Just reaffirming you're glad you're not me.

Is it wrong that I've been letting Gracie think a Mylar balloon is really a pet?  For the past two weeks?  And she's given it a name?  And it goes to bed with her?

Yeah, probably.

We went to the dollar store and she immediately saw this balloon and said, "MINE PET!"  After realizing negotiating with a two year old was not within my grasp, I settled on buying some balloons and got out of the store before she found something far worse to latch onto.

I will love it and stroke it and call it George. 

I had to get two more balloons because, really, it was the path of least resistance.  The last thing I wanted to do was to haul my ass up back there, two hours later, with all three kids.  There was no way I was going to live through that.

I got three balloons and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

And to totally change gears, our daily mecca to the pool has come to an end.  I made the rouge decision to take the kids on a play date at another neighborhood pool.  I think that was my first mistake.

The thing is, when someone asks if Alex wants a play date, nothing short of a prison sentence is going to stop me from going.  He gets so few invites that when someone does show an interest, we're banging on their door before the phone even gets hung up.

He was so excited he couldn't sleep the night before and I think he burned more energy flapping than he did swimming.  It made me smile to see him that excited.

See?  We had to go.

So we went.  We will never be invited back.  Ever.  Gracie made sure of that.  Within the first five seconds of getting there, Gracie saw the water and just waked right on over to the edge of the pool.  I saw her and started screaming at her, "Gracie, get away from that water.  You don't have you floaties!  You get back here ri-----"

And she went in.  Head first.  In the deep end.

I stood there for a minute and I think I thought, "Did that really just happen?"  I knew it did but it wasn't computing.  And then it did.  It clicked.

"OH FUCK.  OH FUCK.  GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

I could see her floating, face down, slowly going down to the bottom.  She wasn't fighting, wasn't swimming, nothing.  Just sinking.

Her hair was wisping, beautiful black wisps, in the current.  I remember thinking how beautiful that was.  I will never get that image out of my head, ever.

I dove in, grabbed her arm and pulled her out.  She was so heavy.  I was heavy, I still had my clothes and shoes on.  It was all so heavy.

The other mom was at the edge of the pool and grabbed her as I thew her out of the water.  There was a pause, the single most longest pause in my entire life, and she coughed.  She coughed up water and puked and then without missing a beat said something like, "Whew!  Dat's wet!!!"

Mine watering cans.....

Totally taking a whiz...

And that is how you lose ten years off your life, your hair turns white and you never go to the pool again.

As it turned out, the kids had a great time.  They invented a new game called, 'fake drowning.'  We stayed for an hour, that's time limit before it all goes pear shaped, and we went back home.

I'm pretty sure we won't be invited back though.  Something about one of you kids having a near drowning experience is a bit of a turn off.  And honestly, I can't say I'd blame them.

Small blessings though, Alex just looked at her when it was all over and said, "Well, it's a good thing you're not dead.  That would have really interfered with my play date."

Ya think???