Saturday, June 18, 2011
Pools, Swim Lessons, and Logs
Once a week I take a moment to interrupt my simple life journey to share with you some extra bonus material to make you smile. Enjoy!
It was a normal day at swim lessons
A strong smell of chlorine filled the air. Children laughing, kicking and splashing. Everything was normal. Everything was good. My husband and I sat along the poolside watching on as our three children were being taught by their separate swim instructors.
“Look at her in her little, pink ballerina tutu swimsuit, Dan, isn’t she darling?” Oh, yes, he could not deny it. She bounced up and down out of the water, every once in a while her knees would bend too low and she would get water in her face and do that crazy, violent breathing and gasping for air thing, as if she were drowning. Precious.
We looked over at our 5 year old boy. How proud we were of him. “Look, he doesn’t even notice anyone or anything around him. He is so into it, and he is so coordinated,” I said to my husband. My husband nodded in agreement as he looked on.
Then suddenly, my 5 year old boy and his class and teacher were all exiting the pool. “What is going on?” I asked in confusion. I looked up at the clock and we were only halfway through the lesson. “They can’t be done,” I said, puzzled. Oh, but look, the teacher was leading them to the adult pool. Maybe his class is so good that they are moving them up to another class already. Yes, that was it. My son was so talented, as his mother I knew, but this time someone else saw his talents as clearly as I did. “Honey, look,” I hit him in the arm, “He’s moving up a class,” I said proudly.
But then…. What? Why were the other classes exiting the pool? In an instant everyone was rushing to the sides of the pool, pushing one another, screaming, swimming over one another. There was a frantic, crazed exodus out of the pool. What was going on?
I looked around. All of the parents who had been sitting beside us were gone. All that was left was me and my husband. We sat there wondering what the chaos and commotion was all about.
We looked across the pool and there stood the three year old class outside the pool, arms crossed over themselves, shaking. They were standing in a row facing the teacher, and she was bending down talking to my daughter. She said something to her; then she looked over across the pool at my husband and me. Then she said something to her, and then she looked back at us. Over and over again. Her head going back and forth.
What in the world? I looked at my husband. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
I walked over to the other side of the pool. “What’s wrong?” I asked the instructor. Her eyes met mine and the words that came out of her mouth couldn’t have been more disturbing.
“I think your daughter pooped in the pool.”
Everything around me went silent. The blood rushed to my face and suddenly I could feel every eye turn my way. Eyeball lasers. And they were making me feel very hot.
“I think your daughter pooped in the pool,” she said again, attempting to get a response from me.
I walked forward to my daughter and pulled her bathing suit away from her body to look inside. On no.
“Did she?” the teacher asked me.
All I could respond with was, “Maybe.” Yes, maybe sounded like a safe answer. Maybe yes? Maybe no? Maybe you’ll never know? But she did know and I did too.
My daughter pooped in the pool!!!!!! My brain was on overload and about to explode.
Because why would I put a swim diaper on my daughter when she is old enough to know that you don’t poop in bodies of water?!!! And if a child does poop in a pool, it will be in the form of a log, right?!!! Easy pick up. One scoop and on with the lessons. It won’t separate into small floating pieces not easily retrievable by a pool net. People won't have to navigate through the waters to escape the floating particles. Am I right?!!! Maybe I need to back off on the high fiber diet before summer swim class starts. Plus I have never had a child who has pooped in a pool, so I knew for certain it would never be my daughter.
It would never be my daughter.
The words still ring a little in my ear.
Then behind me, there was a great commotion. Two large doors opened and out raced 5 members of the hazmat team with all of their gear. “Everybody back!” one of them shouted out.
My husband and I looked at the pandemonium before us. Everyone had terror written on their faces. Everyone but us. We felt alone, alienated. We timidly waved to anyone who would dare look our way as we mouthed the words, “Sorry. Sorry. So sorry.” I could have sworn people were shaking their heads at us in disgust.
We began making our way down the long walk of shame to remove ourselves from the premises. We walked with our heads and shoulders slumped forward as low as they could go.
“Why are we leaving so early?” “What happened?” my boys were questioning loudly. “Shhh,” I tried to quiet their voices. I whispered in a muffled manner, hoping no one could hear me, “Ah, um, well, your sister pooped in the pool,” The truth. Yes, it was best to stick with the truth.
“And it wasn’t in the form of a log,” my husband added.
And he was right.
It was more like an underwater explosion.
Who knew that poop could break apart into fine particles and spread throughout an entire pool within seconds?
Be warned. And always be watching. Because it can.