There is no way Mum is getting a pool

The eldest went to camp yesterday. She told me she needed to be at the school for a 7.40am departure, so I popped upstairs to have a shower at 7.15am and, as I was lathering, I had a panicked thought: “I trusted Miss Vague 2013 to tell me what time the bus was leaving?!?!”

That was the end of my relaxing shower. I frantically threw myself out and tumbled down the stairs to search my emails for the official departure time. Because the eldest CANNOT BE TRUSTED.

This was clearly displayed only the night before when we were packing for camp and realised her sneakers were nowhere to be found. We searched high. We searched low. We shook our heads and gnashed our teeth in frustrated fury – it had only been 24 hours since they were last sighted. We insisted she THINK, try and remember what she’d done with them. We scoured the backyard with a torch, we scoured the car.

After wafting around all it’s not my fault, she came ambling out of the lounge room saying “Hidden in plain sight!” and dangling them from her finger.

WHERE did you find those? We demanded to know.

Oh, they were hanging from the handlebars of my bike, she blithely informed us. How she forgot she hung them from the handlebars of her bike is beyond me.

And this is the person I was trusting to tell me when we were due at the school.

Fortunately she was right. But my nerves were shot by that point so I sent Husband to drop her off. He returned to inform me that it was going to be 3 degrees at the campsite overnight.

You’d think that might have been mentioned in the extensive packing literature somewhere.

But no, they were too busy insisting on swimsuits and rash shirts and sunglasses to suggest something practical like a heavy jacket might be necessary.

Husband took the youngest along to drop-off to save himself a double trip. They pootled off to a cafe afterwards.

Last night, the youngest informed me that over their hot chocolates Daddy informed her that “There is no way Mum is getting a pool”.

The youngest is razor-sharp when it comes to recollecting.

Well, I beg to differ, Husband.

Mum IS getting a pool.

She’s just struggling to find one that’s cheap, doesn’t need a crane to lift it over the house, complies with council flood zone requirements, can be heated and is easy to clean.

This has been proving difficult, but I think I finally cracked it on the bus on the way home last night. It’s from Paradise Pools in Toronto. Their motto is: “No one ever regrets buying quality.”

Nice.

You need to be a bit open minded about it. Take into consideration that my backyard is a bit rainforesty and rustic, rather than slick and modern.

I’m thinking I’ll install it freestanding, as the log sides will work in with the theme. They will also avoid the need for expensive pool fencing and might even look quite fetching with lots of citronella grass around them as a natural mosquito deterrent.

I’ll run a glorified diving board out to it from our back deck with a safety gate on it.

Laughing. (In the right way. You, on the other hand, may be laughing in the wrong way.)

Now I just need to twist Husband’s arm behind his back.

Oh, and maybe get a quote. That might help.