Pool Fool

I had planned on posting tonight about my daughter's t-ball experience.  Her last game was this evening, and I took a few pictures and had a few ideas started up.  But it was hot, it stormed in the middle of it, and basically, it was a fairly miserable experience for me (fortunately, not for anyone else, but I'm going to be self-absorbed and call it NO FUN AT ALL, at least right now).  I'm sure I'll feel better about it tomorrow and I can write about it then, but tonight I'm still feeling a little bitter at the elements, so I'm going to save my sanity and pretend it didn't happen.

So, instead, I'll post about my husband.  At his request.

Remember, as you read this, he suggested I write about it.

And I'm all too happy to comply.

Yesterday evening after I got home from work and collapsed on the couch, he made a little suggestion:  that we inflate the blow-up-pool my parents got the kids last summer, put water in it, and let them splash around a little bit.  Since it's been in the 90's for the past several days, this sounded like a pretty good idea.

Note to self:  at 35+ weeks of pregnancy, in 90+ degree weather with 70-ish percent humidity, nothing involving toddlers and playing and outside is a good idea.  They are 100% guaranteed to drive me crazy for something, even if they're technically not doing anything wrong.  But I digress.

I agreed that we should take them out, so he got the electric air pump and went out to blow up the pool while I rounded up the kids and got them ready.  After I stuffed the Birdie into a swimsuit two sizes too small for her (but it's Princess!  Ooh, Princess!  Must wear the PRINCESS swimsuit!  Even if it hasn't fit for OVER A YEAR!) and suited the Imp up in a swim diaper from a package that was handed down from my cousin's daughter who turned FIVE a few months ago (thanks, Tabitha!), we headed back into the living room.

A glance out on the deck told me some not-so-good news, the very news, in fact, that I had been dreading:  although Craig had been trying to inflate the pool for a good five or ten minutes, it appeared that no progress had been made.  And I don't mean "very little" progress.  I mean NO progress.  The pool mostly resembled a blue tarp that had been left outside for months, gathering rainwater and leaves and creating a habitat for mosquitos.

And the only thing I could think was Oh no oh no oh nononononono.  Because I had two toddlers in swimsuits, convinced they were going to get to swim.   Please please PLEASE Lord, do not let there be a hole in the pool.  Please please please!

I told the kids "Don't get into anything, Mommy is going outside with Daddy for a minute but I'll be right back," which is, of course, a carte blanche for them to start tearing up everything in sight, but I didn't care - if that pool wouldn't inflate, I'd have much worse trouble on my hands than toys and mess all over the place.

I'd have a disappointed three-year-old.  And there is no greater force on this earth than a 3-year-old who has been told she gets to do something fun and exciting, only to be told a few minutes later that she isn't going to get to, after all.

"So, it's not inflating," I remarked to my husband, much more casually than I felt.

He tugged at it in a few places and looked puzzled.  "It doesn't look like it, but I can't figure out why."

I thought, "I KNOW WHY!  IT'S BECAUSE THERE'S A HOLE IN IT!  A HOLE A HOLE A HOLE AND NOW THE BIRDIE IS GOING TO THROW A FIT AND THE WORLD IS GOING TO END AND MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE!"

But I didn't say that.  Because the weird thing was, it didn't look like any air was going into the pool at all.  Usually when you try to inflate something with a hole, it will at least work a little bit before starting to seep back out.  But this wasn't even pretending to inflate.

So I grabbed the side of the pool, and started looking for the little air hole - you know, the kind you actually blow into - because Craig was trying to inflate it through a big one, made for the electric pump, and I thought, I don't know, maybe something was wrong with it, even though I couldn't imagine what.  And as I was turning the side of the pool over, looking for the other plug, I commented, "It's really weird.  It's like you're putting air in and it coming right back out..."

...the other side.

Blink.

Because, you see, it was coming back out the other side.

Blink.  Blink.

Oh yes.  The nozzle of the pump was actually sticking out the bottom of the pool.  And somehow...my (sometimes) annoyingly intelligent husband never noticed he was trying to inflate it through the drain.

Snicker.

Snicker snicker.

Umm...I think we found our problem.

I was just relieved there wasn't a hole in the pool.

At least, not any unauthorized holes.

Bitty tantrum avoided.  At least for a little while.