Monday, August 15, 2011
Editing my job description.
For a good part of EVERY summer, I sweat my ass off on the side of the pool.
I am *particularly* effective at locating diving torpedoes and preventing major head traumas, but less adept at orchestrating *actual* fun. Mostly because I don't like my face to be wet. Or my hair. Or my bathing suit, for that matter.
Me no likey being wet.
Which is SO DUMB, because sweating on a plastic chair while screaming and pointing sounds so SEXY.
But to my credit? Less than 2 years ago, I was responsible for 4 YOUNG LIVES at the pool, and fun would have been terribly irresponsible. If you ever wonder how OLD HAGS are made? It's the result of the aneurysm one has when bringing a toddler (or 2 or FOUR) to a public pool.
But today is our last day of summer. Our last day of freedom. Tomorrow I edit my job description, because for a majority of my day, I will no longer be with my little people.
Little J starts kindergarten.
Full. Day. Kindergarten.
I have so eagerly awaited this day, that I never anticipated MISSING THEM. And going to the zoo in the fall, when it's cool and empty because everyone is in school. Having lunch together. Herding them through Target. I wasn't nearly this bothered when G left me 3 years ago, but at the time, there were 3 other hooligans lining up to have their diapers changed and also my fragile, oh-so-FRAGILE mental health to deal with.
But today? Little J walked me through this idea of change. Stepping out of (perceived) comfort zones, with a drenching jump into the pool, followed immediately by another. And then an introduction to goggles and underwater waving and ACTUALLY diving for those damn torpedoes I'm always screaming over. Who told me that I hated this?
Tomorrow? I will have to take that jump all by myself. Tomorrow is about choosing differently, and taking new risks and trying new things. Letting go of old (and outdated routines), and resisting the temptation to (figuratively) sit and sweat my sunscreen into a puddle between my stomach folds.
Wish us luck.