observations from suburbia...part one

This afternoon I headed out to my neighborhood pool to catch some rays before my cousin's wedding this weekend (What is it about having to look better than normal just to see a whole lot of family? More on that later...) and I was just amused watching everyone there. Seriously, it was a circus.

Our lifeguard is more like Squints, not the male version of Wendy Peffercorn

First, we've got the pre-pubescent lifeguard. He's a nice enough guy, but really, who are you protecting? He attempts to impress all the ladies above the age of ten by scoring goals on the basketball goal situated on the edge of the pool. Lifeguard-boy, you are a hoot.

Like I said, a nice nazi.

Next we have the pool nazi. She's actually a very nice lady... once she is absolutely positive that you are not breaking any of the pool rules, i.e., you do, in fact, live in our neighborhood and that you are old enough to be at the pool by yourself. Her house is right next door to the club house and pool, so she's not actually in an authority position on the homeowner's board, but she's taken upon the responsibility as her own. You rock on, pool protector.

They weren't quite this picturesque

Moving on, there is the mom towing three young children. In typical mom fashion, she's rocking her polo tankini. Over the course of about an hour, one of the girls has a meltdown because mom used her towel (tears and all), both little girls get in trouble for sassing their mother, the little boy attempts to squirt everyone in sight with his water blaster, all three get yelled at for running (by the mom, not the lifeguard), there are at least 5 threats to "pack up and go home right now if your behavior doesn't improve immediately," 6 juice boxes, one broken straw, 2 timeouts, a lizard that gets picked up by one sister and shoved in the other sister's face, and then a mad dash by all three to get out of the pool when thunder is heard overhead. It's just another day for that cul-de-sac mom.

Her floaties weren't this cool, but, seriously, where was this thing when I was a kid?

Then we've got grandpa and itty-bitty granddaughter. Homegirl is sporting the water wings like a champ, and grandpa keeps his shirt and hat on in the pool, typical. They splash around and she attempts to play with the other kids, who are a little bit older than she is. But then her mom pulls up to watch this Kodak moment. Of course, she ends up talking to the other tankini mom, at which point they begin discussing one of the kid's rashes. And I'm not talking about a hushed-tones kind of conversation with vague descriptions, either. Excuse me, what? We're in a semi-public place. That's disgusting. Take that business home. Why is rash-kid bopping around the pool, anyway? Isn't that stuff contagious? Good thing lifeguard boy peaced out because he had a doctor's appointment, otherwise he'd be needing some mouth-to-mouth (provided by someone else since my CPR and first aid certification has expired...whew). Tankini lady two, take a lesson from the pool and filter.

...And then there was me. Creepily watching all of this transpire while listening to my beach music playlist, reading "Tender Is The Night," and sunscreening it up with my SPF 55. (Over-stimulated much?) As much as I would love to say I was a complete outsider and just observed everything as a third party, not the case. I'm sure my presence contributed to the comedic display just as much as the next tankini lady.