fish outta water

tomorrow i am taking my little peanut to the local YMCA for his mommy & me swim class (2nd one ever). last week, was our first class. in under 45 minutes (not to mention the weeks leading up to it) i dealt with every possible insecurity a woman (and mother) works hard to avoid:

2 weeks prior: do i wear a bikini? a one-piece? do i have to shave my legs? worse yet, my dredded (not dreaded) bikini line? should probably be a one-piece otherwise i will look like a whorish mom strutting her shit at the local Y...her ill manicured shit at that. one piece it is.

1 week prior: do i buy a speedo or a basic black suit? speedo makes it seem like i am a swim team poser. faker. basic black it is. old navy, hear i come. try it on at home for the first time. hubby's reaction: [chirp, chirp]. even my age old excuse "i have a long torso" isn't making up for the horizontal butt-crack fat fold created by the elastic digging into my squishy tooshi. too late to get the speedo.

that morning: YMCA dictates anyone who enters pool must have shower cap. great. when call to inquire about requirement learn that they sell them: one size fits all. how is that possible?

20 minutes before class: arrive later than had wanted. realize i am filled with anxiety. arrive at counter to check-in. holding lil peanut in one arm (squirming like an eel) and digging into bottomless pit of a diaper bag for Y badges [WHY DO THEY MAKE THESE BAGS SO FUCKING COMPLICATED?] stab my finger on car key. find badges. then i realize, i have no idea where the locker room is, the pool, etc...(first time to YMCA as a member). in fact i know nothing (the carpicorn in me is usually well-planned -- i feel like I am swirling). lil peanut has decided now is the time to get his raisins. *right* now. line starting to form behind us. "ok and swim caps are mandatory?" "can i get them here?" "oh the shower caps are 6 bucks?" "I have no cash, can you take credit card"? line gets longer. lil peanut screaming for raisins louder. sign receipt [god i am such an asshole]. begin to sense my bathing suit wedge is now far up my ass and not suprisingly, my bits. sweet. feel sweat formin' in between cleavage. "RAISINS!!!". perfect. "where is the locker room?" i am told to use the family locker room with barely audible directions (that i wasn't really listening too anyway),.an eye roll and a brisk wave off (love that) send me on my way.

17 minutes before class: head down to family locker room. feeling deflated......no wait, that door says "Women's Room"...was it the 3rd right or left? up stairs or down them?? RAAAAAIIIIISSSSAAAAANNNSS! "ok, baby, almost there, you will get to swim like fishies and walrus do, alllllmost there baby" [i am sooo not loving motherhood right now]. decide to enter into "Women's Room" after all. turns out it is the family locker room. what the ef? start to get pissed assuming it's cause only moms care for their kids. probably wrong but stay quietly belligerent.

12 minutes before class: look for a place to set lil peanut down and put stuff in locker. all have locks but a few [damn it, why didn't i think to bring a lock? shit.] no time to fret. take my chances. lil peanut is now more amused with the mirrors and his own reflection than raisins [should i be worried about the new found narcissism my child has been expressing of late? naw. no patience to think about it, cause would mean less time thinking about me]. strip to suit. pale as a priest's ass...bordering on jaundice. locker lights. suicidal. [wait, where is kid?]. "boobies!", i hear shouted a couple rows down. my 22 month old son pointing and giggling at a woman's exposed breasts. am i humiliated or proud? will reflect on that later, no time now. rip him away apologizing meekly. shove everything in locker and focus on getting lil peanut ready. suit on, cap on..[gasp...no baby sandals!]. ew. staph infections. ew. [gasp...no flip flops for me!]. look around. everyone else, children included in this family locker room have flip flops. i am a HORRIFIC mother. there it's settled. pressure's off i guess. now i will have to run to the pool so as to avoid the 'hot zone, level 4 breach' looks. ok, so no sandals, but suit, check; cap, check. towel?. towel??? FUUUUCK!! brought no towels. wait. i am at a gym. they provide them! woooo hooooo! ask a woman (booby woman? not sure...bad form kdawggyO], "where can i get towels?". "have to bring your own.," she replies. no light hearted humor can get me out of this "hey i am THE asshole" moment. great staph and pneumonia. well pressure was already off, so may as well get a move on.

6 minutes before class: final touch -- place swim cap on head. abominable. time to head home. i'm callin' "uncle". swimming is overrated. let's get you some of those raisins after all kiddo......[lil peanut begins singing "WAAAATTTERRR" in a gleeful sing-sing voice. aaaaw shit]. pick wedge from out of ass and bits, turn to pool door with confidence sans flip flops, and promptly enter...sauna. SHIT! Where is the GOT damned door to the pool??? oh right, the one with no sign. naturally. enter pool and glare of surgical lighting. want_to_die.

2 minutes before class: ease into water with lil peanut and other moms/dads. they all have towels and flip flops. they all look remarkably well suited for swim caps. figures. as lil peanut feels the water wash over him he is exuberant. "WAAAAAAAATER!!!!", he cries with pure, unadulterated happiness. he is in heaven.....grinning ear to ear. i am in love. i am always in love.... can't wait for next week [this time with towels and baby sandals]. :)...and did i mention how amazingly adorable he looks in his one size fits all swim cap? pretty damn adorable.