Think boredom is a choice? Think again. We’re all searching for things to do while playing it COVID safe, but searching for things to do in a pandemic while pregnant presents a whole new set of challenges; a set that Allie Hartwick is ready to take on.
As pandemic restrictions are slowly rolled back, I am celebrating the return of my neighborhood pool, among other things.
It’s summer, officially, and the weather knows it. A week+ of temps in the triple digits have pushed me to my miserable max, and I’m trying to spend every second possible submerged in cool chlorinated water.
This is a task that is surprisingly difficult here in the glorious state of Colorado.
First, let me explain the summer pool culture I’m used to.
Western New York, where I spent the majority of my life, is full of pools.
Backyard, in-ground, above ground, public, private; you name it, we got it.
In-ground pools in the backyard are for rich people, or fancy people.
Above ground pools are for, well, anyone. If you wanna fake being fancy, you can build a deck around them that’s attached to the house. I’ve swam in many of those imposters.
Public pools are substitute babysitters from June-Labor Day, and private swim clubs are for the really high-class kids. Most of us just hope for a plus-one sometime in the summer months.
Swimming is part of summer culture in WNY.
This is an evidentiary satellite image of just one part of one neighborhood in the Buffalo area, and this is not an anomaly. How many backyard pools do you count?
This is normal in a city that’s warm enough to swim in THREE months out of an entire year.
Why on earth do people in Denver not have pools?! It’s sometimes in the 70’s in March! We could easily swim until October. Where are all the pools?
My husband and I are seriously considering breaking the mold and just putting one in the backyard, because we’re done being baffled by the lack of personal swim space.
But that doesn’t help this overheated lady in the here and now.
Because none of my friends are gazillionaires, or feel like converting their entire yard into a pool (legitimate landscaping option in the Buffalo area), I’m left begging for an invite to their neighborhood pools, or supporting Denver Parks & Rec with a day pass to the public pool.
I typically opt for the latter.
The City of Denver really has some incredible indoor and outdoor pools. The one in my neighborhood has one lane for lap swimming that’s available all day, and a water slide that’s not half bad.
While once upon a time, I'd be doing laps for over an hour, in my third trimester, I like to float around the shallow end for a bit, swim a few laps, and enjoy the only moments of relative weightlessness I can muster.
Sometimes there are a few adorable families I can creepily gush over from behind my sunglasses, and that really makes my day.
But most of the time, the pool is plagued with a plethora of marginally supervised pre-teens that are at peak levels of attempting to impress their friends, and their summer crushes.
It’s horrible on so many levels.
I cringe just thinking about the awkward middle school phase we all have to go through. There’s so much posturing, and insecurity, and uncertainty, and sweat, and braces. Woof. You couldn’t pay me a million dollars to go back to that stage of life.
Watching other people go through it isn’t much better.
No matter how cool you thought you were between the ages of 11 and 14, you weren’t.
You were weird, and you tried too hard, and your jokes may have made your friends laugh, but you probably weren’t funny.
If you were a good kid, adults probably loved you, and kids your own age were a bit less enthusiastic.
If you were popular with your classmates, guess what, you were a jerk. Hate to break it to you.
At my local pool, these jerks and wannabe jerks seem to love taking up all the space in the deep end while they tease each other, make insensitive remarks, disrespect the lifeguards and overall, just annoy the bajeezus out of everyone.
Middle school teachers, you are wildly underpaid, and has anyone checked in on your mental well-being? I assume you live at a breaking point.
Parents of middle schoolers, I’m legitimately sorry, this has got to be rough for you too.
So here I float, wanting to banish these kids from the pool for disrupting my leisure time with lame anecdotes about whatever crap they find interesting, when it dawns on me: One day, I’m going to have one of these monsters living in my house, and they will venture out into the world, likely to ruin some other pregnant person’s attempt at a relaxing afternoon.
NOOOOO! What have I done? To myself, to the world, to humanity?!
Who knew admission to this deceptively tranquil-seeming public oasis included an existential crisis (quite the bargain for two bucks)?
Suddenly, this kid’s position in my uterus seemed like the least of my concerns. I only have ten years or so to avoid him turning into a nuisance to all of society, and my lollygagging around in a pool isn’t going to help! Why did I bring some trashy beach read with me when I should be reading every book aimed at helping me raise a kid who doesn’t think splashing the lifeguard with a cannonball is comedy at it’s finest? Does Dr. Spock have a chapter on that?
If anything, this trip to the local watering hole has further cemented me in my desire to convert the majority of our home’s outdoor space into my own private swim center. If we want grass, there’s a park down the street, I can’t risk facing my future like this on a regular basis, I’ll never survive parenthood.
Here’s hoping I can find a less stressful way to cool off these next few weeks, or I get better at accepting my fate.
Sincerely,
Allie and the Future Jerk
