That is my table

I speak in hyperbole, sarcasm, gross over exagerration and self deprecation.  It’s my way of making light of the madness of my reality.

When I say that I live at the pool though I mean that – quite literally.  We are there 7 days a week, most evenings for 3 hours at a time.  My kids bathroom hasn’t been used in months, all their showers are taken at the pool.  It’s not like they would use it anyways, for some reason everyone likes to congregate in our bathroom.  I don’t get it.  But that isn’t the point either.

I consider myself the “Norm” of our pool.  I have a table.  It is mine.  My favorite table is the first one as you walk in the door.  I picked it because I am lazy.  This table is the first one I pass on my way in, I wouldn’t want to tax myself too much walking to table #2 and heaven forbid I walk the extra 20 feet to table #5.  No, I am happy with my front and center table.

I am not a table bully.  I happen to be a chronically early person.  This promptness as I like to call it is a OCD of sorts.  May be the only one I have but it is mine and I own it.  Many hours of my life have been waisted waiting for things to start.  I am good with that.  Being late is too stressful.  As a result of my “promptness” I am usually the first mom at the pool.  Claiming my table is easy, I simply plop my handbag and magazines down and I own myself a piece of prime real estate.  (Did I mention there is a power outlet right behind my table?)

Imagine my shock when I walked in the other day and there sat a man.  With two of his children.  Did he miss the memo?  I sat there 7 days a week for a year buddy.  Get up.

Any confrontation that I have with other people is in my head.  Yeah, I am a wimp. Even my imaginary confrontation makes we want to cry.  Not my thing.  Besides, it isn’t really my table and no, I don’t really “live” at the pool.  It just feels that way.

THIS is what I get for doing a drive by drop off and going to the store for one stupid loaf of bread.  The end result – I had to sit on a couch.  It wasn’t very comfy. My kids thought I was watching practice as the couches face the pool.  And there were no seats available for my friends.  It was torture.  I also realized that “the people of the couches” talk about swimming.  Torure.  No one had the new Nordstrom catalog.

I am heading over early today.  I am willing to arm wrestle him for it.  Or maybe one of his kids, he could probably take me in arm wrestling.

I may be a bit territorial about my table but if you see me at it, feel free to join me.  It isn’t an exclusive club, sitting with me that is…Anyone can join me, the more the merrier.  I like my friends to be comfy in my home.  (I wish we could figure out how to bring wine and get some yummy nachos delivered).

Kids hanging out at “home”

Who wants to go for a hike?

After 8 days out of the pool, Grace started bouncing off the walls yesterday. She reminded me of one of those Toddlers and Tiaras kids when they are cracked up on Mountain Dew and Pixie Sticks. Today she came down. With a crash.

Chris and I went for a run this morning. We are visiting his dad in Scottsdale. We came across a great place to hike and couldn’t wait to take the kids there. We had a nice breakfast and suggested the hike. Five hours later I gave up and took a shower. They weren’t going anywhere. Chris couldn’t even get them to go to Target.

Lethargy has set in. I just took my first mid day nap since college. Sophie did a few laps of fly in the 8 meter backyard pool. Sarah has mastered Cut the Rope on the iPad and Grace helped make a salad for lunch. I didn’t even go on the Target Run but I did ask him to pick me up a copy of US Weekly. I see conditions deteriorating rapidly.

I don’t know how people sit around all the time. It is painful.

What is the difference between a swimmer and a baby giraffe?

Baby Giraffes are coordinated.

Swimmers – arms and legs everywhere. They need the water to actually slow the flailing arms and legs down.

Which makes a rainy, non swimming weekend one hella boring. I posted some photos of some delicious baked goods we made. I know you are jealous. Seriously though, what the hell is there to do on a cold, rainy Saturday without a practice or a meet? We spent most of the day thinking about it.

Ice skating? No. My kids can’t stand on two feet in tennis shoes. What makes you think they could twirl around the ice on tiny blades. Besides, Junior Olympics are coming up. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

Does this look like an activity for a swimmer? Before Junior Olympics????

Bowling? My 12-year-old is 5’7″. If eye hand coordination were our strong suit don’t you think she would play basketball or volleyball? We duck when balls are thrown at us. I don’t need them swinging 12 lb balls behind them. Plus, that is really hard on the shoulders. What with Junior Olympics coming up and all.

This is how swimmers roll.

We could go see a movie. Right, as a family. Dad and I are cool. Coolish. (and none of you have any money). I know, none of us can sit still for 15 minutes let alone 2 hours but it *might be* fun.

How about we go watch metros? High school swimmers setting National Records? Who knew three girls could roll their eyes is unison.

I know, let’s go to the cool indoor pool with all the fun waterslides and diving boards. Yeah, the one you practice at 7 days a week. Won’t that be fun? No need to get angry, it was just an idea.

Since we haven’t been to the grocery store in 5 weeks, how about a family trip to Costco. Free samples. I might even splurge and buy you a slice of pizza.

The mall is out, we already own all of the yoga pants and skinny jeans that Hollister and Abercrombie sell.

Thank you swim gods for giving us meets the next four weekends. I know we bitch about them but that is all for show.