We have a pool in our backyard. It was one of the top priorities for Leigh when we searched for a home 13 years ago. Must have a pool. And oh, he has certainly made good use of it. He’s like a fish. Last year, he swam in it every month of the year. And it’s not even heated.
A couple of years ago, he told me he wanted to build a waterslide. I laughed and said whatevs. But he did it- he bought a slide from gumtree and fitted it with running water. He build steps that wound around a palm tree and a platform at the top with room for half a dozen kids to line up to go down the slide. It was like Adventure World had come to our backyard.
In summer, Leigh and the kids are in the pool every day. Straight out of pyjamas or uniforms and into bathers, they run through the back yard and cannonball into the water. Pure joy.
But not me.
I am 36 years old. But when it comes to the pool, I’m about as fun as my ninety-one year-old grandma.
Yes, I am the Pool Nanna.
The Pool Nanna doesn’t like to get her hair wet. Actually, the Pool Nanna sometimes doesn’t get her upper half wet. The Pool Nanna is a kill joy, who slowly eases herself into the water. She doesn’t like anyone touching her or splashing near her or generally having too much fun in her vicinity. The Pool Nanna has a tanty at anyone who splashes her, even unintentionally.
The Pool Nanna is lame.
Every year I tell my family, “no more Pool Nanna.” I want to be a fun mum who does peg-legs and plays Marco Polo. I want to dive right in like the rest of them.
I put my bathers on. I am going to jump right in. I’m going to let the kids climb all over me and swim through my legs and have a bombie competition.
But then it’s cold… and I don’t want to get my hair wet… and I see a booger floating in the water.
