CNMB Day 3

(Alternate title:  I Know I'm Not Part of the Club)

I am a swimmer.  There is nothing in this world that I love to do more than swim.  There are a few problems with this hobby, however.  First of all, I don't have access to a pool on a regular basis.  Sure, there are local pools.  But have you looked at a community pool?  I mean, really looked?   There are no adults in the pool.  It's full of children.  Children jumping, children fighting, children peeing...but no adults.  I don't want to look like the doof coming to the pool with no child, swimming along in the pool with every other child's urine.  The second problem is that, until recently, I haven't had a kid to drag to the pool.  I do now, but we'll talk more about that in minute.  The final problem is that I don't like being seen in my swimsuit.  At all.  I don't want to wear a mommy swimsuit, but I don't want to wear a bikini, either.  My strategy is that when I swim, I leap into the water as soon as possible, hiding my body from any onlookers.  This works well if you go to the pool with no child, but it does not work well if you are at the ocean.  No one wants to see me run down the beach and then when you finally hit the water, it's like 1 inch deep.

This year, I was so happy.  I finally had an excuse to go to the pool!  Who cares if the former baby likes the water as long as I get to swim??  My joy was short lived, however, upon arrival to the pool.  You see, in case you didn't know, I'm not a mommy.  So I hadn't thought about the logistics of taking a toddler to the pool.  We arrive at the pool and I notice that I am literally the only adult in the water.  All the other moms sit around the edge slathered in oil, reading books, drinking beer (no, really) and in general pay no attention to the kids in the water.  And then here I come, the whitest person in the world.  Usually, I can just leap into the water so that these women don't see me (aside:  when did moms get so hot?!).  However, with the former baby, I can't just jump in.  I have to walk, slowly, across the sidewalk and to the baby pool.

Even this pool has its problems.  You can't hide your body in a baby pool, because it's shallow!  Foiled again!  So not only am I mortified that people can see me in a swim suit, but now I'm blinding the world with my white, white skin.  Then, the former baby wants to go back and forth between the "little cool" and the "big cool," as he calls them.  This requires me to get out of the water.  In front of other people.  As we walk between the pools, I can just imagine what the real mothers are thinking.  In reality, they probably aren't thinking a thing, but I feel like bursting out in my loudest voice "Don't look at my jiggly thighs!  Why do I have a bigger baby gut than you do, when I'm not a mother?  Yes, I know, I look like I'm half albino, ok?  At least I use sunscreen liberally and won't wrinkle like an old suitcase!  When we're 85, I'll look like I'm 80 and you'll look like you're 90!"  Thankfully, I haven't created a scene - yet.

I also can't turn off "teacher mode" when I'm at the pool.  It drives me absolutely crazy how no adults watch their children.  The kids steal from one another constantly.  At this pool, every hour the lifeguards take a 10 minute break and all children have to get out of the pool.  Recently, a family that looked like the Clampetts showed up at the pool.  They came in, found a spot as far away from the pool as possible, opened their cooler of beer, and never looked at their kids.  All of their children jumped in the water with no lifeguard around.  These were little kids!  Were the Clampetts paying attention?  No.  I think maybe they were suffering from lack of oxygen from the tight tight tight swimsuits they were wearing (just because you can, doesn't mean you should).  Shouldn't they notice that no one else was in the water?  Shouldn't they watch their kids since there were no lifeguards?  Pretty soon other kids were slipping into the water and I thought my brain was going to explode.

Since taking over full babysitting duties with the worlds cutest two year old, I've been reminded, repeatedly, that I'm not "in the club."  You know what club I mean.  The "I've Had a Bun in the Oven" club.  I've been taking the former baby to Story Time at the library and to the local pool.  The moment I enter these places, I swear, these women can smell that I'm not a mother.  For real!   They all sit around talking about giving birth and give me weird looks.  I'm not kidding!  Today I heard all kinds of conversations about how dilated they were, how long they pushed, and all about breastfeeding.  I'm pretty sure these women all gave birth in a pool in their bedroom, kept the placenta, planted it under a tree, and they make a pie out of the fruit from that tree each year in honor of their baby.  Their kid is literally the apple of their eye.

Well, guess what? I have never lactated.  I'm closed tight in all the right places.  I can't even get a date at this point.

And, I don't like pie.