Fun Times

Dave was out of town for the first half of this week (he was in Joplin, MO, helping with tornado relief), and, as I usually try to do when he's gone, we tried to keep as busy as possible so that the days wouldn't seem to s-t-r-e-t-c-h too long. It's a bit of a tricky balance - it's important, as the temporary single parent, to save enough energy for bedtime, but letting the natives get restless can leave one rather frazzled, with no reinforcements arriving at 5:15pm. So this is why it can seem more appealing to take five kids to the pool a couple times, to the library, to the park, and even out to eat rather than to stay at home all day every day. And overall, it works, but occasionally in the middle of one of these outings, I wonder, "Exactly WHY was this a good idea?"

Take a pool trip, for instance. We go to the local Y, which has two indoor pools. Outdoor pools are more refreshing in the summer, but for our purposes the indoor arrangement works nicely, since keeping the kids in a confined area helps me keep tabs on everyone. When I take them by myself, they usually require a few hours of notice and repeated reminders leading up to leaving for the pool, the final hour punctuated with simple directions like, "Suits! Shoes! Towels!" and then finally, "Car!" And it doesn't matter how prepared I am, it always seems like it takes at least thirty minutes to get everyone in the car and buckled in, but once we finally do it, the Y is about five minutes away. We arrive, I open the car doors in strategic order and with specific instructions so that I don't have kids dashing out into the parking lot. We file in ("DON'T touch the automatic door button!") and head to the family locker room, which is basically the size of a large bathroom. It has a shower and several lockers, and is covered in tile, which makes amplifies sound in way that is apparently very appealing to the boys, because as soon as we get in, they ratchet up the volume and start slamming lockers. Fortunately all we have to do upon arrival is drop off our things, so this stage doesn't last very long, and into the pool we go.

We usually spend about an hour in the pool - that appears to be about Scarlett's limit. The older kids usually do their own thing, but the younger ones and I stick together, of course. Ryan can swim, and he likes to show off his skills and tricks. "Mom, watch! Mom, look! Mom! Mom! Mom!" For an hour. I do my best to watch and cheer him on, but of course I'm holding and entertaining Scarlett while Chase, for the most part, is gleefully hanging on to some part of me and even climbing on my head. For an hour. At some point I consider that it seems a little ironic that this outing is supposed to be a fun and relaxing way to help me keep my sanity...and I realize that while "relaxing" might not apply, it really is fun, in a way that probably only a mother could understand, and I love that we're all having a good time together. But as I said before, Scarlett starts to get tired after about an hour, so, in a process that must be perfectly timed and carefully orchestrated, I round everyone up and we head back to the locker room.

Now, I know the return trip, as we dry off and change back into our clothes. will be crazier than the first time. This will be especially true on this particular outing, since I've brought soap and intend to get everyone showered while we're there. So I know I'll have to pick my battles in an effort just to get things done and get everyone out the door. In fact, pretty much the only thing I really attempt to control is keeping the noise level a decibel or two below a deafening roar; otherwise I accept the fact that things are just going to be pretty chaotic. Sure enough, as soon as we enter the locker room, the boys start jumping in and out of the lockers - i.e., the "brain swapping machines," with a satisfying SLAM each time they do. At the same time, they keep hitting the button on the air dryer, providing continuous background noise. How they manage to do all this for the entire time we're there, I'm not sure. There's only the three of them - Aimee prefers to change in the women's locker room - but it seems like there are ten kids providing the mayhem. Of course, Scarlett contributes to the noise when she starts crying, her voice rising to a pretty determined and angry wail. But since I anticipated this as well, I try to remain calm and just get things done. I get out the soap and convince Chase to take the removeable shower head and clean himself off - "It will be fun!" By this time I really have to do something for Scarlett, though, so I sit on the chair next to the shower (it's one of those chairs for those who need assistance in the shower, if you can picture it) and start to nurse her. It turns out she's not interested in a quick pick-me-up, but is in for the long haul, making things a little difficult when Chase doesn't want to give up the shower for anyone else to have a turn. I manage to wrangle the shower head from him, get him rinsed off, and and convince Ryan to come over for a turn (he and Drew are still keeping the air dryer running and opening and closing the locker doors). While he's coming over, I figure it's as good a time as any to get Scarlett cleaned off, so I soap her up - while she's still nursing - and rinse her off. Then Ryan gets cleaned off, and Drew wanders over - Chase takes over the air dryer button, so the noise level hasn't diminished at all. There's a tussle over the shower head, but Drew surrenders it and starts pumping the foamy soap from the dispenser next to the shower and gives himself, "SOAP POX! LOOK, I'VE GOT SOAP POX!" by dotting it all over his arms. Eventually Ryan's turn is over, and Drew takes the shower head. Ryan and Chase alternate between lockers, the air dryer, and trying to get back into the shower, all as loudly as it seems they can possibly manage. (Every once in a while, I offer a feeble, "Guys, we really don't need to yell at each other!", but I realize this is futile.) I wonder, with a grimace, what this all must sound like from outside the door, but I have to let go of caring what people think, something I'm getting better at, thanks to my darling boys. At this point, Aimee comes in and comments, "Wow - you should really hear what you all sound like from out there!" I hand her the baby, instruct the boys to get their clothes on (because now, except for Drew, they're doing all of the above while naked), and take the shower head so I can at least rinse off and wash my hair. Scarlett resumes crying, Aimee asks how long she has to hold her, the boys somehow get louder. I turn off the shower, find a corner to dry off and hurriedly get dressed, then try to wrap this all up. Some of the kids start arguing with each other, and I know our time is up and we had better get out quickly. Things reach a fever pitch first, then suddenly someone smacks someone else on the back - bare hand on skin, which is very loud and is followed by "OWWWWWWWWWWW!" I wheel around and tell them all in a whisper, but also in no uncertain terms, that the party is OVER, and we're leaving. The noise dies instantly - even Scarlett stops crying - and we gather our things and walk out, all smiles. We walk past the desk, hand back the keys to the locker room with a "Thank you!", and head out the door. I wonder if I'm just imagining the funny looks, but decide I'm probably not, and that's ok. Only a couple hours later do I realize that anyone who heard all this probably heard the smack and subsequent silence and thought that I had delivered a spanking! For an instant, I want to run back and make sure they know that it wasn't me, but I remind myself that I'm working on not caring so much what people think. Anyway, they were probably just glad things got quiet.

Thus passed a few hours of the four days Dave was gone, and believe or not, they go down collectively in my book as a successful period of diversion and entertainment. If you have a family of several and have some experience with temporary solo parenting, you probably can believe it. If you don't, well, you can take my sister's approach. She's pregnant with her second child, and one of the last times I was talking to her on the phone, I caught myself monopolizing the conversation with stories about my kids. I apologized, but she said, "Oh, I like hearing about your kids. It reminds me to cherish each quiet moment while I can."

Good idea!