We had nothing else to do today, so, why not go to the pool...again! I think we're trying to set some sort of record to see if someone can actually go to the pool every single day throughout the summer. I think we're leading in the polls. The Home Owners' Association is going to rue the day they let us move in. Unbeknownst to them, they built the community pool just for us and our daily swimming pleasure. :) So, we take advantage of that fact as often as possible. We even went 3 times in one day just recently. Do you know how hard it is to scrub suntan lotion off of children when they have been immersed in it 3 times in one day? They still have a rather oily hue to them.
Anyways, it seems that we're always the only ones up there (at least at 9 o'clock in the morning). Last night we had a horrible thunderstorm that produced alot of wind. Evidently, that wind blew most of the chairs into the pool. The boys were terribly excited about getting each and every chair out all by themselves - this way they would really be able to prove their true superhero identities/superpowers. With so much muscle around me, I only needed to stand at the edge of the pool and help hoist the chairs onto the deck once I was given the appropriate 'signal'. Well, that and keep Chloe from trying to take a running jump into the pool to help her bigger brothers. She was mistaken and thought that the 'signal' was her cue to jump in.
After successfully saving the pool from all unwanted intruders (lawn chairs) we were finally free to play. We were having a grand old time trying to jump through the inner-tube. Rather, the boys were having fun watching mommy attempt to fit her 'motherly' body through a child-sized inner-tube without getting stuck and needing to deflate the entire tube in order to wriggle free. When all of the sudden we see something else in the water with us.
Forgetting the 1st commandment of motherhood (thou shalt not scream or panic when thou seest a bug), I belted out, "QUICK - EVERYONE, OUT - NOW!!! - AND I'M NOT JOKING!". I believe they reacted to my earnestness with appropriate speed. The hibbie-jibbies are coming on strong now and I shiver as I try to regain clarity of mind. There are no rules I've every read anywhere on what to do if you see a little critter swimming in a pool. So, since my husband wasn't here and I couldn't pass the unwanted task off to him or anyone else (since we were the only ones there), I had to think of a plan - quick!
Thankfully, the boys started thinking of one for me. Their curiosty was much greater than mine. They started walking over toward 'it', whereas I was trying to walk backwards away from 'it'. I start assuming the worst, it must be a snake. The little creature is actually swimming (ughh! gross!!!). Once I start inching a little closer I realize that it's too short to be a snake, so it must be a salamander (still gross). But the boys don't seem to agree with me. Bennett makes the all important deduction that he believes it is poopie. Thank God that wasn't it!!! So, what else swims, is short, a little hairy, has little paws.... oh my gosh... IT'S A MOUSE - YUCK!!!!
That's when I put my foot down and declared, "Well, that's all the swimming for us today!" I thought my children would thank me from just rescuing them from imminent danger. Instead, the response I get is close to a full blown temper tantrum. What?? I'm totally confused. You are not happy with your mother for keeping you out of the same contaminated water that a gross mouse has been in? Obviously not since their faces are starting to contort in all strange types of ways as they try to find the right pose that will release the most amount of forlorn tears. Do they really think that that will make me change my mind? I look at them and laugh and say, "You guys can't be serious! We are NOT swimming with a mouse". To that Bennett responds with utmost seriousness, "But I like mouses. They are my pet.".
Instead of high tailing it out of there as was my original plan, I let them stay and search for our little swimming companion (out of the water - of course). I had tucked Chloe safely away in her stroller with a large enough supply of pretzels, so she was oblivious to the entire escapade. She only cried when her food ran out. Oh, how I yearn for the 'simple life' again!
