It was a hot Saturday afternoon at our local pool when the kids started asking me to jump in.
“Come on, Mom! Please? You never come in!” My kids yelled from the water, three heads bobbing like buoys in the deep end.
I ran my hand through my hair, blow-dried and shiny, and sighed.
We’d come to the pool after a summer baseball game, squeezing it into a day jammed tight with activities and plans. Jumping in the water would ruin my hair, adding twenty minutes of blow-dry time I didn’t have in our schedule.
And so I started to shake my head. “Sorry guys, not today,” I said.
Together, my kids groaned. “That’s what you said last week,” said my oldest.
I frowned. “But last week I came in! Remember?”
This time, my youngest called me out. “You came in, but not all the way. You didn’t play with us. You just watched, remember?”
I nodded, knowing she was right. I had been present, but I hadn’t participated, not in the way my kids craved. A pit formed in my stomach as three sets of disappointed eyes stared up at me.
Sure, the kids would be fine if I played with them poolside. There’d been plenty of times we’d all had fun with me throwing footballs as they jumped off the diving boards, giving scores as they practiced flips and cannon balls.
And yet, in my heart, I also knew that by not jumping in, I was declining an important invitation – not just to have fun with my kids, but to be a part of their world, where sunscreen is slippery and drenched in summer fun. They were memories I wanted to be a part of, memories I didn’t want to miss.
So I did what I usually reserved for vacations or days without plans. I got in the pool. I jumped off the diving board. I swam laps with my kids. I even attempted “dolphin dives” and “bunny hops” across the shallow end.
Together we threw balls, showed off our best backstroke, and even played a round of “Pigeon,” our favorite family pool game.
By the time I got out an hour later, my hair was tangled straw, water was trapped in both ears, and my contacts were glued to my corneas. And yet, I found I couldn’t stop laughing. Instead of just another stop on our busy weekend schedule, the pool had been a lot of fun. Real fun. The type of fun my adult life doesn’t often allow for.
We talked about our pool time all the way home. And once back, instead of wasting time on a blow-dry, I let my hair air-dry. No one at our next event seemed to care or notice that my hair was a little frizzier. In fact, I could barely see the difference myself.
And so the next time we found ourselves at the pool, I jumped in again. Just like I did the time after that. I kept jumping in until saying ‘yes’ became more common than saying ‘no.’ Until I decided my blow dryer could also use a summer vacation, reserved solely for the most important occasions. Which I quickly realized were far and few between.
As moms, we often are told to “wear the bathing suit,” or “get in the picture,” to ensure we don’t let self-consciousness rob us of experiences with our kids. But even with this advice, I found I’d still been missing a part of the picture. It wasn’t just about confidence or being present, but about allowing myself to be an active participant in my kids’ summer fun.
Because let’s face it, it’s always more fun to play the game than to watch from the sidelines, which is why my challenge to you is to savor these last few weeks of summer by putting yourself in the game. Jump in the pool. Play that game of wiffleball. Ruin your clean outfit or blow-dried hair. And make those memories that will keep you all rolling with laughter years later.
Because, like childhood, summer is short. And let me tell you, jumping off a diving board is fun. Way more fun than drying your hair.
