Hip to Be Square.

We took the kids water sliding this weekend, which seemed like a good idea at the time.
I find myself saying that a lot- it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Things rarely go so well as I envision them.
I envisioned:
- A family of five frolicking in the pool, splashing gently, heads thrown back in laughter. The kids looking very cute in their trendy bathing suits. Later, we would order pizza and the kids would high five us for being such cool parents. After getting the kids settled- which would be a quick and easy process- "Time for bed, Kids!" we would say and they would leap up, "Swell! We're awfully tired!" We would tuck them into their beds, peer at their sleepy faces and pull the covers up around them. Geoff would kiss me on the nose and we would agree that we have the most wonderful kids in the world.

Then Geoff and I would go down to the lounge for a glass of wine, whereabouts we would gaze intently into each others eyes. "I'm so lucky to have you," Geoff would say, and I would, of course, agree with him on that.

What I ended up with:
-A pool crammed to overflowing with kids, who all seemed to be overweight-- this obesity epidemic is for real  and not just something they make up on Dateline for ratings- you know how they have those  "teenage epidemic" segments which sound really scary and sinister and it always ends up to be some obscure thing.
Anyways, these overweight kids all had a strong propensity towards cannon balls. I clung fearfully onto the kids as I stood on the sidelines, wiping heavily chlorinated water from my eyes. Alex continually tried to take his shorts off, insisting that they were WET. Payton wanted to play this game where she lunged at me.
And my husband?
There was a football game on. So he was in the room.
"Well, I don't like going in the water," he said.
"And I do? I'm scared of the water slide and I can't fricking swim."

At ten pm, I was tired and ready for bed. Geoff looked me.
"You're tired? Really? Already? How could you be?" he asked, accusatory.
"Well, it's no picnic in the park getting the three of them ready, packed, changed into bathing suits, going in the water with them." -although in all honesty- Gage is old enough to do everything on his own, so really there are two, but that's not the point.

And then the kids go and tell Geoff that he's cool and I'm not!!
What a slap in the face that was.
I was like- "But he didn't know even what a disco stick was!"
Seriously.
The first time he heard "Love Game" by Lady Gaga he was like "What the hell is a disco stick?!"
Gage and I just looked at each other. "Well, it's a metaphor," I said.
"What do you think it means when they say "I want to take a ride on your disco stick?" Gage asked.
"They can say that on the radio? What the hell?"
Gage and I just looked at each other. "They can say that and a lot worse," we told him.

But I think I am getting uncool.
OK. I've always been uncool, at least a little bit. But I think I'm getting uncooler.
I noticed that I've started saying bogus, hokey things that flaky moms say.
Payton comes up to me. "Mom, Alex did hands on."
"Alex," I stay, sternly. "Did you do a hands on? You know we do hands off. Hands are for helping, not for hurting."

And then there was this morning.
Both of the pop 40 radio stations were playing songs that I couldn't stand to listen to. One of which was a remix of "I've had the time of my life," which started off quite promising. I turned the radio up, a rush of nostalgia coursing through me. And then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, this techno like beat starts up and the whole thing goes to shit. The other ones most predominant, and possibly only lyrics, were "I'm awesome."
You're not awesome, I told the radio, feeling irritated.
So I turned it to the easy listening station, "just to see" I told myself.
When I heard Hewey Louis and the News playing my heart quickened. I started tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. "It's the p-p-power of love," I sang along.
And then I realized. Hewey Louis and the News!!
I turned down the music,  looked around, feeling self conscious.
Ah, screw it, I thought, turning it back up again.
What image, exactly, am I holding onto, or trying to? I thought, driving my fifteen year old minivan with a "Baby on Board" sticker on it and CJWW bumper sticker- from a previous owner, in my defense.
But it is, after all, hip to be square.
That's what Hewey himself says.