pool | Am I Really?

What is better than a beer, hot dog, and baby urine in the pool?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

This is how Summer 2013 is rolling out for my family.

We belong to a local pool. It is simply awesome. It is also very Caddyshack-esque, except none of the patrons are the snooty country club types. Instead, we are all the crazy caddy’s who act like we have never seen a body of water before.

You know the scene from the movie when all of the “help” descends upon the Bushwood Country Club pool? There is a lot of excited screaming, running, and inflatable devices.

It is like this every day at our pool. Only with a water slide and mixed drinks.

The pool has about forty-eight lifeguards, which means I don’t have to worry about watching my child. In fact I have not seen her in three days. Just kidding. Not really.

And yes, once a week, they need to evacuate the pool due to an “incident.”

We have yet to find a Baby Ruth in the pool.

Every time I walk through the iron gates with two inner tubes, my daughter’s swim fins, and a pool bag that will surely dislocated my shoulder one day due to the weight, the Get the hell out of my way because I am going to Cannonball into the pool feeling washes over me. It is nice to know that the simple things in life are still kicking like karate. If you dig a cement hole in the ground and fill it with water, you can entertain the masses.

And much like roller rinks, the pool atmosphere has not changed since we were kids. Other kids (and grownups too) still high-five you when you are going down the waterslide; the tweens still walk around and check each other out, then go eat their Cheetos on the grassy hill and talk about it; and you can still get an ice cream Drumstick. Aside from the frozen Jack and Coke machine, I might as well be back in the fourth grade.

If you don’t have your summer plan worked out, or if you are tired of sweating in your jean shorts, give me a buzz, you can be my guest at the pool.

Then put your name on the list, because it is a five year wait to become a member. Apparently everyone wants to be a kid again…with a Bud Light.

What the parents do at the pool.

It’s already happening. All I want to do is sit around and well….sit. I want to drink a cold margarita on a hot day and get a tan. When three o’clock hits, I have to slap myself so I don’t ditch everything and go read a book on the couch. Or better yet, take a nap. And dear God, the new movie releases? Somebody hold me. They look so fantastic I might move into our local AMC Theater. That and they have a full bar.

Oh yeah, it’s summertime.

Doing nothing is not in my nature. The thought of sitting and relaxing seems like some type of CIA torture tactic. I have recently come off a number of months of non-stop movement. They have included three moves (one out of state), a few personal tragedies, re-entering the workforce, changing schools, taking a class, volunteering, and well, just living.

I am not sharing this so someone will send me a Cookie Bouquet for my efforts (but I do love a large cookie). Every one of us has a lot on our plates nowadays. I only mention the above near-coke induced type of stress to illustrate why my body is naturally craving a sit-on-the-front-porch-and-drink-sweet-tea-all-afternoon relaxation.

Most people feel some form of the summer lazies around this time of year. The weather is warm and the sun strong, naturally sapping our energy. Cookouts become abundant, aiding to the sitting and eating way of life. Longer daylight hours allow us to enjoy the outdoors and lounge around.

I say bring it on.

We spend so much of our lives running around. Sometimes I go so fast that a week goes by and I can’t even recall what happened. I want to put that crazy b*tch in a box and enjoy the season.

Since summer is naturally a sensory time, below are some of the things I look forward to experiencing. Good and bad:

Licking the melting Popsicle juice running down my arm.
Smelling like bug spray and citronella everywhere I go.
Hair always in ponytail formation, or frizz so intense resembling the “before” in a Garnier commercial.
At the beach – every PB&J sandwich and food item tasting like sand.
Burning my rear end when sitting down in my car.
Taking my burnt bum to the movies every week.
Sand everywhere. Even in my wallet come late October.
Running away from bees looking like a cartoon character.
Listening to my daughter complain about the heat. Then watching her walk achingly slow to the car while my flesh starts to spontaneously combust.
My feet sliding around in my flip flops due to overactive sweating.
Reading all the Facebook posts about how hot it is, accompanied by pictures of the dashboard temperature gauge.
Watching the fireflies and fireworks.
Screaming like all those no-name actors from Nightmare on Elm Street when I find a gecko in the house. Then trying to catch it. Then giving up. Then finding it in the washer (why do they go in there???).
COLD BEER.