I have been to the pool with my kids eight different days in the last two weeks. During that time, I have seen only two other mothers in the pool, and they were both with infants.
I sometimes wonder, as I get dunked by my nine year old or play pool basketball with my three boys, what all those moms sitting on the side of the pool or in lounge chairs think of me. They must think I’m odd. Slightly crazy. Maybe even unseemly.
“Just one more year,” they say.
“He’ll be swimming soon,” they say.
“Next summer, bring your magazines,” they knowingly smile.
“You won’t ever have to go in the water again.”
I admit, some days, the pool is really cold. I should probably hide my belly under a cute cover-up rather than reach for that ball with my kids’ yells drawing attention to us. And that glass of Pinot Grigio by the pool sure looks yummy.
But it would be crazy, even unseemly, to miss out on the faces of a four, eight and nine year old when their mom gets splashed.