With the first child you pack for an afternoon pool trip like you’re going to South America for the weekend. There is no end to the arsenal and array of sunscreens, sprays, salves, and balms. You have floaties and backup floaties. You have snacks organized by food group. You lose a pound of sweat just carrying and loading the pool bag into your car. You have your cell phone, digital camera, hand held video camera, and extra batteries.
Pretty much you are an OCD freak about the pool. All the years spent lounging poolside perfecting your tan pre-kids will be wiped from your memory in a tsunami of over preparedness. Going to the pool becomes a quest, not quality time.
With the second child you toss a lone bottle of spray sunscreen into a bag, loose change for the vending machine, and don’t flinch when she jumps into the four-foot deep section of the pool a la jeronimo sans floaties and sinks immediately to the bottom because your husband is standing right there and you know he’ll yank her out and she’ll be grinning from ear to little shit eating ear.
Originally published on Jamie Reeves