a pool seemed like a good idea....

Remember when you were growing up? Remember those long, endless summer days? Remember when you were a kid and the heat had no effect on your mood? Why should it? Let the temperature climb to 110 degrees? The solution for beating the merciless summer heat: a pool. If you were like me, the backyard pool was the safest toy from my childhood. I grew up in the era of jarts. Remember the kid-friendly game of lawn darts, with real darts? Fun! Nothing says a good time like a trip to the ER to have the sharp metal dart removed from your toes.

My pool held about 5 inches of water that remained ice cold, regardless of how long the pool sat in the blazing sun. What did not remain cold was the hard, plastic sides that either burnt my shins or cracked when perched upon, causing either permanent damage or a sharp edge that would impale the bottom of my foot. The pool took my dad all of 2 minutes to set up and was done with one beer in his hand. Cigarette dangling from his lip, he would toss the pool on the grass of the back yard and say, “there, get the hose.” Presto! One great thing about this pool was that it took about 5 minutes to fill to capacity. Once the pool was filled dad would turn off the hose, flick his ashes, take a swig of beer and say, “ok, have fun and don’t drown. Your mother will be pissed at me if you drown.” He would then retreat to the house to watch the game, leaving me to my pool. There was no such thing as “absolute parental supervision” with the pool of my youth.

The motherfucker of a pool my kids have is a bitch! A bitch to set up. A bitch to fill. A bitch to maintain. There is no quick and easy set, no matter what the directions say. I live in a house in which Dan and I have set up and filled a 2500 gallon pool only to have to drain and move said pool to more “level ground.” Can you say fun? I must admit that when faced with tasks like this, Dan and I maintain a united front. There can be no swearing or losing temper with each other. We work together, even if it is in a hostile silence. Once the task is done, then the potty-mouths have free reign. There is finger pointing and “helpful and constructive” criticism on how the task could have been “done better.” First we work then we “clear the air.”

When my kids want to swim I wish it was as easy as, “pull your suits on and jump in.” fuck that. No, first there is the argument about who is going to use what bathroom to change into suits. As if privacy was a main concern in our house. (Side note: I can’t remember when I closed my bathroom door. In fact, I often forget to close the door at other people’s homes. I have in fact, once had a hostess say to me, “let me just pull this shut for you, ok?” This is both sad, funny and true.) I don’t understand why they have this fight because enviably they will both be in the hallway, naked, discussing who is being more unreasonable. This can last up to 20 minutes, which I don’t even mind because I view it as a 20 minute gift of time, which I will spend indulging myself with something like, brushing my teeth or putting on clean clothes. Next comes the sunscreen. I can’t even begin to describe the sheer torture my children believe this to be, how medieval and cruel. I can’t remember my mother ever insisting on my wearing sunscreen for going out into the backyard. Beach yes, backyard? No. My son really hates this part of “going for a swim” in the pool. He fights me every single time, pounding me with “why” punches of questions. This ends with me saying, “BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND DON’T WANT YOU TO GET SKIN CANCER. I DO THIS BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, OK???!!??” Nice, huh?

Before the kids can even set foot into the backyard, I must undertake the 2 tasks I hate more than anything. Scoop the dog shit. I don’t think I need to go into detail here. Check the pool chemical balance. This is hard because I fear that the kids will develop some sickness from swimming in dirty pool water. However, sometimes there is too much chlorine with results in my daughter crying, the whites of her eyes like tomato soup and goggles are no protection against this. Remember these tasks are both done with the sun burning on my neck and sweat pouring off my arms. Then the finale, pull of the solar cover, without letting any leaves or debris into the pool, and viola: time to swim.

The kids have been hopping around on the hot pavement, imploring me to move faster and ignoring my advice to wait in the air-conditioned house. They are forced to wait again while I go back into the house to get my cold beverage of choice; this is pure agony for the kids. I sometimes just stand inside watching them outside, listening to them complain, “she is taking FOREVER, we are going to melt.” Evil, maybe, but you try cleaning up dog shit in 98-degree weather. Now I can sit in the cool shade of the gazebo, sip a cold drink, and call out to the kids, “Be careful and don’t drown.” No one is allowed to drown on my watch. And a vigilant watch it is!