I am a champion relaxer.

Do you watch Modern Family? Joe and I are like Mitchell and Cameron in Hawaii. Mitchell is the Energizer Bunny of relaxation. He can’t do it. “Let’s go to the Lavender Ranch.” “No, thank you. I’ll be by the pool with a drink with the kids who are not at all interested in Lavender.” Finally, at the end of the episode, Cameron asks Mitchell to sit down in a chair, while a waitress brings him a yummy drink and someone rubs his feet. He relaxes.

It’s not so easy in my house. Even the promise of a fruity drink and a foot rub won’t instill the beauty of doing doing nothing in Joe. How often are we actually able to just sit and do nothing? I truly can not comprehend the inability to enjoy peace and quiet.

Unless the girls are climbing the walls, I very rarely feel like I need to be constantly busy or on the go.

We recently joined a local pool club. One of the greatest inventions of late is the kiddie wading pool. I sit on a lounge chair, the girls play in the pool. That’s it for activity. Do I feel the need to get in and splash with them? No. If they ask, I will. If I get hot, I will. Otherwise, I sit and relax in the sun. I haven’t quite mastered the art of reading a book or magazine while they play, but I’ll get there. I’m working on it.

Sunday, the 4th of July, we went to the pool as a family. Picture it – 3 pools (one is no deeper than a bathtub), ample lounge chairs, perfect sunshine. After 30 or so minutes, I could see Joe looking around.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“This.”

5 minutes later, “Do you want to do something?”

“Yes, this.”

10 minutes later, “The girls are probably getting antsy, you want to think about getting out of here?”

“What makes you think they are getting antsy? Their ear to ear smiles? Their constant laughter? Their refusal to get out of the pool because they say they are having too much fun?”

“I have stuff to do ay home.”

“Don’t even fucking say vacuuming.”

Silence.

“You can go and pick us up later.”

“No, but I just can’t sit here.”

“Well, we can. Come back and get us when you’re done being crazy.”

sigh…eye roll…finger tapping

We left the pool.

In his defense, we went back the next day, and he brought a book. He actually read some of it. I think he may have even enjoyed it. Most importantly, it was at least 40 minutes before he started getting the shakes and asking to go home.

Sunday started as any other weekend day. Joe and I couldn’t agree on what to do. He wanted to do something wild and crazy, like go to the beach, or go have some fun outside, while I wanted to stay inside, stay cool and nap.

He offered, “Why don’t I take the girls and you can have some time to yourself?”

Perfect…and too good to be true, as it was followed by, “Though it would be really nice to go together.”

Guilt trip. I refused to let it work.

“I don’t even own a bathing suit.” Can’t argue with that logic!

“So, go buy one. We’ll wait and go when you get back.” Crap.

(insert long sigh combined with eye roll) “Fine.”

He won. Now, our decision was between beach or pool. Either way, this sucks for me. I wanted the pool. Both girls wanted the pool. Somehow, we decided on the beach.

I haven’t worn a bathing suit in 2 years. I went to the store. After scouring the racks of teenie bopper bikinis that my two-kid belly and too-many-cookies ass could not handle and one-pieces that my mom is too young for, I found one that was *ok.* By ok, I mean it showed no stomach and there was a matching pair of swim shorts.

Off to the dressing room.

After trying on the suit, I cried, curled up in the fetal postion on the floor, and sucked my thumb for a few minutes. I decided that was pretty gross and got up, returning the ridiculously tight bathing suit to the rack and getting the next size up, much to my dismay. I bought the stupid suit and went home. I walked in the door, about to cry after my dressing room disaster. Joe gave me a big hug and said he thinks I look great. What a guy…

After a quick wash of the suit, and application of my new SPF 100 sunblock, I grabbed my beach bag, and we were ready to go. I walked in the kitchen, and Joe almost fell to the floor with laughter.

“Seriously. What the fuck is so funny? I’m already in laugh/cry mode today. Don’t make it worse.”

“HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”***
(*** he would like me to point out that he was laughing at my attitude and disposition. Not at me. I don’t believe him. See his next comment.)

“I’m not going. Fuck off.”

“No…I’m sorry. I can’t help it. You look like Powder wearing his grandmother’s bathing suit.”

“I’m really not going.”

Then M chimed in, “You have to go.” Abs piped in, “Mama!!! You go beach!!”

Fine. Just fine, but I am NOT going to be happy about it.

I put on my dress (at which point, Joe said I looked nice. In my head to toe cover up.) I grumbled to the car.

As we pulled into the beach, the sun went behind the clouds and then rained on us 30 minutes after we arrived. We left and came home.

Where it was sunny and had not rained.

I’m pretty lucky. Joe vacuums. We have a lots of stairs and lots of carpet, and he takes care of it on Saturday mornings. My job is to hang with the girls and keep them occupied and out of his way. Let it be clear…I’ve offered to do this repeatedly, as long as he hangs with the girls for the time it takes, but he says he likes to do it himself.

Our Saturdays go something like this:

7am – I wake up with the girls. Joe sleeps in.

9am – Joe gets up, gets coffee and breakfast.

10am – “Is it cool if I vacuum now?” “Sure” {admittedly, this is often met with an eye roll as I’m usually about to step in the shower or in the middle of doing something that would make vacuuming inconvenient at that time.} We stay downstairs and move when necessary.

10:30am – I still have not heard the vacuum, but I do hear the click of the xbox controller.

11:00am – Joe gets out the vacuum. He asks me where the stair attachment is, though I have never used this vacuum, nor touched the stair attachment.

11:30am – I hear the vacuum start.

11:45am – The vacuum stops. Joe heads down to the garage. “What are you doing?” “Getting the charcoal out for the grill tonight.” Ok.

11:50am – He’s still downstairs. “Are you ok down there.” “Yes, just going through my Winter clothes.” The Winter clothes that are put away to go to storage? The ones you already went through? Yes. Those.

12:00 – He heads upstairs. Vacuum starts again.

12:05pm – The vacuum stops. I hear his guitar. “Can the girls run around up there so I can shower?” “No, I have to finish up, and I can’t really watch them. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

12:50pm – it’s weirdly silent. “What are you doing?” “Uploading pictures.” Makes perfect sense. Picture uploading and vacuuming go hand in hand.

1:30pm – The vacuum starts up.

1:45pm – Vacuuming finished.

1:46pm – Joe asks, “Are you ready to go do something?” “No, I need to shower and get ready.” “You couldn’t do that while I was vacuuming?”