Dear smiley mother who reads daily at the public pool:
You don’t know me. I, on the other hand, know you quite well. You have brought at least four paperbacks, two library books and countless new Kindle Fire downloads to the pool this month. (Great purchase. Awesome cover!) If I’m not mistaken, you read an average of three books a week. I’m insanely jealous.
I saw you smiling at me and the kids last week. The way we interacted. You laughed when I ran after them. You chuckled when I sprinted twenty times to the bathroom with my two year old every time she loudly proclaimed, “I have to go potty!”.
I glared at your book. Your new read, the one I have been eyeing-up on Amazon.
You talked to my kids. You engaged them in conversation. You enjoyed seeing their sticky ice cream hands, listening to their stories about slides and watching their adventures in the sandbox. You really cared. You listened.
I, on the other hand, gave you the evil-eye while you basked in the sun with your new book on your lap. I grew more jealous with every page you turned.
My summer experience is still fuzzy. My pool experience is a hectic, sticky, hot, messy blur.
While you were reading, I ran after a two-year old tornado who refused to use flotation devices or swim diapers. *exhausting*
While you turned pages, I searched for my six year old’s bobbing head in the “big pool.” She’s finally comfortable swimming in the deep end. *panic-inducing*
While you downloaded yet another new book, I kept the eyes in the back of my head fine-tuned to check my eight-year old and his new friend (acquaintance). *stressful*
I’ve been jealous of you. Very jealous. I’m sorry. So sorry. But thank you.
I’m grateful for my “now”: three crazies and what that entails. The sticky hands, the whiney messes, the unavoidable meltdowns.
Changing diapers does seem easier than driver’s licenses and drop-offs to a new college. I’m taking it, absorbing it and learning to love it…or at least truly appreciating it and not wishing a second away.
Until next summer…or many, many after that. Enjoy turning pages. My time will come.
P.S. Please excuse my “stink-eye”. It’s purely out of love.