The Pool

Our days at the pool have begun. Splashing, warm, salsa music dancing days where children pop out of slides and I catch them even though I hate water in my face. I look at one flip, another dive, another jump backwards into the pool!

I brought a book to drip on. I pick it up - no, not happening. Two sentences into The Bonds that Make us Free, "I'm hungry, do you have any snacks?" We snack under an umbrella with friends that frequent the same pool. I get some meaningful girl talk in while little ones lay on the cement to warm their little bodies.

There is a new sign posted. "Children under 12 who cannot swim 25 meters unassisted must be supervised by an adult within 10 meters." I stand watch and pace the sides watching my little Sunshine. The reason for the sign is sad really. A teenage friend, Trent, who lifeguards at our fitness center has shared the many times he has plucked a drowning toddler from the water, searched for the mother for ages, only to find her on a back row of pool chairs, top unhooked, drowsily baking.

I love the convenience of our pool, we walk there. But I am saddened by what I show my daughters each time we go. Mothers strut their bronzed bodies barely covered, stick their noses in the air, wave their metalic manicures and pedicures, and exclaim over their cell phones while their children romp. My pale varicose vein covered legs, full coverage suits, baseball or straw hats, and bags full of treats strike an odd comparison. Yet, I am comfortable with who I am and why I am at the pool. I've long given up tans in concern for skin cancer and I rarely carry a cell phone. That way I can go down the tunnel slide and catch Sunshine as she screams down.

"Why do they wear those horrible things?" Ladybug asks speaking of a particularly spangly tiny string bikini. "Oh honey, I don't know. They think they look good and want the attention. I think as moms, they sometimes feel invisible and feel important if they can get people to stare at them. They certainly aren't comfortable. Don't be angry at them dear. I'm a bit sorry for them that they don't feel beautiful and comfortable with who they are." I really don't know what to say to my sweet girls who are surrounded by this type of example of body worship. Oh dear. . .

After our ears are waterlogged and our fingers and toes pruned like an old women, we head home. In our safe haven, messy pony tails and unmanicured toes don't cause a head wave fit for a drill team. Here we find a friend that spurs a dinner (dinner blog). Then we cool off and rest from our exertions . . .


Yogurt Popsicles
Mix 1/3 parts plain or vanilla yogurt
2/3 part yummy juice (strawberry-banana or pine/orange/banana - you know the kind)
Freeze in cute Popsicle holders!!! They taste better that way.