Humor · kids · Marriage · SAHM

Hot Child in the Suburbs

Ugh I’m such a slacker. It’s been over a month since my last post, and I have no excuse. So to my loyal readers (Mom…best friend…creepy guy that keeps sending me pics of his cat wearing a bikini), I apologize if you’ve been agonizing over my absent blog. And if you haven’t…well why the hell haven’t you!?

I wish I could say I’ve been just SO busy doing great Summery things like hitting the beach or taking road trips or whatever else fun, cool people do during the summer. But I wasn’t.  Unless you count standing by the blow-up kiddie pool in my back yard  a fun, cool summery thing to do. Then yeah, I’ve totally been doing that. It wasn’t suppose to be like that, by the way. The kiddie pool. It was supposed to be my Summer salvation. It’s not.

It wasn’t too many days into the summer that I decided we needed a pool. The sun and humidity were so horrible that day that even my hair was sweating. I’d been standing in the same exact spot for about 2 hours pushing my little girl on the swing when I noticed my neighbors happily splashing away in their pool. A-holes. I instantly hated these normally good friends of ours.  I continued pushing my girl when suddenly her sweaty little fingers gave way and she went flying into the fence. “That does it!” I announced to a screaming 1-year-old and an uninterested 5-year-old, “We’re getting a pool!”

The image I had in my head was a nice big family size pool. Something not too high, as I didn’t want my son to drown (okay, or myself!), but not too small cause, to be honest, this was MY toy. I was going to enjoy it and I had a plan! After a morning of swimming, I’d take the kids inside, give them lunch, and they’d both pass out from pure swimming exhaustion! Could anything be better??? Then I would creep outside, and spend the rest of the afternoon floating on an inflatable lounger, the ice in my tea clinking in the cup rest, my hair sexily pulled up, my fingertips lazily dipping into the cool water from time to time, the sweet smell of coconut oil wafting through the air. Paradise!

I tried to bounce the image off my husband, but as soon as he heard the word ‘pool’, he was set on his own idea.  Kiddie pool, easy to drain and refill, and small enough not to kill the grass. God forbid we kill the grass.  I put up a pretty good fight, but not good enough.  He won when he reminded me of the unofficial house rules. He takes care of everything outside; mowing, edging, garbage and dog poo removal, and I take care of the inside. “If you want to start helping me pick up dog poop, ” he replied, “we’ll get any kind of pool you want.” It just wasn’t worth it to me. It’s not fair I’d have to deal with dog poop AND baby poop!

Plus, I began to have a different fantasy!

The kids, happily splashing and laughing in their little kiddie pool. Me, sitting several feet away so as to not get wet, reading a book and sipping on an ice tea, enjoying the much deserved time without being needed. It would be perfect! The summer I’ve always dreamed of! Or at least since I became a mother.

We picked up a nice blow-up style that  was big enough for my husband and I could lay in together if the mood hit us. In the morning I secretly filled it up while the kids still slept. “Oh they’re going to be so surprised!” I thought. I also set out my lawn chair, a book and a magazine, and a little tray to hold my glass of iced tea. After breakfast I told the older one to get his swim trunks on. “I’m going to turn on the sprinkler” I lied. He was already thrilled. The toddler though couldn’t have cared less. She just squealed, “Outside! Outside!”

“Yes! Outside!” I thought, “You’re going to have fun playing! I’m going to have fun not having to entertain you! It’s going to be so perfect! So wonderful!”

We ran outside, all of us bursting with a joy that can only be compared to Christmas morning. My son lost his mind when he saw the pool filled. “OH MY GAWD! YOU’RE THE BEST MOM EVER! I LOVE…” and he jumped in head first.

The toddler grabbed my hand and just stood in what I thought was joy and amazement. “It’s like a big bath tub!” I squealed at her. “Isn’t it fabulous?!”

She flatly replied, “No. Swing.” and tramped her tiny butt over to the swing set.

“I don’t think you understand, Sweetie. Look!” I put my hand in the pool, “Weeeeeeee!” I smiled reassuringly. “It’s fun.”

“No. Swing.”

“She just doesn’t know what it is yet.” I thought, now trying to reassure myself. I picked her up and headed back to the pool.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”, she screamed and thrashed. I stepped in the pool myself, threatened to rip my sons arms off if he started splashing, and put her down.  “See. Fun.”

She scrambled outta that pool so fast I couldn’t even catch her, and once back at the swing set, cocked her little head and snapped, “NO. SWING.”

I followed her out, but I was determined to get her to love this damn pool! “You’re ruining the fantasy!” I thought as I picked up her little fighting body up. Her death grip on the swing surprised me. As quick as I’d pry one finger off, she had another one wrapped around.  By this time, I was sweaty and my face was red and my sexy up-do was falling out at all points and I had just about had enough!

So I put her down.  I slid my ice tea and book and magazine under my chair and then pushed the little brat on the swing. After 40 minutes, I tried coaxing her to just look at the pool, but she never budged. “No. Swing.”  My carefree summer time by the pool fantasy washed away. What’s worse, a fly died in my iced tea.  Nap Time couldn’t come soon enough.

Later that evening when my husband came home, I was in my usual place behind the swing with my usual grimace while I pushed the usual child. The good child, and trust me-that’s not said often, was playing in the pool, leaving me alone.  Steven strutted up and asked, “Why don’t you let her play in the pool?” I swear if I had had something close by to swing at him…

“I tried. she doesn’t like it.”  I muttered.

“What? You’re crazy. ” he then grabbed her off the swing and asked if she wants to splash. That little monster actually clapped her hands and squealed, “Splash! Splash!” So he put her in the pool and she held on to his leg for a mere moment before joining in on the splashing fun.

I’ve decided I hate them both.

And that’s basically how my summers gone so far. I fight with her all morning to play in the pool. Steven comes home and she plays in the pool. I glare at both of them the remainder of the night.

If I’d known my summer was going to be so crappy, I would have just picked up some dog poop and got the big pool! Live and learn!

Thanks for reading! 🙂

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7 thoughts on “Hot Child in the Suburbs

  1. hee hee. Go figure!At least you can put up a blow up pool. My kids would barrel outside behind my back the minute I steppedinto the bathroom or shower! They can not be trusted!

    I’ll take a sweaty summer in the splash pool over a snow ball fight any day. enjoy it while you can!

  2. Oh the dreaded swing! Andy was the same way! I use to go out and detach his swing and tell him we lost it just to keep from having to push him for hours on end! It worked until he was big enough to look for it!

  3. LOL. I missed your posts. I don’t go on very often with reading time to spare, but I have checked SO MANY times and your page never changed. Not even your birthday week. I have a blow up pool and I never let the kids in. Just too messy for me, its the hubs job. They are wet and squealing and running into the house and slipping and landing on their butts too often. Just not the mom of the summer. What can I say.

    I hate pushing kids on swings. Get yourself a bar stool and sit out there and kick the swing and read a book. You can both be happy.

    1. Oh no! See! Now I feel I’ve failed you! haha! Well, just to give you an update, my birthday was nice. No creepy products to report, sadly. But I did have a nice dinner laughing with my amazing friends and fantastic hubby. Part of me was SO wishing something would have gone wrong so I could blog about it, but it was actually a very nice night.

      I love that bar stool idea. That’s hilarious! Though knowing my luck, it will end in a disaster. I’d either kick too hard or not hard enough or lose my balance and fall on my toosh! But if I get bored and try it out, I’ll let you know!

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