Five Minutes of Terror

Yesterday afternoon, another scorcher in the recent Long Island heat wave, seemed a great time to take the Amigos to the community pool. After an hour there, the sky grew dark and a few raindrops began to fall. (Not a bad thing since we need the rain.) But, without warning, a wall of water began to crash down upon us. Naturally, the lifeguards all stood up and blew their whistles repeatedly to summon everyone out of the pool.

Sprinting towards the perimeter of the deck where our towels, shoes, and pool bag were, I became drenched. Once under the overhang, I realized that the wind was whipping the rain at such an angle that there would really be no shelter there. So I decided to grab the kids and all the stuff and head for the building. However, only the older two were next to me, trying to collect our stuff while being pelted hard in the face with raindrops. Son #3 was not with us, and it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

Of course the hearts started pounding and I could detect a shrillness rising in my voice. We agreed to split up and cover the area, meeting by the lifeguard area. It was barely possible to be heard, even while shouting, because of all the other people shouting. My heart sank as I pondered the fact that it would not have been unusual for a grownup to carry a screaming eight year old kid (mine) out of the pool area under these circumstances...and if my son were to have been dumped in a stranger's car and driven out of there, my heart would be broken forever. I tried not to freak out.

Still no luck as we met up at the lifeguard station. The boys checked the men's room and the front desk. I began to give a physical description of my son to the lifeguard in charge when, mercifully, he appeared, shivering with a towel covering his body head to toe. He hadn't heard his brothers calling for him in the rest room amid the commotion of all the people hiding from the rain in there. He'd taken his towel and gone in there because he actually had to use the facilities...which would have been fine if he'd told one of us where he was going. PHEW!

Not caring that all four of us and all of our belongings were completely waterlogged at this point, we made our way to the car as the rain continued to pour down. As we drove home, Son #2 (Mr. Melodrama) and I implored the little one to remember to always tell someone if he needed to leave the group. Murphy's Law is unfortunately still in effect. Whatever can go wrong usually does, at the worst possible time. But the feeling of relief was also washing over me at that moment, and I'd forgotten all about begin waterlogged.

Quick showers for all, and a load of laundry done, made everything seem okay again. I made an early dinner and was physically drained by 8PM. Monday morning came, and it felt like a typical one...until I got into the car to take Son #3 to camp. My seat cushion had not yet dried, and I managed to become soaked through before I realized what was happening. %$#@! I made the best of it by putting down a few canvas grocery bags from the trunk. It only took two hours to dry off. But I'm smiling, all things considered.