I did it. I did it. Yaaaaaaay, me! Sure I took a risk wearing my new 2 piece suit, but the old 2 piece was beginning to fail me and my trusty 'ol one piece was proving more and more difficult to maneuver during bathroom trips. I knew right away luck was on my side as I pulled up the enormous looking size 20 bottoms and heard the elastic snap snugly just at my belly button.
My Mom had gotten this suit for me nearly eons ago now, but I'd still hadn't had the energy to try it on. As a matter of fact all I'd done before packing them up was hold them up to myself to determine how huge I was sure they would be. C'mon, Mom. I'm sure I'm no more than a size 18 at my hugest. Geesh! What had she been thinkin'? I'd even planned on taking them in a bit on each side seam by hand during the ride up.
Forgetting to pack my sewing kit turned out to be a blessing. Although deep inside I'd hoped they fall off of me and to the floor, as I just couldn't be THAT big. Instead Mom had proved to know best yet again and they fit like a glove. And this was a good thing as my other 2 piece option, which I didn't even bother to pack, had quit being effective at staying up quite possibly some years earlier.
I must confess the now ill-fitting suit was one of my first official maternity pieces. And tho we've suffered a few close calls together I just can't seem to let 'er go. Ha! Trouble is she has no problem letting go of me. Maybe I'll just retire the bottoms and keep the baby doll top to wear with some cut-off blue jeans. Everything goes well with Daisy Dukes, dahling, EVERYTHING!
Didn't know I was a closet fashionista, did ya? Well, I am! I just don't have the energy needed to experiment anymore. And I turn enuff heads already with the horribly awkward way I get around. A pink wig with ultra cool funky clothes nowadays may just make people's heads explode. And I wouldn't want that mess all over me. Showering soooo wears me out.
Where was I? Ahhhh, yes, dressing for the pool. Now for the top. I'd planned on taking that in too. And that, my friends, is still my plan. Built with the same elastic as the matching bottoms it seemed more than capable of properly supporting, well, anything that needed supporting. Complete with formed cups inside just above an elastic band to aid in this "supporting role," this suit may just be, (dare I say it?) - the perfect suit!
Over the head and down with the tankini top. And, "Noooooo!" I'm all for showing a little cleveage now and then, BUT considering the elastic band failed to even ever so lightly hug me - apparently the designer planned for a thicker torso to go with them D cups. A 44D perhaps, whereas I have somehow miraculously remained a 38D. The math then? Each of the side seams would have to come in about 3 inches each. No problem once I'm home, but what to do now?
The ever kind hubby speaks up above the boys repeated pleas to hurry, and says, "It looks fine, Babe." And maybe it had, sitting there precariously low already - without the added weight of the water. That is what I was worried about. And then he says, surprised, "Oh! You're gettin' in?" Well yeh! This could be my last chance 'til we make it back up here, or maybe even - EVER at the rate I was deteriorating.
I hadn't planned on getting in right away as I wanted to insure the boys got some quality swim time in before I risked ruining it all by falling, getting stuck, or even drowning, etc. But I had scoped the place out the day before and located a lift chair in one of the smaller 3 - 4 ft. pools. As luck would have it, it was the very same pool that had the basketball goals. ; ) Score one for the former basketball player!
The plan was I'd use the steps and the hand rails to get in and if upon exiting my legs proved too weak (as they had earlier at my pool at home), Jason would alert a lifeguard and we would pray there was no outrageous weight limit on the lift chair. Worst case - Amelia was only 2 1/2 hours away. Hehehehe. Red Sonja to the rescue!
So with check-out at 11:00, we'd packed up, straightened the room and loaded the truck by 10. Why the rush? I'd hoped for a small rest before hitting the pool. DENIED! Couldn't rest for the begging. And besides, I wasn't THAT worn out, as all I'd done all morning was stuff my face and put on my suit. It was the men that had done all the tuff stuff. And if it was swimmin' they wanted . . .
Then swimmin' we'd go! And boy did we. Just as I planned I didn't get in right away, but when I did it had gone, wellllll, swimmingly! I'm not such a bad walker at all under water. And I so enjoyed not gettin' any weird ass "wonder why the hell SHE'S in a wheelchair?" stares. Normalcy is soooo underrated.
I mean really!?! What's worse than a random kid gawking at you in a wheelchair? Anybody? A random kid AND both his parents gawking at you in a wheelchair. Had they missed school the day they taught manners? Look up etiquette why don't ya. That is, of course, if you can read. Duh?! Take a picture next time people, it'll last longer. Thankfully the cool of the water dampened my thoughts of going postal - at least for a bit. I had prayed for calm. And again I received.
Also, I was reminded that all people aren't inherently bad. As luck or grace would have it, there was a very kind couple who fell all over themselves to assist me and Jason with my awkward transitions from chair to pool and back again. And get this . . . all the while they hadn't gawked. No mouths hanging open and no bugged eyes of confusion. Just kind, caring people.
Then upon leaving the pool another example of God's presence occurred when a Dad, Mom, two boys and a little girl exited the elevator we'd been waiting on. As they filed past us I overheard the Mom whisper something to the eldest of her boys who had just so happened to be holding the door open for his family. Once empty he shifted positions from inside to outside of the elevator, but continued holding the door . . .
And once on the outside the young gentleman also added a smile. How kind. Sure the Mom may have asked him to or at least felt like reminding him to, but I felt that he had intended to all along. Thank you young man! And, good job, Mom! Kudos to both parents for teaching manners and anti-gawking! And to me and Jason too as we and both our gentlemen in training thanked the young man as we passed. Maybe there was still hope for the world afterall.
Or had I been thrust into the Twilight Zone? The boys hadn't whined when we said it was time to go. And people were being nice. Somebody pinch me. Or not as it'd prolly hurt. My MS hug was nearing unbearable so surely I wasn't dreaming. But just in case, once loaded up and buckled in I clicked my heels together three times. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." And with NO stops and NO funnel clouds - we found ourselves at home in NO time. And what's better than arriving home from being away? Answer: Arriving to a clean home. Thank you, thank you, thank you Granny and Papaw!
And Gooch thanks you too! Him and Papaw are now buddies 'cause Papaw had come over to feed and let him out while we were away. I just knew they'd hit it off. What I didn't know was that kennels aren't exactly excited about housing a pit bull? If they only about his fear of butterflies. Grrrrrrr! You may not know this, but I'm the growler in the family. Let me put that in caps, GGRRRRRRRR! Ferocious, right?!
So we're home. And exhausted. And we've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Sunday? Yep. Church? Yep. August 15th? Yep. My Dad would say, "First day of squirrel hunting season!" Maybe. I dunno. Doesn't the actual start date change every year? I'm all for shootin' squirrels whenever they'll slow down enuff to let me. Hehehe, but I've never killed one myself. My Dad on the other hand was upset August 15, 2003 'cause he was stuck over at the hospital missin' out on huntin'.
Why, you ask? Ahhhhhh, yes! ABEL'S BIRTHDAY!!! The big day ahead of us was Abel Robert's 7th birthday. (Named for my Dad of course!) So much to do and so little time left. And even less energy. "Jason?" I ask, "You feel up to baking a cake?" (Let's hope he does!) Where's Glinda and her magic wand when I really need her? Of all the times to leave town, Connie, Shelley, geesh!
Dun, Daah, Da . . . [for the hearing impaired, that's old school cliffhanger music]
Will the cake get baked? Iced? Decorated? And where did all the presents go? Learn the answers to these questions and more in the next installment of 'Big Mama's Blatherings.'