Twins: The Loud Mouths at the Pool

This weekend was wonderful. I mean...WONDERFUL. The first weekend we haven't been gone or showing the house or packing non-stop or moving. We just got to relax and unwind and spend time together. David ran his obstacle course marathon Saturday morning and did soooo good! I wish I could have gone to watch him. He finished in the top 25%. He got a medal, t-shirt, and lots of scrapes and bruises. (I think he's proud of them). We've been watching some American Ninja Warrior, so I think that pumped him up.

I braved the waters and took the girls to the pool. I was pretty proud of myself. Our friend Ashley recommended those Puddle Jumper life floatie things. The girls weren't crazy about them at first, but once we all established the fact that there would be no "swimmy poo" without them, they relented and put them on. After about 10 minutes of whining, they clung to me as we ventured out into the open waters. Then, they started pushing me away to swim on their own and were jumping off the sides in no time. Those Puddle Jumpers have been life-altering for us. We took them swimming again that night and again on Sunday. I hope my hair doesn't turn green.

So, you know your kids reach an age where everything they say in public embarrasses you and there's nothing you can do it about it because it's out of their mouths and entering people's ears before you realize what's happening. That happened at the pool this weekend.

We figured out that if you go early in the morning to the pool, little to nobody is there. After awhile, the sunbathers or people who just want to float quietly start showing up, but we like them because they don't splash. There's a small window in the late afternoon when the same thing happens. Around 5-6pm. The party poolers don't show up until after 6pm. So, Saturday late afternoon, we're out there and the only other folks is a group of African American teenagers. Super sweet and very respectful. They were throwing a frisbee and when we got to the pool, they moved down further to keep from splashing the girls. They waved and we all waved back. Everybody was having a good time when Piper Lee decided she wanted to start a game. She decided everybody was a fish. "Mommy fish. Daddy fish. Sissy fish. Kitty fish." I don't know where the kitty fish came from, but he was in the story. I asked what kind of fish she was and she said "tiger fish." Maybe that's related to the kitty fish. I asked what color tiger fish she was and her floaties are pink, so she said "pink fish." I asked what color fish Harper was and she said "yellow fish." David had on blue swim trunks and she said he was a "blue fish" and Mommy was an "orange fish." Just then, one of the teens, who just so happened to have on black swim trunks jumped in and swam under the water toward his friends. Piper Lee, as loud as she could muster, proclaims, "Look, Mommy! Black fish!" David and I looked at each other in horror. Great, now we're the racist new tenants. But, so very thankfully, not a soul heard us because they were talking and laughing and nobody else was at the pool. Sigh of relief. So, no more clothing color games at the pool. Or anywhere.

You know how kids start asking odd and awkward questions and you have to answer them eventually. Well, when the girls were much younger, we'd go through all of our body parts in the bathtub. They loved pointing out their eyes, ears, nose, belly buttons, legs, toes, elbows, etc.. One night, my mom was over at the house helping us and they pointed to their...well, chest...and asked what those were. My great-grandmother, Mamaw Esther, always called them "buckies," so when Mom was a kid, she called them buckies as well. Mom said, "Those are your buckies." And we've tried to keep the bucky talk to a minimum, but I mean, they're there, what can you do about it, y'know? So, Sunday, we're out at the pool again and a couple of sunbathers come and set up their towels in the chairs. One had on a shimmery pink bikini. It was very sparkly. So, what's Harper to do except look at her and say, "Wow! Sparkle buckies!" I quickly steer her away from gawking at the girl, who was super-engrossed in Fifty Shades of Grey, but Harper kept exclaiming, "BUCKIES!" I dunked her under. No, jay kay, jay kay...but I did change the subject to, "Let's go tickle Daddy," which they love to do. So, we stalked him and Piper and that took her mind off the sparkly bikini. And I mean, who at the pool would know what buckies were, but it's not like I could make a scene and be like, "Harper, we don't talk about that," because somebody would realize we were discussing something private and Harper was yelling at pointing directly at the girl. So, whenever that happens, I always try to play it off like, "What are you saying? I can't understand your words, little child."

I dunno. We've got some Tact 101 lessons coming up soon, though.