BATHERS & BAGINAS

A hairbrush. So simple. But it
had never dawned on me to bring one to the swimming pool. I saw another mum
brushing her daughter’s hair and actually stared in awe at the simplicity of
such a brilliant idea. I consider it a good day if I remember nappies/undies
for us all.

And so I share with you my
stunning level of expertise on tackling the change rooms after swimming
lessons.

I have kept my daughter afloat whilst watching my son desperately fiddle with his goggles for 30 minutes and now it is time to hit the change rooms. Sounds simple enough? Wrong.

Picture this (though not too hard, please); myself, my three year old and my one year old in the stroller…she has clearly been strapped in by a nasty, unreasonable mother against her will and she is making sure everyone knows about it. We are dripping wet and freezing and already hitting
our first hurdle trying to negotiate the ridiculously heavy door just to get inside. The exciting
news, possibly the highlight of my day (oh yes; it has really come to that), is that my three year old can finally
hold the door open. He can hold it open and I can push the stroller in;
smack bang into the ‘private change room’ of  the Water Aerobics for Seniors ladies. Boobs, bottoms and bits are swinging around everywhere; they are
excitedly chatting away to each other whilst they rinse their bathers nude at
the sinks. Glad wrap swim caps are being folded away as my little boys eyes blink wide.

Please don’t say
anything…please don’t say anything… I silently plead…But wow – he is
only three and even I don’t know where to look…

“Mummy; look! She has a ba-gina
just like you!”

Nah…didn’t hear it. Not a
thing.

Time to focus. Bathers. So my strategy and skill
set is developing each week. The kids are getting older. I can sit them both up
on the bench and tackle each… youngest to oldest.

“Look Mummy! She has big boobies
like you.”

Nah…keep focused on stripping
daughter. Wriggling and wet, she is a force. I am trying to keep it together.

Then I hear that wonderful,
patient Mummy, who has even taken on showering her child. Polite exchanges;
calm, nurtuting and even educational. Bet she has even prepared a sliced fruit
snack carefully sealed in a Tupperware container…possibly alongside some
homemade hommus and carrot slices,  all
ready for after the shower.

“Sit down!!” I urgently beg my 1
year old, “You’ll fall!”

And yes; off she tumbles,
slightly cushioned by my quick acting foot reflex, averting any serious
damage. My eyes sneak sideways furtively…who saw? Yep: patient, carrot sticks
mummy is now out of the shower, casting smug, disapproving looks my way. Keep going, Anna…keep going.

And now the undies tangle!! It’s hard enough negotiating this hurdle alone; let alone adding two wet and whingeing kids. Wet
skin and undies is like oil and water; they are cold, I am cold and I am not even close to the finish line. And joy of joys, here come the Primary School kids in to change after
their lesson. My dull headache begins to boom in time to their happy shrieks.

“Oh look, Mummy! She is nice and fat like Augustus Gloop!”

Hmmm…. will deal with that in the car.

And now it’s my turn – goose-bumps
and blue lips by now and fingers that simply won’t work. I try wiggling my bathers off under my towel…and down it goes. Boobs and bum flashing
everywhere. And you know what?? I could madly scramble for my towel, but maybe
the Water Aerobics Nanna’s have it right. Why fight it? We’ve all got the same bits, right? I
decide to embrace it.
My daughter sqwuaks, “Bottom, mummy, bottom!”
“You have nice big jocks, Mummy,” my son shouts. “And the top of your legs are lovely and wobbly,” he adds, just in case I haven’t copped the jibe about having big knickers…
Whatever. I
actually dry myself properly and get my gear on.
Done; swimming done for
another week.

And it’s only 10am.