Ready for Water

“Friday Playdate at Our House! Fun in the Sun!” I’d advertised in the email I’d sent out to the ten mommies and sixteen kids we usually hang out with on Friday afternoons. I was confident about getting the backyard fully upgraded in time for the gathering, because the box that our new pool came in said “Ready For Water in Just 30 Minutes!”

Warning: The following paragraph is intended for mature audiences only. Small children or anyone offended by excessive profanity from a stressed-out and fed-up middle-aged mother should stop reading here and skip ahead:

Ready for water in 30 minutes MY ASS! It took me 45 fucking minutes just to tear all the goddamn PLASTIC off all the fucking pieces of the damn thing. Then I had to LEVEL THE GROUND, a task which according to the instructions is VERY IMPORTANT, which was a huge, fat pain in my ass. Then I had to drag the big ass box from the car all the way across the backyard ALL BY MY FUCKING SELF (husband mysteriously disappeared in a poof). Then there was much confusion about inserting Part A into Part B and which was the intake hose and the outtake hose. And all the while, Jude followed me around, stepping on my feet asking “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” “Can I help?” But he’s, you know, SIX, and not very helpful in any way but the moral support kind of way, and I finally cracked and yelled “You can help me, little boy, by stopping asking me if you can help ME!!!!!!!!!!!” But I couldn’t really let out a good satisfying string of expletives because Jude was there, and I found myself having to “spell curse”. “I HATE you, you stupid M-O-T-H-E-R-F-U-C-K-I-N-G hose clamp!!!” The whole “Ready for Water” thing ended up taking me a full fucking 2½ hours, and my whole body was left bruised and battered and ready for a Vicodin or at least a margarita.

(Tangential Parenthetical - I am reminded of my mother, who was normally very much a lady, and never cursed. Once or twice a year she was forced by financial restraints to sew something for me – a prom dress or a costume for some school play. She was a decent seamstress, but unfortunately not a great seamstress, and she HATED doing it (and was probably silently angry with Daddy that he didn’t make enough money for her to simply BUY me a decent prom dress). She would close herself up in her little sewing/craft room. I could hear her working through the door. The sound of the sewing machine VRRRRRMMMM. Then the machine would stop and I’d hear her say “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Then there would be the sound of her ripping a seam out and starting again. VRRRRMMMM. Silent beat. "Shit, shit, shit." Rip, rip, rip. It was the only time I heard her cuss, and I thought it was hysterical. I’d actually crouch outside the little room and giggle. Which was perhaps a wee bit cruel of me.)

Luckily, in the middle of this whole craziness, I received rescue from an unlikely source. Earlier in the morning, Jimmy had come up to me with a look on his face that I recognized. It was that I-really-screwed-up-and-she’s-gonna-be-pissed-but-maybe-if-I-act-casual-and-nonchalant-she-won’t-notice-how-much-I-screwed-up look. “Honey,” he began, “I forgot to run something by you.” “What?” I ask, concerned. “Well, Robert’s coming in town from New York and needs a place to crash for a couple of nights. You think that would be cool?”

(Explanatory Parenthetical - Robert is one of Jimmy’s oldest and best friends. And the two of them together are TROUBLE. The last time Robert needed a “place to crash for a few days” he stayed with us for TWO MONTHS. It was two months of mayhem and debauchery. They were both drunk the whole time, and obsessively read Shakespeare and David Rabe aloud to each other. Now granted, this was before Jude was born, when they were both younger and more prone to mayhem and debauchery, but still, this should have given me pause…)

“Yeah, sure. Okay.” I answer immediately. Because instead of thinking “Oh Lord, what are we going to do with a middle-age, recently divorced actor sleeping on our sofa for an undetermined period of time?” I was thinking “Oh good. Maybe Robert will entertain Jude for a while.”. “When’s he coming?” I ask. “Uh…now. He’s at the airport.”

So “Uncle Robert” showed up in the middle of this whole “Ready for Water” thing, and heroically took Jude to the “House of Pies” for a hot dog and fries, thus enabling me to actually curse out loud while finishing up the pool assembly. Transforming this…

 

into this…

 

And JUST IN TIME for the Mommies! Everybody rolled in. Sangria and guacamole for the moms, hot dogs and juice for the kids. Swimsuits, floaties, water squirters! Everything one would need for SUMMER FUN! Except…

Sun. Because despite all my hard work and determination, it’s June Gloom time in Los Angeles, and it never got higher than a frigid 70 degrees. But I had worked too damned hard to give in to Mother Nature. Oh no. I refused to be daunted. That’s when we discovered that our backyard came equipped with a nifty built-in feature.

A kid warmer…

 

So as soon as one of the children started to turn blue, we’d wrap them up in a towel and shout “Stand in the dryer vent, stand in dryer vent!"

Never doubt the ingenuity of a mother who spent the whole day sweating and spell-cursing when the opportunity for sangria and adult conversation is at stake.

Comments

[The Bug]

I was laughing out loud the whole time I read this - sorry to find humor in your pain, but we're moving so we're buying shelves & things with SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED & my husband has been using similar language.

You'll really enjoy all of your hard work on those hot California days though!

[stilltheblank@ol.com]

I can totally relate to all of this. We have a similiar pool, with the same frustration. The dryer vent is brilliant!

[Fiddledeedee]

I can totally see your pearl wearing mother losing it over the sewing machine. You paint a wonderful picture.

As far as the pool escapade, well, let's just say I wish I had been there.

Hiding behind the wall snickering.

Because I'm that kind of friend. :)

[Niki]

I proud of you, only a woman like you could handle being married to such an extreme non-handyman. Mary was impressed that you've turned your backyard into a kid wonderland, where everyone wants to come hang out. She didn't mention anything about cursing or sangria though. Good job!

[Mommy Lisa]

Hmmmm guacamole and sangria? Can I come this summer??? I promise I won't stay for two months.