Monday, September 8, 2008

A Swimingly Perfect Day

*OK, this is a ridiculously long post (lots of spaces, though). A stream of consciousness post. I pledge to go on a word diet in the very near future . . .

You know, whatever your belief system is, you gotta believe that there is a higher power up there. Sometimes he/she answers your prayers/pleas and sometimes he/she, heck, let's just call the higher power HP, k?

Anyway, HP is out there workin' it all out for you. Sometimes life works in your favor and sometimes it doesn't. But, you know HP is out there . . . all the time. Watching. Working. And wondering what the heck you're doing.

Sometimes, HP likes to play with you, mess with you . . . just a little.

Here's the scenario:

I signed up J for swim classes last Friday. No, I'm trying to turn J into the next Phelps, but if it happens, well then, cool . . .

The classes started this morning. I realized that I had no idea what I was doing. Outside of the tub and sprinkler, J hasn't had a major experience with water. Do I need a life jacket, floaties, a vest? I forgot to ask. It's the weekend. The office is closed. And me, what do I do? I have only one swimsuit (that fits) and it is a maternity suit. The bottoms now sag down to my knees (sadly, the top is actually snug). I know, you think I should just change out the bottoms. Can't. The suit is a ONE piece that looks like a two-piece.

Not only have I been desperate to find a suit in a town with exactly 14 suits left (all mismatch and made for the body of a hot fourteen-year-old model), but now I have to figure out what a kid needs for a swim class. OMG.

I need a moment.

Friday afternoon. Mr. Husband and I head to the one and only mall in the area. I peruse the racks. He peruses the racks. Um, CLOTHING racks. Gawsh.

He pulls out several suits. I take the suits away from him and tell him to go fetch a pretzel with J. He leaves. Happily.

After trying on a dozen suits, I give up. Maternity suit here I come . . .

But, just as I leave the store I spy a suit on a rack near the exit. A black suit. Sorta sporty. I try it on. It fits. 75% off. I can't describe what is does for my figure, but let's just say that outside of eighty-year-old men, I won't be getting many stares.

Moving on . . .

On Sunday, Carrie and I headed to about a dozen stores. To find an infant swim vest. Again. This is a SMALL town.

We were digging, begging, calling trying to locate just ONE infant swim vest. After hours and hours of searching we find a package for the perfect vest. No vest. Oh, HP, you mock me . . . No vest in the end, but we did find a suit with at tube built in. Whatever . . . it floats.

This morning starts out perfectly. "J, guess what? You get to go swimming in a big, big pool today!" He beams. I beam. I'm super mommy!

We start to get ready. I shower. Put on my new suit. Pack our bags.

I can't find my keys.

J starts crying.

I go to comfort him.

WHACK.

"FUDGE BUCKETS!!!" I'm pretty sure I broke my toe.

I pick him up and get ready to put him in the car. Oh, dear HP, what the heck is in your diaper, J?

Change J (oh, if only it were that easy). Pack him in the car. Grab ice for toe. Look for keys.

20 minutes later.

We are so gonna be late.

It hits me. I have a crappy suit, a baby with no gear, a broken toe, lost keys, and not a clue as to what I am doing. And, I'm gonna be late.

I get grumpy. Really grumpy. Ready to scream. There they are. The keys. In J's dump truck. Of course! Where else would they be?

Twenty minutes later we finally make it to the pool house. Great, no parking. This is so not meant to be.

But, with great resolve I am determined to make it now. J will swim if it kills me.

I park a couple blocks away. I grab the bag, the baby, the tube suit and . . .

No stroller. I have THREE strollers but not even one in my car.

J can walk, but unless I want to get there in time for next week's lesson, I have to carry him.

I hoist him up on my hip and all the stuff on the other. I am a spectacle. I have no pictures, but I am certain the group of college guys standing at the corner do.

We make it in the pool. I know I will be late. I know the other mothers will stare. I know it will be a disaster.

I stumble through the door. J barely clinging to me as I drop the pile of stuff on the floor and wipe the sweaty hair from my eyes.

It is empty.

Well, except for the three elderly ladies finishing up their senior water aerobics.

Are you kidding me??? "Am I in the right place?" I ask. One lady responds, "Well, unless there is another pool in here, then my guess is right." Oooh. She's a smarty pants. I like her.

"Where are all the other babies? The mothers? I thought I was late!" I stare around the pool room.

"You're it!" exclaims the very young instructor coming up behind me.

What . . . I'm it? "I couldn't find a vest for my son."

"That's OK. We have a bunch here!" Huh?

It was me, a sweet little lifeguard/trainer, and three elderly ladies (who later turned into J's fan club).

HP. You just loved foolin' with me, didn't you? You loved watching me freak out for no reason. That perfect smile on J's face as he floated in the water, kicking his feet, paddling his arms . . . oh, you mock me, HP.

A perfect hour. A baby so happy that I forgot what I looked like. I forgot about the fruitless and ultimately pointless search for a vest. I didn't care about my toe. And carrying J and all that stuff two blocks. So totally worth it . . .

I have no pictures becaues I forgot my camera. And, my cell phone. Well. Apparently it isn't waterproof.

Next week. I promise.

31 comments:

Beth from the Funny Farm said...

You made me laugh out loud!

What a great story.

Hope you get a new cell soon though.

Beth from the Funny Farm said...

Oh.. and I took my camera this weekend. I got to the horse show-- no camera card in the camera! Ha!

We all have those kinds of moments.

conversemomma said...

You were beautiful in the bathing suit, trust me. You were having fun with your darling son, you were the most goregous woman alive.

OHmommy said...

Oh, this was a great post. I have had so many of those days. No keys. Late. Not prepared. And only to find out that everything turned out okay.

LOL. Cute story.

Kami said...

Oh dear, quite a day, glad it turned out so well!

:-)

Timah said...

Thank you for the reminder that sometimes stressing out like I normally do does nothing more than put me at risk for asthma attacks and cardiac arrest.LOL! Today's lesson - everything will be OK in the end.

Glad you and J enjoyed your time at the pool.

Sandy C. said...

Oh my! That chaos sounds so familiar. So glad it all worked out :)

Elaine A. said...

Geez, now I am tired! Glad it all turned out well (well except perhaps for the toe...)

p.s. glad I am not the only one who has days like this. ; )

reesa_74 said...

Wow! You have such a great perspective!

I can't wait to see J in the pool. I'll bet he was a huge hit.

tommie said...

Those days are exhausting...but so glad it ended up well.

How awesome to have one on one instruction!

painted maypole said...

love the happy ending!

Blessings From Above said...

Every mom has had days like this! I am so glad yours had a happy ending.

And, that is so cool that you guys are the only ones in the class.

Lori said...

thanks for the laugh... and just think J gets individual attention, what more can you ask for?

Pregnantly Plump said...

I'm glad he enjoyed it! Sounds like a perfect day for him!

Stacie said...

great story and the story of many of our lives! LOL...I know that my HP has a HILARIOUS sense of humor and I just need to stop whining so that I can hear the laughter too!

Kori said...

Yeah, the sly bugger HP pops out when you least expect it. Great post!

Cecily R said...

That was FANTASTIC. Love your writing!

I'm late for everything. And usually there is no snarky, yet well meaning fan club waiting for me. Rude.

How's the toe?

Kathryn said...

Haha! Isn't that always how it happens? At least you both ended up having a good time. ;)

Karen said...

Ha. God has one interesting sense of humor, that's for sure. But at least no holier-than-thou moms made rolly eyes at your granny suit.

Tracey said...

Whew! Worked out in the end!!

Beth said...

This SO totally sounds like our first swim lesson earlier this year, except with a 4 year old instead of a baby!! We were late too... but it wasnt a private lesson... there were 6 other moms watching me hurriedly undress my 4 year old in front of everyone and almost toss him in the pool with the other kids! LOL Glad it ended well for you!! HOpe your toe feels better soon!

Mamasphere said...

I hope your toe's okay! But your story just wouldn't have been the same without that WHACK, lol. What a day.

MommyTime said...

I love this story. I hope your toe is okay, but I love that you managed to have such a great time in the end despite the inauspicious beginning. I hope the rest of the lessons are this lovely too!

tommie said...

PS, I have a little bloggy bling for you...come see when you get a chance!

Nap Warden said...

How crazy is it that I had the exact same day!?! I am not kidding. Good to know I'm not alone:)

krissy said...

HP...I love you but I do see the humor in your ways.

Lasik..you kill me. I love it.

Rachel H. said...

GREAT, GREAT STORY! You really made me laugh! :)_

Sue said...

Days like that are so frustrating! Good for you to perservere though and take him to the lesson!

Colleen said...

did you and I switch places? cuz that sounds like one of my crazy days :D

I'm glad it turned out well and that you both enjoyed your special private swimming class.

Anonymous said...

I loved mommy and me swim classes. They were the best. But now my kids will never, ever get out of the tub!

Lyn said...

Well said.

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