Without thinking, I went into the pool, shoes and all.  I grabbed the Magster and headed to the water's edge.  She was gulping for air and balling her eyes out, but otherwise she was perfectly fine.  As the other moms handed us both towels,  Maggie buried her head in my shoulder and complained about her sister...who I'd already ordered from the pool and told to go get dressed.  Her afternoon was of swimming was over.  

After about two minutes of crying, Maggie pulled back from my shoulder, cocked her head and asked, "Mommy, why didn't you put on your swim suit?  You got real wet."  

As she hopped back into the pool, I huddled deeper into my towel.  Dripping wet jeans clung to my legs, shoes squished on my feet, but I refused to get changed until Maggie was out of the pool and in the house.  She may not have been traumatized, but I was.  The experience confirmed all my worst fears about pools.  Trouble happens in the blink of an eye and you have to be vigilant whenever the kids are near water.

 

As I pulled on my dry sweats and long sleeve tee-shirt, I learned another important lesson. I'll never go to the pool again without a change of clothes for me.  Just in case.