Last Monday we had a mighty thunder storm. A couple of times lightning struck so near you could feel the thunder pop in your chest. The boys kept wanting to play on the computer but I wouldn’t let them. It’s a good thing: Lightning hit the office and got into the ethernet and we haven’t had internet for three days! It’s amazing how many times I would have checked my mail, etc. if we’d had it. We’ve gone back to listening to books on tape and CD as well as reading more. It’s great.
The house continues to mystify us with its dirt and mess, but the boys are playful and dirt is cheap. A dirt and a hose is really all they need, but Mommy wanted more, so we bought them a super cool pool! Yep, an inflatable swimming pool is in our backyard and they can hardly stay out of it.
When I’m not barking at them to stop pushing and splashing and giving unwanted baptisms, I love to see their glee. I wish I could join them more fully, but I’m nursing a wound I got at the wave pool in Calgary: a goose egg over my left brow that’s on its way to giving me a lavender eye.
We were in Calgary on Tuesday and saw a matinee of the Pixar UP. It was fantastic. Dave and I were ready to head home after but we had packed “just in case” backpacks with swim clothes and the boys just WOULDN’T hear of going home yet. Weston was crying out with every justice bone in his body, for he had been cheating just the week before in Drum when we got too tired out from groceries to stay and swim.
I looked to Daddy, waiting. Sure enough, he turned off the highway and started for the wave pool. The glee in the silence was of held breaths of joy was palpable.
So, there I was atop a three story slide, ready to venture into the tunnel of darkness and slick downward motion with my newly eight year old son. Donovan went first, but I had to wait 10 seconds for a signal and then I set forth. I didn’t want to go too fast and spill up the sides and get water in my mouth, so I decided to sit up nice and tall and let the slide to the work.
Sudden darkness, but I know I’m sliding and water is pushing me down and curving. I lean forward, trying to adjust my eyes and hearing a waterfall drop off ahead.... WHAM! What feels like a cement slab pummels me in the side of the head and I’m on my back. “Breathe. Just breathe!” I keep telling myself as I accelerate down, winding round, now in light, now in dark, now with little stars - are they in my mind? no, they’re inside the tube. I’m alive, I’m breathing, I’ve not passed out, but I can feel blood rushing to my head. Am I bleeding? Can’t tell. Oh, I feel sick. Keep breathing. Stay awake. My body is sliding up the sides and just when I think it’s safe to take a big breath, water falls into my mouth from above... a nice little surprise for entering the arena below. I’m almost done now sliding into the pool. There’s the bright eyes of my son, dancing. “Wasn’t that awesome, Mom? Wasn’t that totally awesome?” “Donovan, I’m sorry, I hit my head really bad.” I climb out like an old lady holding my forehead. “Am I bleeding?” “No. -Did you see the lights?” “Yes.” I need air. Dave sees me and I spend the next 10 minutes waiting for the pool assistants from the office to bring me ice and then check my pupils, my nerves, my neck and my muscles. Then I must sit in a cold office in my wet suit and answer silly questions. “How old are you?” asks the lean 18 year old. I think: don’t you know you’re not supposed to ask ladies my age that question? “Forty” I reply and then I feel a little foolish. Yes. I know I’m probably the only female you’ve had to treat all summer that isn’t in a bikini, but please, just get on with it. Then I think, no it’s fine that I’m forty. It’s fine that I’m wet in a modest brown swimsuit but can’t quite hold my tummy in. I went on the slide with my son, and I should have had fun, but instead I got a near concussion, now will you let me go bob in the waves? I’m forty. That’s the first time I’ve had to answer that question being this age. I’m forty. I’m forty and I like to swim.
“You should warn people not to sit up, but to lie down for that slide; it’s dark!”
“I know, everybody hits their head on it.”
(No, that's not eye shadow in the photo. Although it does look kinda cool.)
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