A Day At The Pool Is No Picnic

If you read The Bikini Quandary, then you know I love being in the water. The beach is my preference, but since I live in Atlanta and the closest oceanfront respite is about five hours away, I often have to settle for my subdivision pool. It’s a nice pool that I’m very happy to have, especially on ninety-something-degree days with nearly 100 percent humidity, as is typical weather for summertime in the ATL. (They don’t call it HOT-lanta for nothin’.) But, the pool isn’t always as relaxing as the beach…

On this particular Friday afternoon, I decided to take my daughter to the pool so she could swim and I could take a break from my everyday stresses…perhaps float around on my new lime green raft. I arrived at the pool with floaties, toys, snacks and beverages in tow, to find three other moms from my neighborhood already in the pool with their children. “Oh good,” I thought. “Antonia has friends to play with and I’ll have some adult conversation.”

My mom friends were gathered on the steps across the pool, half submerged in the water, chatting happily while their kids splashed about. They waved me over as I started down the opposite set of stairs into the pool. Immediately, as if I was some sort of honing device for creatures under the age of eight, all the children in the pool bee-lined toward me in a splashing, noisy frenzy. I assumed they were coming to welcome my daughter. Instead, like hornets swarming around their disturbed nest, they assaulted me with screams. “Watch me! Watch me!” one little boy yelled at me. He held his breath, went underwater, then emerged all too quickly and waited for my response. “Wow. That’s great.” I said, half-heartedly. “Can you stay under longer?”

Another kid was yelling, “Miss Karla! Miss Karla! Can I play with Antonia’s water shooter?”

“Noooo! I just got it!” Antonia shouted back.

“Everybody has to share,” I reminded them as I tried to make my way toward the other moms. Didn’t they see I was being assaulted? Could they stop talking for one second and call off their children? Not a chance. They kept talking as if they didn’t hear the commotion coming from my side of the pool. I ventured into the water trying to make my way across the shallow end. The swarm followed me.

When I finally got there, the moms were in the middle of a discussion. I stood by waiting patiently for some kind of acknowledgement to join the conversation. After a few minutes, one of my friends said in a voice loud enough to drown out the screaming kids, “Oh my gosh! We had the BEST swim lesson the other day! That lifeguard taught Julia how to swim in the deep water! Can you believe it? We are going to keep coming to lessons so by next year she can be on the swim team. Don’t you want Antonia to be on the swim team? They practice Monday through Thursday for an HOUR each day! An HOUR! Isn’t that great? She can come here and swim and have something to do for an HOUR every morning next summer.” She looked at me, waiting for a response.

Umm… OK. I hadn’t thought about the swim team yet, since my daughter can’t even swim with out floaties, and next summer is a YEAR away, but…sure. Anything is possible. “Wow. That’s great,” I said smiling.

“I’m gonna give you the lifeguard’s number. You HAVE to call him and get lessons for Antonia. He is so good and very reasonable. So, you gonna call him? It’s a half hour lesson, ‘cuz, ya know, they can’t last an hour with their attention spans, but, I mean, a half hour is perfect and Julia was swimming in the DEEP end after the first lesson! I’m giving you his number. You HAVE to call him.”

“OK,” I said again. Between the assault from the kids and the barrage from this over-enthusiastic mom, I felt my stomach knotting up with anxiety. I thought I was coming to the pool to relax. Deep breaths. Maybe if I go under water I can drown out all their voices.

Not missing a beat, the moms resumed their conversation about I don’t know what as I swam back toward the kids across the pool, cursing myself for not packing beer in the cooler. Which was the lesser of the two evils? The kids or the moms? I decided to try the kids again. Maybe they would leave me alone if I didn’t make eye contact.

“Mom! Mama!” Antonia yelled in my face. “Look what I can do… HEY! THAT’S MINE!!!!” she shouted at another kid who was playing with her Nemo floatie.

“I know,” the other kid said sheepishly. “Can I use it?”

“Oh sure,” Antonia told her happily, bobbing up and down.

“Hey! Antonia’s Mom! Hey! Why don’t you get back in the water?” another little boy asked me, as I was sitting on the steps, willing myself to become invisible.

“I don’t want to,” I told him. You can go away now.

“Can’t you swim?” he asked me, spraying water in my face.

“I can swim,” I told him.

“In the deep water, too?”

“Yes, even in the deep water. I can swim around this whole pool if I want to. I can even go off the diving board.”

“So, why don’t you?” he pestered.

“I don’t want to,” I said taking a swig of my water, imagining it was an ice-cold Bud Light Lime.

Nine children. NINE. I counted. All trying to impress me with their aquatic skills; all fighting over my daughter’s toys; all yelling at decibels that should be reserved for jet engines during takeoff, and fans at a Georgia Tech vs. UGA football game.

“Is that your raft?” a little girl asked me, pointing over to the lounge chair. My new lime green raft! I had forgotten all about it. The little girl looked at me with anticipation.

“Do you want to use it?” I offered.

She clapped her hands and squealed. I picked up the new raft that I had just filled with air prior to coming to the pool – the lime green raft that I had envisioned myself serenely floating around on this afternoon. Instead, the biggest girl in the pool gave the little kids turns riding on it. They were having a blast, and they were not yelling in my face anymore. I sat on the steps watching and wishing I were at the beach.

After a couple hours, and a few more, “Please don’t squirt me in the face,” reprimands to a little boy who was about as much fun as a mosquito, I decided it was time to go. The other moms screamed to their kids to get out of the water. (That explains why their kids talk so loud.) I gave Antonia the 10-minute warning and began collecting her toys. As I was packing up the diving rings I heard, “Mama! Watch this!” I turned around to see my daughter, who couldn’t swim without floaties, SWIMMING ALL BY HERSELF WITHOUT FLOATIES!!

“Oh my gosh, Antonia! You’re doing it!” I exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm. I was so proud of her! When nobody was looking, and she was in the pool all by herself, she decided she was going to swim. I got back into the water. “Do it again!” I encouraged her. “You’re swimming! Show me again!” I almost started to cry I was so overcome with emotion. I felt my irritation melting away. As the other kids and moms packed up to leave, my daughter and I stayed in the pool and practiced swimming without floaties.

After a half hour of Antonia jumping into the pool and swimming across to me, with her face in the water, arms and legs moving like a frog, we got out. I hugged her tight. I was so proud! She had been working on this for the past three summers, and today, amidst all the chaos, it came together.

“This was a fun day at the pool, wasn’t it, Mama?” she asked, looking up at me with her big, brown eyes.

“Yes, Antonia,” I told her. “The best.”