I hate the pool. I make this confession with the full knowledge that the 4th of July is upon us, that Summer has only begun, that you may end up striking my name from the invitation list to your next poolside cookout, but I really want to get this off my chest.
My children are insatiable when it comes to spending time in the water, and I was the same way as a kid. Marco/polo. Sharks and minnows. Underwater tea parties. I am not sure what happened, but over the course of the last 20 years or so, the idea of painstakingly shaving from toe to hip, encasing my matronly torso with a hand towel’s-worth of Lycra, stepping out into the harsh light of day with pale flesh and spider veins on display, immersing myself in cold, communal water, allowing my hair to become slick and flattened to my scalp, and exposing the dark circles beneath my eyes as tributaries of mascara, concealer and sunscreen join together and form dark rivers that course down my cheeks (think Brandon Lee in “The Crow”) while listening to kids say, “Look at me. Watch this. Watch me. Watch ME! WATCH ME!!!” simply lost it’s appeal.
If raising young children has taught me anything, it is how very different I have become since the time when I was, myself, a young child. It isn’t just the pool. I have done an about-face on many childhood favorites. On staying up late. On cats. Tom Cruise. Bologna. It strikes me at the most unexpected times. I will be walking around Six Flags and find myself admiring the impatiens growing in the hanging baskets, my taste for funnel cake gone, my interest in paying a stranger $5 to guess my weight for a chance to win a plush, Rastafarian banana now nonexistent.
I have decided to start blogging. If you had given me this as an assignment when I was in high school I would have said, “How many words does it have to be?” I would have worked diligently to keep the composition as spare as possible, but the thing about it is, I am not in high school. Not even close. The person I have become really enjoys writing, and a blog seems like a good outlet for this interest. Maybe it will help me connect with a few old friends. I hope what I write will occasionally make someone smile, even if that someone is only my mother. And if nothing else, maybe it will be a good excuse for me to stay home while Todd takes the kids to the pool.