I have trekked through the rain forests of Costa Rica. I have biked 18 miles up-hill to the top of Mount Constitution in Washington State. I have traveled through Turkey – by myself – with blond hair. But the ideaof going to Splish Splash Water Park terrifies me.
It’s not the possibility of drowning *though there is that), or the inherent germiness of being in a place where so much, and so many, are so damp. (Though there is that, too.) I’m afraid of it because it means I’ll have to wear a bathing suit in public for an extended period of time.
Sad, I know.
This is the summer of the staycation. This is the summer of tightening our belts, pulling up our bootstraps, pushing the limits of dark roots before getting our hair highlighted. So it would seem that a quick trip to Splish Splash would be – while expensive (family pack $109 – online only) – certainly a lot less expensive than a real trip and therefore a no-brainer.
But I’m nervous. I’ve sent the kids with the babysitter once, but I’ve yet to take the plunge (hokey pun intended) myself.
I’m not afraid of adventure, or new places, or even of getting up in a Karaoke bar in Barcelona and singing my heart out. (I’ve done that.) It’s not so much wearing the bathing suit. It’s about more than vanity, or lack of self esteem, or modesty (though there is all that). It’s also about letting loose. I’m afraid that if I take my kids to a place where “everyone” has fun, I won’t.
I’ve never been a let-loose type of Mom. I teach my kids things, I take them places, I love them, and read to them, and laugh with them…but unlike the babysitter, I’m not the Mom who comes up with great pool games to play with them. Or who does cannon balls into the deep end seventeen times in a row.
What if I take them to Splish Splash and I’m so uptight about the germs and the drowning, and the bathing suit in public thing that I ruin their good time? What if I spend the time talking about water displacement? Or the physics of sliding? What if I’m just not cut out for this kind of a day trip?
Maybe that’s what babysitters are for. Maybe that’s life: there are some things you’re cut out for, and some you’re not. Or maybe I should just grab a towel, grab some kids, and dive right in.