Tips from the Trenches: A Guide to Practical Parenting

I remember long, painful minutes of torture that began once the lifeguard blew his whistle and hopped down from his all-seeing perch above the pool. Slowly I would get out of the pool and sit on the side with the other kids discussing how much longer it was going to be and trying to talk one of the innocent younger kids into going to ask the lifeguard how much longer it would be. A completely unfair way to treat the pool's main occupants, we thought.

Today, though, I finally got the other side of the picture. We are staying at a "family resort" where the children abound. The pool is madness and swimming really just consists of keeping out of the way of the kids leaping through the air and swimming between your legs. So when the blessed whistle blew today, I actually felt relief. Pure joy. Peace. And, finally, yes, relaxation.

I didn't even mind flaunting my new found space in front of the jealous eyes of 40 7-year olds. I swam and floated and rolled around like a seal released into the ocean. It was sublime. I dunked myself under the water every time one of the kids opened their mouths to speak. I swam with a joy long-forgotten. I even talked about how nice the water felt with the other Adult Swimmers.

But, as with all good things, the whistle blew and we were engulfed in a tidal wave of 40 kids simultaneously plunging into the water. Within 10 seconds, the Adult Swimmers were out of the pool and the noise was earth shattering once again.

The only question I had was for the lifeguard..."how long until the next adult swim?"

Conversation with my nearly 6-year old son...

ME: You can't put the end of the snorkel tube under the water. Water will get in and you could choke on it.
HIM: Austin knows all about this and he said you can.
ME: Who do you think knows more...me or Austin?
HIM: (Pause for thinking) I don't know.

And he's not even a teenager yet!

...And it isn't the kiddie pool.

After playing on the beach for a while, we decided to check out the pool on the way back to our room. We saw it on our way out and knew exactly where to go as it was beautifully exposed to the entire hotel populous. Full of people greased-up and cooking like fresh vegetables on a hot, fat-free olive oil Pam-sprayed skillet.

Like a good hotel guest, I read the "Rules of Entry" sign and noted rule number 1 was "No One Under 18 Allowed!" Huh!? I gasped. After pointing this out rule out to my husband who was queuing (with my son and daughter) to get in, an "Over 18 Guest" pointed "over there" to a thick grove of trees. "The family pool is over there. The kids will love it." Uh-oh, I thought.

So off we trekked back in the direction from whence we came. We burrowed around the hedges and thickly fauna-ed "wall" to locate a long line of "We may be over 18, but our kids aren't" folks waiting to get wrist bands to gain access to the pool that was deemed hidden or remote enough for them.

At first, I was insulted. What's wrong with us?, I considered. (Or at least, what's wrong with us that is so obvious that would prevent us access from the other pool.) Then, I looked around. Hey! I thought. This is where my peeps have been hiding. Apparently, the "Over 18 Pool" was code for "The Pretty People Pool" because all of a sudden I was at home in a veritable sea of imperfection! Hurray!

I guess once you have kids running your life, you no longer have time to look pretty sunning by the pool In fact, for 10 minutes, I simply counted mismatched swim suits: 31! Incredible. These people were so overwrought with their parenting responsibilities that they couldn't even match a bikini/tankini/T-shirt/sun cover-up top with an appropriate and similarly coordinating bottom.
Not only that, but those who were greased-up were cooking like Thanksgiving turkey with all the fixings. And, those who weren't laughed freely at my "Rock Lobster" jokes.

The kiddie pool is a beautiful thing!