I put on a swimming costume - oh yes - and I got into a swimming pool - I really did - and....... I actually quite enjoyed myself. A bit.
Obviously after lots and lots of swearing about how much I hated Tonbridge and its stupid little roads that- no.......... I shall not burden your sensitive eyes with my foulness.
And maybe there were lots and lots of Marge Simpson noises trying to shepherd two Punch and Judy-esque small boys in and out of changing rooms, toilets and (god!) - SHOWERS - under which it appeared they didn't dissolve.
But I did it. And I hardly got my hair wet. Bonus. Or lost my glasses. Double Bonus. And my ladybumps didn't slump out sideways. Or under. Or anywhere. Triple Bonus.
I did, however, spend most of the time making sure that nothing slumped out - from my 3-piece-chin-to-mid-calf-practically-an-evening-gown-of-a-cossie. Or rode up. Or flopped about. Or fell off. Or even ruckled. Time well spent. And even managed to flip out a few discreet leg swishes in the 2 foot deep water. That's lady exercise that is. In between fish-wife screeching to STOP RUNNING STOP JUMPING DON'T SPLASH WHERE'S THAT BABY? STOP-oh you're not mine........carry on then sweetie..... GET BACK HERE D O N ' T R U U U U N !!!!!!!!!!!!!...........
It was all going soooo welllllllll. It was really. Happy (and now clean) little faces. Seal Boy (having passed for 10 in pulled-down baseball cap) swooshing off into the depths of the Big Pool unfettered and wild; little Thuglet wetly cute in his Goo-Goos (goggles to humankind) on the crocodile slide and with Big Sis being all nice and sing-song bobby-up-and-downy. Even little Rock Godling being sociable and giggly without needing to show anyone his willy (well - not IN the pool anyway - and it was only to Big Bruv when he yelled outside the changing cubicles trying to get lock-on coordinates for us - that's fine - only cost me £3 to buy his silence). You see? All going (pardon me but....) swimmingly.
And then we had to get dressed again.
I can't even begin to dredge back up to the front of my poor damaged mind the horror - the HORROR......
I have consigned it to the place where I discard 96% of my child-rearing experiences:
The Fathomless Pit of Apocalyptic Lament
The Eternal Abyss of Tearing Anguish
The Sunless Chasm of Damnable Despondency
The Sheer Perpetual Gorge of Unimaginable Howling Despairs
The Bomb-Hole of Sad
The Toilet of Trying
The Chocolate Starfish of Ex-Thought
Void
And THEN there was the cafe.................
************************************************************ (Deleted for reasons of taste and decency)
They did not get ice-cream.
But worse was still to come. I had a voucher. From my dear mother. For Xmas. To spend in ............... Marks and Spencers.
This should be joyous surely? No. It is Marks and Spencers. It is big. It is full of ladies' things. I have 3 boys with me. It is the Gateway to Hell. No. It IS hell. IT IS H E L L!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I spend eternity trying to find something to spend my voucher on - determined not to just buy lots and lots of those funny shaped crisps that make your lips sting. I was going to buy something to wear. SOMETHING TO WEAR? Yes! I have a voucher for gods' sake for a shop wot sells ladies' clothes. And I am a lady. I WILL find something to wear goddammit! From Marks and Spencers. ? But I am not 85! I am not dead! I will not just buy a big bag. I have big bags. Under my bulging red eyes. And their biggest bags are still not big enough to stuff boys in and do up the zip. So I am going to strangle boys. If I can find them. I can HEAR them. EVERYBODY can HEAR them.
I buy lots of knickers. Black. And a vest and knickers. Black, mostly. And a drapey over-a-swimsuit kind of dress thing. Black. And flip flops. Black - with sequins - black.
'Over a swim-suit'?
On what flapping planet?
Swimming? With children?! You are one brave lady! All hail to the mad brave woman!
ReplyDeleteAnd I want to know where you got your '3-piece-chin-to-mid-calf-practically-an-evening-gown-of-a-cossie' cos I want one. The one I have is - I assume - designed for an olympic swimmer because once it's on (an olympic event in itself) the chances of actually getting it off again without throttling yourself are slim. You are obviously meant to live in it, go to restaurants in it, sleep in it. Oh and it's designed for an olympic swimmer with no pubic hair. Not for women sporting scottie dog sporrans. Nuff said.
p.s. I've been looking at those drapey over swimsuit thingies too. Not sure why. I look at them every year. How much use does one get from such items? Though it might come in handy to wear instead of a t-shirt in bed.
ReplyDeletei have vowed never ever ever to go swimming with the children again. that's how bad it got.
ReplyDeleteit was so bad that once the staff had to close the swimming pool because of THE SCREAMING. (by rights, it should have been mine.)
Glad it's not just me then.
ReplyDeleteLast time I took the kids (about 2 or 3 years ago) was when I was a gym member (yeah that didn't last). Warm pool (with jacuzi - yoh luv those bubbles!) and EMPTY, so the kids could scream and disgrace themselves as much as they liked without me feeling the need to utter a word of disapproval.
The changing rooms were another matter...
I am going again next month.
ReplyDeletemmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
That's the sound of my soul's life support machine having just switched off
Chin-to-toe swimming costumes - OK to scurry out of the changing rooms in whilst dry. Once in water - flares out like over-blown lily pad. When scurrying back to the changing rooms when wet - like wearing cling-film. Weighs a ton in your dripping bag on the way home. All the same I only really care about the initial from cubicle to pool dash so will continue. I have 2 sets of long top, big shorts, even bigger skirt ensembles that I bought from Sports World a couple of years ago when I still had a fine breast-feeding bosom. Now have little squeezed-flat empty frubes tubes have had to tighten the halter-neck bit so it looks more like a noose but it will take another 10 years at least to get me motivated to do swim-suit shopping again. What was so wrong about cubicles-on-wheels that ladies like me would use in Victorian times? Damned fine idea I say.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I should just use that blinkin' over-the-swimmie dress thing I've now got taking up space in me laundry pod.
BTW , BMF - mini-Dyson = brilliant
ReplyDeleteNow THAT's wot I call FUNNY...
ReplyDeleteOMG I remember those days when you are starkers in the changing room and THEN the littlest one calls loudly 'Poo, I need a poo...' NIGHTMARE
The two worst times I had was when I took baby boy on my own and 1. I was so brain dead after birthing etc (even though that was a full 4 months previously) that I wore my handbag into the pool along with my new colour Nokia for work! and 2. I took boy again a few weeks later (see no brain!) and after swimming when changing his swim nappy I found it was half full of really sloshy poo....and then came a big announcement over the airways "Please would everyone leave the pool for emergency cleaning.." Arghhhh.
Swimming is just appalling. We've taken our two about five times in seven years. Hate it myself – I am the wrong shape for staying afloat (pear, with twiglet arms). My son screams when he has to wash his face. My daughter likes to do this weird drowny thing when she sinks like a stone in the shallow end. And Tonbridge pool, with that outsidey, freezy bit? Its unlikely we'll bump into each other in the changing rooms. Which is a bit disappointing, as I really want to see your Victorian cossie. And yes, I meant that in a pervy way.
ReplyDeleteTwiglet arms! That's making me jealous - I have raspberry blancmange arms - we could have a picnic.
ReplyDeleteAnd taking your handbag into the pool with you sounds reasonable. I'm sure there's a lady-stroke that could incorporate that. I can do the no-water-near-make-up-and-hair stroke (and if I did still smoke I could do that too) - but dry-handbag-on-shoulder-stroke would be spectacular. It's just those frotting blinking children things that muck up all our fun.
PS - I really really really really don't do outside pools. They can drown without my input in that bit.