I just made the worst parenting move of all time. Walking to the pool with sunscreen, towel, beach ball and Brooklyn geared up in her swimsuit and new floatie...and one of the apartment workers reminds me that the pool is closed for cleaning on Mondays.
Well then why is it that I always want to go swimming on Mondays? Same reason I always want Chick-Fil-A on Sundays or why I watch movies with Clive Owen in them: they're unavailable to me.
I had hyped this up SO big today too. We went to Academy to get her an age appropriate floatation device...which turns out may be too small, but I guess I won't get to test it today, will I?? Sorry, frustration seeping through. I've got a really busy week at Needville so there won't be much time for Brooklyn to play, ergo I wanted to do something special with her today. Too bad you suck at being a mom, oh forgetful one.
She cried and cried and pointed to the pool as we walked back, me sobbing alongside her telling her how sorry I am. She's fine now. Sitting in the living room playing music on her tambourine. And I'm still crying. Stupid hormones. Why must women be so... feminine? Because honestly, what I feel like doing is calling Brandon and crying to him and asking him to skip baseball practice so he can console me for forgetting that Monday is pool cleaning day. Is that ridiculous or what? Does my child love me any less? No, but does that stop my tears from flowing either? NO!
Absurd. Life must be so much easier as a guy. Guys don't cry over dumb stuff like this. Guys weren't self-conscious already and didn't have to work themselves into a frenzy just to get a swimsuit on to be in public in the first place. Not that my swimsuit is ladylike by any stretch of the imagination. It's a pair of mens swim trunks and a spandex top/sports bra combo. At least it's hot pink. The shirt I usually wear to swim is a blue Ronaldinho soccer jersey.
I'm so thankful that children forgive easily. Because I feel like me telling her that the pool is closed and we have to go home when we're 20 feet away is the equivalent of telling me that you're going to give me a million dollars if you ask me to copy down a sentence and then not giving me the money because you don't like the way I dot my i's or something. No, that was a really dumb analogy... Maybe like telling me we get to move into our dream house and then hearing our realtor say at the last moment that we can't because we both have blue eyes... forget it, I can't do analogies today. But it's not a good feeling. Like pulling the rug right out from under me. There, there's an analogy.
But enough blubbering. I'm off to make the most exciting bathtime of sweet Brooklyn's life. I can go from being worst mom to coolest mom simply by letting her keep her swimsuit on while she bathes.
Winning. Epic Winning.
^Watching that makes me feel a lot better. Love the Charlie Sheen pep talks.