OK yeah, there are some rather ominous looking clouds overhead and your iPhone radar says there might be lightning but I see that as rather shabby evidence for your screeching at all of our children to leave the pool forthwith or suffer the thousand natural shocks of likely electrocution. Seriously, CHILL, other hockey mom at our end-of-season team pool party.
Despite your having told me that my daughter's swimming today--you obviously DID NOT NOTE the Hindenberg-esque mass of plastic, duct tape, foil and air with which I swaddled her casted, broken arm--will surely result in maggots (MAGGOTS!) emerging tempest-tossed from the dark, close confines of her pediatric short arm cast when it is finally removed, and your assurances that once you attended medical school--I hesitate to defer to your meteorological judgments. While I forbid my children to enter the pool within 30 minutes of a snack (for reasons conferred me by a generation of Texas Pool Moms, namely that should we reenter the pool within 30 minutes of eating our bologna sandwiches we would suffer cramps so debilitating as to cause drowning and death despite our mothers being right there, poolside), I typically refrain from this kind of unilateral pool evacuation until I've experienced thunder, lightning, and also either deja-vu, shadenfreude, or acid reflux. With all due respect, lady, you are no Jim Cantore and unless I see Willard Scott himself carried off, Mary-Poppins-like and in possession of no less than 17 jars of Strawberry Smuckers via a Cat 5 hurricane o'er the Louisiana delta, I shall not panic.
So chill, woman. Seriously. Have a sip of this rum punch I have so cunningly disguised as a Venti Starbucks© Latte. (I save those cups for a reason!) It is strong as well as tasty. Have it all, in fact--I have a cooler of it in the back of the minivan, between the boy's hockey bag and yesterday's groceries which sadly never made it to the pantry.
And what do you know! Just like that the storm has passed! All children accounted for, none electrified or otherwise. Someone's pug nearly just drowned but that had less to do with the weather and more to do with our goalie's insistence that all dogs can swim right before he threw said dog from the diving board.
So cheers, Panicky Hockey Mom With a Heightened Sense of Drama. Could it be that the mole on your arm is indeed, Melanoma? No? A tick? Lyme disease is rampant down here, you know.
Anyway, the water's nice.You should get in.
Despite your having told me that my daughter's swimming today--you obviously DID NOT NOTE the Hindenberg-esque mass of plastic, duct tape, foil and air with which I swaddled her casted, broken arm--will surely result in maggots (MAGGOTS!) emerging tempest-tossed from the dark, close confines of her pediatric short arm cast when it is finally removed, and your assurances that once you attended medical school--I hesitate to defer to your meteorological judgments. While I forbid my children to enter the pool within 30 minutes of a snack (for reasons conferred me by a generation of Texas Pool Moms, namely that should we reenter the pool within 30 minutes of eating our bologna sandwiches we would suffer cramps so debilitating as to cause drowning and death despite our mothers being right there, poolside), I typically refrain from this kind of unilateral pool evacuation until I've experienced thunder, lightning, and also either deja-vu, shadenfreude, or acid reflux. With all due respect, lady, you are no Jim Cantore and unless I see Willard Scott himself carried off, Mary-Poppins-like and in possession of no less than 17 jars of Strawberry Smuckers via a Cat 5 hurricane o'er the Louisiana delta, I shall not panic.
So chill, woman. Seriously. Have a sip of this rum punch I have so cunningly disguised as a Venti Starbucks© Latte. (I save those cups for a reason!) It is strong as well as tasty. Have it all, in fact--I have a cooler of it in the back of the minivan, between the boy's hockey bag and yesterday's groceries which sadly never made it to the pantry.
And what do you know! Just like that the storm has passed! All children accounted for, none electrified or otherwise. Someone's pug nearly just drowned but that had less to do with the weather and more to do with our goalie's insistence that all dogs can swim right before he threw said dog from the diving board.
So cheers, Panicky Hockey Mom With a Heightened Sense of Drama. Could it be that the mole on your arm is indeed, Melanoma? No? A tick? Lyme disease is rampant down here, you know.
Anyway, the water's nice.You should get in.
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Nice post! Awesome!
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