You want to know how I know that? Well, let me tell you a story*
Turns out, weekends when as a single mom are actually really long. You would think by the number of updates your mom friends post on Facebook and Instagram that it’s non-stop go-go-go, filled with trips to the zoo, science museums, story time, splash zones, play dates, and other things that make you feel insufficient as a human. This has never been my reality as Little Man is not a great car traveler and I am not a great planner. But even when we do have things planned all weekend, it still. seems. so. long. Probably because my day starts at the crack of dawn and I’ve accomplished more than most before 12pm and he never naps as long as I need him to. (“Psshhh. 2 Hours? C’mon, you can afford to nap a bit longer, buddy”). Most of this time is either spent cleaning up messes or allowing the messes to happen so I can sit down for longer than 10 minutes. Or looks like this:
So, I decide to be a little ambitious one morning. Little Man loves water, as is evident by the number of times he dumps our dogs water bowl on his head, so I thought an early morning trip to Deep Eddy Pool would be fun an excuse to get out of the house while managing the 100 degree heat. “We’ll leave early!” I foolishly thought. “Beat the crowds, eat concession stand food together, take adorable mommy-son pics…it’ll be great!”. The PLAN was to leave by 9:30 and arrive by 10 when the pool open. Little Man had other ideas, involving running naked around the house, refusing to eat breakfast, and a 45 minute tantrum that made mommy stare out the window and dream of another life.
We finally get out the door and make our way down to the pool. Fun fact! Did you know that 110 people move to Austin every day? Did you also know that half of them decided to go to the pool that day? I circle the lot several times, somehow missing not one but TWO people who are just leaving, and have no luck finding a space. I try the neighboring lots but they all have WE WILL TOW YOU IMMEDIATELY signs everywhere. I have no choice but to park on the street near Town Lake where the other half of the fresh batch of Austinites went. I take a deep breath, go to the backseat to get Little Man, and sure enough, he is fast a sleep. Deep sleep. Snoring, even. For crying out loud, kid. I evaluate the circumstance. He would never even know we were SUPPOSED to go to the pool. I could get him home, extract him carefully from the carseat and see if he will take a real nap in his crib and he would never know I deprived him of the pool. Hell, I’d even keep the car running and nap in the driveway alongside him. I’m close to doing this… but I don’t. “This is not about you, Deborah. It’s about him”.
I wake him up and to my surprise, he doesn’t cry. I grab both bags, place him on my hip, and walk the few blocks to the pool. Now there is a line to get in, but it’s going quickly. “See, this is nice,” I think. “This is going to be great”. As the crowd in front of my clears and all the well behaved children go off with their parents into the park, I see it. The sign says “CASH ONLY. NO BILLS UNDER $10”. Cash only. No bills under $10, you guys. Which means when I do take money out, I have to also find a way to break a $20. Because how tempting would a cash register full of $20 bills be to the person who obviously keeps robbing them, otherwise why would you have to deal with his problem?!?
I slowly approach the counter, hoping to catch a break. “You don’t take cards at all?” I am trying to sound as pathetic as I can. “No ma’am”. I look behind me and hope to catch the eye of a well-meaning white family that will say “Oh, we got it for you. Just enjoy your day!” NO ONE is behind me. I am somehow the last parent to bring her child to the pool. “So…where is your ATM”. There’s always an ATM when you only take cash that will gladly charge you $3.00 for your $10 withdrawal. “Yeah, it’s actually pretty close. So once you leave the parking lot, just make a right and after the first light, there is a gas station on your right and they have one there.” And I die.
A morning full of mis-timed events and poor planning decisions had lead to this moment. I slowly put my sunglasses on and turn around and the tears just start coming. I’m walking but I don’t know where. To the car? Do I drive there? Do I walk up hill, across the street, past the intersection to the gas station? Shouldn’t we just go home already! “This. Is. About. Him”
So I make the trek. I take out the money. I buy Little Man junk food because of course they don’t have healthy snacks that a toddler can eat at the gas station. I break the $20 because they are afraid of large bills and we make our way back. I pay the attendant so sternly and I’m unapologetically sweating and gross when I do it. All because Deep Eddy Doesn’t Take Cash.
#Neverforget
*I easily could have told you about how much fun we actually had when we were there, about how my son didn’t want to let go of me and we cuddled in the water, about how he got the courage to walk around the shallow end and how we shared a hot dog and how I loved that time so much, but who wants to hear all that??
DailyDebs 