I actually have friends with more than one child who go to the swimming pool or lake every day. Girlfriends who love this time of year because they seem to feel relaxed or holiday feelings or nostalgic childhood memories between towels smeared with ketchup, wasp stings, armbands being blown up, young people's ass bombs and 36 degrees in the shade. I can understand zero. The associations just mentioned, which I associate with public bodies of water, also come from me.
Days when the thermometer rises above 30 degrees, mean even more stress for me than a normal afternoon with an almost five year old and a nine month old baby. Because the usual activities are canceled at the current temperatures and I stay with the children on the only cool floor, our ground floor , with the patio doors closed and the curtains drawn. When a friend then asks whether we want to spontaneously join her party at the bathing lake or in the swimming pool, I panic.'My first thought: I have to shave if I want to go out in public in a bikini.'
Panic, because at this moment an almost unmanageable mountain of preparations is piling up in front of me before we even touch the turnstile at the entrance to the seaside resort. My first thought: I have to shave if I want to go out in public in a bikini. In everyday life, I'm happy if I can stand under a cold shower for two minutes in the evening during the breastfeeding break. Bikini zone shaving? Only according to plan and only if I children can park with my husband. Doing personal hygiene while the baby almost hits the bathroom tiles while practicing crawling means pure tension.
The packing of the beach bag would follow, for which I have to collect the individual parts from all over the house. Which drying rack still hangs your swimming trunks? Have the bath towels been put back in the top cupboard? I'd have to choose between carrying baby up three floors in my arms and parking baby in the playpen screaming while I scoot around. However, a towel and swimwear would only be the basic equipment.
The following are missing: armbands, sun hats, UV shirts, children's sunscreen, bathing shoes, sand toys, changing sets, wet wipes, an emergency kit including plasters, disinfectant spray and cooling gel for insect bites. And don't forget all your scuba gear to avoid a bigger drama , if it is desired exactly then.
But now the worst would come: the food. I can't believe every time moms show up with picnics packed in coolers that top my full weekly menu. They open containers with chopped fruit salad, vegetable sticks, plus homemade dips, a baguette, couscous salad, would anyone like a piece of banana bread? This happened to be left over from yesterday.
I usually have fries, that's it. But when other people conjure up one jar after another that my kids pounce on, I get a guilty conscience and suppose I should prepare a few presentable snacks too. But shopping, cutting, packing, getting cold packs out of the Kehler – really now?Our author......became a mother in her early 30s. And still can't get over the fact that her old, beautiful life has since ended. She is furious that parents never had the courage to share what it really means to have a child. For this reason, she puts her finger in the wound every two weeks – and reports relentlessly. And because she knows that mothers can get very toxic when it comes to their most sacred things, she prefers to remain anonymous. Her son's daily storms of indignation are enough for her.
Let's imagine that I had already taken all this on myself and that I was standing in the hallway shaved with a packed bath and cooler bag and with two children dressed. Now follows: all the luggage alone plus pram plus toddler plus baby in Auto ship. Let's say everything is loaded, the kids are buckled up and I'm drenched in sweat at the wheel.'The bathing lake life (...) looks like this to me: Loud screaming, yelling, crying because the five-year-old doesn't want to be put on lotion.'
Let's say the baby stopped crying after I parked him in the open, hot car to get all the luggage one by one and put them in the trunk. And let's also say that we arrive at the bathing lake car park, have to park very far outside and I made it to the entrance with two children, a bathing bag on my back and a cooler bag that was too heavy, dangling from the stroller at 36 degrees.
It follows? The bathing lake life. And it looks like this to me: Loud screaming, yelling, crying because the five-year-old doesn't want to be put on lotion. Now it's in the eyes, it burns, run away, run after. Blow up armbands although I would like to put my feet up to stabilize my circulation. Keep an eye on the non-swimmer child, tame the nursing baby , which constantly wants to get at my chest and rips off my bikini, chases away wasps, negotiates about necessary headgear and in between many threats to leave the lake, if this and that and that.
Of course the big kid falls asleep after two seconds on the way back. That means he won't sleep before 10 p.m. A relaxing evening after a hard day at the beach would have been done with it.
My chosen alternative at the announced 38 degrees? We're spending the third day in a row in the living room today. The son is bored and begins to provoke, culminating in 'I hate' sentence beginnings. Of course he hates me very much. Between Screaming, Baby Crying, and Being Perpetually Annoyed, I Approve an Episode of 'Paw Patrol' and then regret it all the more because his mood about the end of the episode determines the rest of the afternoon.
The evening? It's so unbearably hot in our attic bedroom that the five-year-old tosses and turns for two hours, gradually throwing off his pajamas with big announcements, noisily raising and drinking the water bottle 20 times, spilling some and finally having a reason to get up. Then he has to go to the bathroom again and lets me know every two minutes that he can't sleep.'Since I've had two children, I've unfortunately had to say: I hate summer.'
Meanwhile, the pillow I'm lying on with the baby is dripping with sweat from her head. So breastfeed even more, she demands it every ten minutes. I open my laptop at 9:48 p.m. to write this text. Between two sleeping children who will be so tired tomorrow and therefore in a bad mood that the next afternoon will be gone again. Since I have two children, I unfortunately have to say: I hate summer.Source: watson.de