Piddling at the Pool

We are a family of vampires.

Well, not quite, but I'm a red-head, my kids are blonde, and my hubby hisses at the sun.  Collectively, we are half a shade darker than an albino.  I should own stock in a sunscreen company.  In case you haven't ever seen me in real life, I'm pale.  My kids got screwed in the "healthy glow" department.

So when you see us at the pool, you are very likely to find us as the only family who swims in suits comparable to what our great-great-grandparents wore in 1902.  My kids wear shortie wetsuits, Scott swims in a rash guard t-shirt, and I wear *gasp* men's trunks with my tankini top.  OK, that's mostly because I have shaving issues, but we are easily the most covered up family splashing around.

Maybe that makes me stand out like a sore thumb or maybe that makes me seem crazy exotic, but whatever the case, it attracts lonely kids like moths to a flame.  The last three times I have been at the pool, clearly occupied with own little water nymphs, I have been approached (more like mobbed) by needy little boys.  Three different boys.

One was very, very interested in my kids' water toys.  Since we were three minutes from the pool closing, I let him use a water shooter.  Until I caught a woman, who was sitting on a deck chair, glaring at me like I was molesting her kid.  Thankfully, the last splash whistle blew and we were done for the evening.

The next was a kid right about Milo's age.  So five-ish.  He sidled up to me with some inane five-year-old chatter, then proceeded to splash my face with a full-on tidal wave.  I was wearing my contact lenses, so I turned my back to him because I didn't want him to wash my lenses right out of my eye.  The kid was clearly not a whiz with subtlety because he kept splashing my back.  Scott noticed and warned him, "You don't want to splash he, buddy, she'll splash you back."

But he continued to splash me until his mother FINALLY got up off her deck chair and told him, "Splashing is not nice.  Please leave her alone so I can get back to my book."

Hmm...  interesting pattern of kids not being supervised well by mothers who are working on their tans instead of keeping track of their progeny, huh?  Maybe the best pool moms are the palest?

The third kid was easily the most strange.  I do not know if he had a parent or guardian at the pool or not, but I was sitting on the edge while Violet was bouncing around me with our dive sticks when out of nowhere a kid, probably eight or nine, practically climbed into my lap with a broken inner tube. 

"Here," he said.

"Umm, that's not mine.  Is it yours?"

"Nope."

Cue uncomfortable silence as I sit there with a strange kid in my lap...

"OK, then.  I'm going to set this on the side in case someone comes looking for it and you can go back to your friends or mom or whatever."

As he sidled away, I looked over at a friend and she was clearly as puzzled as I was.  Why on earth would a kid that age just climb into a strange vampire woman's lap?  Beats me...  maybe it was a good thing that he didn't have a parent/guardian/adult paying close attention to him, because if I was his mom and had noticed him climbing on another mom, I certainly would have been suspicious.  Especially if she was as pale as the undead.

Milestone: 100th Post

I've hit a milestone!  My 100th post.  So, in honor of that, I thought I'd try a blog hop today.  Although it is doubtful I'll grow my followers from 20 to 100 today, I'm aiming for a 50% increase so that I get to 30.  As always, I reciprocate and love commenting!

I've also decided to point you toward some of my favorite posts.

It's Raining, It's Pouring is my reaction to the news that a good friend had (yes, HAD -- now she has a lovely pair of C cups that I covet) breast cancer.  It's might not be as funny as some of my posts, but I think it one of my most revealing posts.  I still tear up over this post.

Sidewalk is one of my most wistful and bittersweet posts, also the post where I feel like I really hit my stride and started singing most clearly with my voice.  It is about my darling Violet.

Lessons is about my Milo.  It is also the moment when I started tagging my posts "Mom Lessons" when I realize I'm learning more than my kids.

Laughter is the Best Medicine might be the best window into my sense of humor and the relationship I have with my family.  It makes me giggle when I read it, so I hope you like it, too!

Hosted by One 2 Try, Hearts Make Families, and Midday Escapades.

Laughter is the Best Medicine

We were out and about over the weekend and ran into several people who were... interesting... to say the least.

While at Menard's, my children were happily entertaining themselves on the demo playground they have set up, when a young fella named Jesse walked up and introduced himself to me. He looked like he was almost three and asked me, "What is your girl's name?"

I smiled and answered patiently, "Violet."

"Chloe? Cool."

Now, as far as I know, I have never in my life called Violet "Chloe", but as I didn't think I was likely to see this charmer with the thick eyelashes, I just smiled and nodded. Besides, my attention was occupied by the ten year old swinging so fast and high that I was afraid that any kid who stumbled into the path of the swing would be launched airborne for fifteen feet and likely knocked nearly unconscious. I actually called out to the little Jesse kid, "Watch out for the swing!!" as he backed up nearly into the path of the bigger child's screaming flight. Although the swinging menace continued to swing for another few minutes, he did jump off the swing eventually, much to my relief.

Up to this point, Milo had been climbing a climbing wall and sliding down the "tornado" slide. Each time, as he ducked inside the slide he called down to me, "Mom! Are there any kids at the bottom of the slide?" He refuses to slide if he thinks he's going to bump into someone. I'm OK with that.

And then Violet decided that she, too wanted to climb up and slide down the twisty slide after her brother. Scott had returned from shopping and monitored her carefully as she climbed a curved climbing wall with a hole large enough for her to drop through, like a coin falling into a piggy bank. She expertly scaled this bridge, reaching the top just as my little friend Jesse approached the platform from the other direction.

Jesse must have seen a movie with a traffic cop in it, because suddenly he was directing the traffic at the top of the slide. Milo went down, carefully stepping around Jesse. Violet approached the slide and he stopped her in her tracks. Confused, Violet looked up at him and said, "My slide down!" He then grabbed her by the waist and tried to help her into the slide's chute, something that she'd done five or six times by this point. Understandably, she was confused and didn't really want him touching her, so she wriggled free from his grasp. I wasn't overly concerned, more annoyed at this child's lack of adult supervision -- he clearly wasn't trying to hurt her, but he was trying to control the situation. She broke free and slid down the slide, shooting out of the bottom with a delighted sqeal.

By now, Milo was climbing back up to the slide's platform, when our favorite Barney Fife appeared at the top of the ladder, blocking Milo's way. That's when a new voice entered the situation -- Jesse's adult companion (mother? aunt? nanny? not sure...). "Jesse! Don't stand at the top of the ladder!"

"I'm just waiting for this chubby kid to climb up!"

Chubby kid? I look around expecting to see an actual chubby kid, but I don't. OH! He must mean my Milo...

I couldn't help it. I started giggling. "Yeah, chubby kid -- climb that ladder!"

Milo glances over my shoulder, not sure how to respond.

I nod at him and urge him, "Yeah! You -- chubby kid! Go down the slide!"

I can barely stifle my laughter. Jesse's adult looks at me like I'm a little touched.

Milo states, indignantly, "I'm not chubby!"

I assure him, "You're not chubby, love." Snort... giggle... giggle...

Milo goes down the slide. I can't stop laughing. Scott sighs and suggests that we get moving when we notice that Violet has gone down the slide again and has paused for just a moment at the bottom -- long enough for Jesse the KidKop to slide into her. To be fair, he couldn't see the bottom of the slide, but he did jump the gun and didn't allow her enough time to pick herself up from the mulch. She's not bothered in the least by this mini-mall cop kid bouncing into her, but HE looks up and shouts, "Chloe scratched me!"

And I'm a goner... Now I'm guffawing and simply can't control myself. Scott senses that I'm not going to behave appropriately and he ushers the kids to the checkout, but not before we notice Jesse, the pint-sized TJ Hooker, approaching the big swing kid. Apparently, they were brothers. D'oh!

I laughed all the way to our next stop, Best Buy. Until we pull into a parking space where I notice a couple taking out an infant travel system. The man is buried to the waist in their SUV. I expected to see him pull out a mewling and adorable baby with thick, black, wavy hair (his parents looked to be Indian). Instead, he huffs, puffs, and lugs out an infant carrier with a kid as big as Violet inside.

If you've ever seen a cartoon character's eyes fall out, that's pretty much what I looked like. Now, I'll admit that there are many people who have questioned why Scott and I are still rear-facing Violet in the car. 1) It's safer 2)She doesn't know any differently. But I will only do that for as long as it is safe to do so in the seat we have. I know of NO infant carrier that is rated to hold a child as big (ha!) as Chloe... uh, Violet. And, on top of that, the straps were so loose that he could have shrugged them off and run free if he'd tried. His poor father looked like he was trying to move a piano as he hoisted the seat onto the stroller. Crazy... I did not laugh about this.

In other news, I'm feeling much better these days -- I even exercised for the first time since the pneumonia last night. And ONE WEEK UNTIL CALIFORNIA!!! Yippee!!!