Garrett remembers painstakingly waiting for Matthew to finish his bottle so we could go to the pool. It was the summer that the oldest turned three. The younger one was only about three months old when we got our membership to the enormous facility near our house. I'd feed the baby a bottle while Garrett ate lunch and then we'd jump in the car with all manner of pool accoutrements. When we got there, I would lug the baby, the toddler, the stroller, the towels, the wrap, the snacks, the water wings, the noodle, the swim diapers, and anything else we might need into the swimming area. Inevitably, Matthew would fall asleep and I'd spend my time dragging Garrett out of the kiddie area and running up the small, grassy hill to check on him and then running back down because, obviously, Garrett wanted to be in the water. We'd usually be there less than an hour when Garrett got cold or tired or cranky and we'd head home.
I miss my babies. I mean, I really, deeply, miss them. I long to snuggle those teeny bodies. I wish I could smell their baby heads just once more. I am astounded by the fact that time actually is capable of flying. I'd give a lot just to be able to hold them once more--as small little bundles.
But I am loving the pool with my men. Today, after Garrett's swimming lesson, we stayed to play. I took in both children and one bag. That's it. No stroller needed. No swim diapers needed. (Can I get an Amen?)
We ate lunch and then played in the water. They jumped. They kicked. They splashed. Garrett slid down the slides. We even soaked up some sun. They're big enough to take pleasure in just lying under the sun! (For a few minutes anyway.) We wrapped up the day by watching Garrett, who can swim completely on his own now, jump off the diving board repeatedly, until he perfected his cannon ball.
When I checked my clock, just before we left, I realized we'd already been there for almost two hours. So again, time really does fly. Especially when you're not contending with rubber pants.