Spring Brakes

When you're a parent, you do things for your children.

Right?

Whatever they need, you do. You're a parent.

Me, I'm a mom.

I would lay down my life for my children.

You know I would.

There is no sacrifice too large for my children.

I have been pregnant. I've watched my feet swell beyond my own recognition. I went months without eating any salt. (Oh, yeah? Try it for, like, 4 hours.) I endured hours of labor only to submit to a c-section in the end.

There were sleepless nights of rocking and lullabying, and kicking and flailing (no, not me).

There are the adventures with food. Things they like, things they don't and whatever ramifications thereafter flow.

I don't think I have to mention the soiled diapers . . . and pants . . . and socks . . .

There are the nightmares.

And the first days of school.

The fevers. The scrapes and bumps. The stitches.

Hours spent watching shows starring purple dinosaurs, green grouches, and animated rabbits

And round-the-clock, on-demand psycho-therapy regarding the delusion of monsters existing under the bed.

But all those pale in comparison to what I am being asked to endure today.

Today.

ugh.

This may be it for me today.

As you may know, it is spring break in our little kingdom. We did the usual things, Easter, picnic, playground, shopping, cleaning rooms (yes, it's not all beer & skittles, even when you're 9).

But we planned something special for these last few days of spring break.

A water park.

Not just any waterpark.

Great Wolf Lodge.

If you're not familiar with Great Wolf Lodge, allow me to elaborate:

Indoor waterpark.

Six story water slide.

Wave pools.

Splash mountain.

And much, much more.

That's right? Who needs sleep? Who needs food? When you can just swim and splash and swim some more.

I watched with horror as my son pulled a robe that caused a pail to overturn and dump water onto an unsuspecting boy on the level beneath him.

I sat forward, ready to jump up and save my son from the certain pummeling he richly deserved.

But the unsuspecting victim just wiped the water from his eyes, laughed, and went on his way.

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??

Surely, they are not my kind.

This is my kind:

I hate the water.

I don't like water on my face.

I get mad.

My maiden voyage on an innertube in the wading pool ended with me grabbing for my husband and screaming (between gulps of water), "Help me! I hate you! HELP ME!!"

I got water up my nose and, obviously, on my face.

(Think back to yesterday. Remember that weird little moment in the afternoon when the sun was suddenly covered over by a black cloud and a strong, mean breeze blew through? Yah, t'was me.)

I have a new strategy today.

You. See how you're protecting me? Here I sit with my cherry mocha from the in-house Starbucks, still in my pajamas.

Nice and dry.

The kids and my husband have already gone ahead to the waterpark.

Interestingly, no one implored me quite as passionately to join them this morning.

Too bad.