I have a confession to make. Sometimes, I’m jealous of people without kids. Okay, before you get up in arms about me being a horrible mother, just think really hard and I’m sure you will come up with at least once a day when you wonder about how different a situation would be if you didn’t have kids.

Now, I’m not talking about when I’m rushing out the door, hurriedly washing game uniforms with Dawn dish liquid and drying them with my hair dryer or up till midnight icing cupcakes for a school party nobody told me about until 10 pm.

And I don’t mean when eating fast food in the car between the billion activities we have to rush to or fighting with an eight year old about why we cannot stop at WaWa for her lunch and how she needs to make a GD peanut butter and freaking jelly sandwich before we are late.

I’m not talking about bleary eyed me pasting sequins on poster board for a project or cleaning up after an unruly sleepover that has left my cat trembling in a corner. Hell, that’s the stuff that defines me, keeps me on my toes.

No, I’m talking about those precious moments of peace, relaxation. You know, those brief moments in your day when all your laundry and cleaning is done and you have about fifteen minutes before someone is going to ask you “what’s for dinner”? Those moments that kids absolutely ruin every time without fail.

You put on your bathing suit and take your book and a nice glass of sangria to the deck, sighing with contentment. You just might finally get to the end of the book you’ve been reading for a month and a half and find out who the killer is.

And then you realize…the kids are in the pool. Which in itself is not a problem. It’s the fact that they are drawn to you like moths to a flame when they see you in relaxation mode.

“Hi, Mommy!” The little one calls out cheerily. You wave half-heartedly. Now, where were you in this book? The bookmark has mysteriously disappeared….

“Come in the pool, Mommy!” You look up. They are both leaning over the side of the pool, peering at you with their big round eyes.

“Uh, no thanks,” you dismiss them with a wave. You take a sip of the sangria. Damn, that’s good.

“You never go in with us!” They complain.This is true. You always go in after they go to bed. Adult only swim. The reason being…well, you’ll see…

“Puleeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzeeeeeeee?” The begging begins.

You shake your head. “No, I just want to sit here-”

“Pretty please with sugar on top?”

You sigh. They are not going to give in.

“Ok. But in a little bit…”

“When is a little bit?”

“When I finish this book,” you announce triumphantly.

You have not outsmarted them, however.

“No! That’ll take too long!”

Sighing again, you reply, “Fine. This chapter then.”

They swim away and you flip open the book and start to read. Wow, you can’t believe you ever put this book down! It’s so intriguing! It’s drawing you in, word by word….

Until you feel like you are being stared at. And your arm is getting moist.

“What?” You ask in an annoyed tone. The children are now dripping on the deck right next to your chair.

“You promised you’d come in when you finished that chapter,” the little one whines.

“Yeah, you promised,” the bigger one chimes in.

You start to wonder why the hell they need you in the pool when they have each other to annoy.

“Fine,” you retort, marking your place in your book. “But I don’t want to be splashed.” You stare at the little one meaningfully. “Understand?”

She gazes at you with those doe eyes and bobs her wet head up and down.

Grumbling, you climb down the ladder. “It’s too cold,” you complain.

“You’ll get used to it,” they assure you.

Feeling like an ice cube, you take about twenty minutes to get into the pool and immediately lay face down on the raft. Tilting your head to the side, you remind the little one, “I don’t want to be splashed.”

She is ignoring you as she hops in circles around the raft.
“Mommy, watch me! Look at me! See I can touch the-” gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…splash. “The bottom! I can’t touch the bottom with my hand! Look!”

“Uh, huh. Very nice,” you murmur into the plastic raft. It’s nice floating here with the warm sun on your back and the-

Suddenly, you feel splashes on your back. Cold, wet splashes that you SPECIFICALLY requested to NOT have.

“Stop splashing me!” You growl. The kids giggle.

“Sorry!”

“Just don’t let it happen again,” you admonish.

You go back to resting peacefully, enjoying the late afternoon sun; your thoughts drifting off, oblivious to the fact you forgot to apply sunblock…
SPLASH!!!

You don’t know what happened, but all of a sudden, you are floundering in water, trying to right yourself and spit out the water you swallowed.

“What the HELL!?!?” (You actually don’t say hell, but this is a PG blog)
You stare at your assailants, who are attempting to look innocent.

“Sorry, Mommy,” they chime in together.

“I don’t like you two very much,” you manage to sputter as you shake a finger at them. They just laugh.

Grumbling, you drag your soaked body out of the pool and snatch up the nearest towel. Which is wet. You sigh with annoyance and grab your book, despite the children’s protests to come back in the pool.

Teeth chattering, you storm into the house, greeted by your dry and relaxed husband lounging on the couch with the iPad. He glances up from his game.
“How was your swim?” He asks with complete seriousness.

Gritting your teeth, you respond, “Just peachy.” You start up the steps to strip out of the wet bathing suit you didn’t even want in the first place. Maybe you can just stay up in your nice dry room and finish this book. There’s only ten pages left…

“Hey, honey?” You hear hubby call. “What’s for dinner?”