Confessions of a Sissy

O.K., I'm willing to admit it, I might not have been completely prepared for the marathon that is summer vacation.

We went down to the pool for the big End of the Year swim-a-thon Thursday afternoon. Last weekend we had gone to the pool, where on three different occasions Ace went bottoms up in the 2ft area. It's like all the mass of his body is located in his head, so once he goes down, that's all there is to it. He doesn't thrash about or kick his legs or anything, he just lays there like a slug waiting to be rescued. Even though I'm standing right there, it is totally scary. So for the swim-a-thon I insisted that he wear his arm floaties, which really should be located around his neck. We wrestled and there was screaming and crying and threats for what felt like five minutes. I won, and in retaliation for humiliating me in front of all the other mothers, I took him down to the 5ft. end, where he was at the mercy of my every whim. I told him I would not take him to the baby pool until he quit screaming at me. In his trademark REDRUM voice he screamed "PUT ME DOOOWWN! PUT ME DOWN!", but I held steady as I had no dignity left at that point. He finally settled his hash and I took him down to the shallows, where he immediately climbed out, stalked three feet across to the baby pool, sat down and glared at me. I went and sat down on a lounge chair where I could watch Peaches and be ever on the ready for his imminent return to the pool. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught him heading in my direction and as I turned toward him, he threw something at me. Turns out it was a small piece of gravel that he had fished out of the bottom of the baby pool. I jumped up, got down on his level, and said something (through gritted teeth) about not throwing things at Mommy and he headed back to the baby pool where he sat down to sulk some more. I took up my position on the lounger and not two minutes later he marched over and spit a mouthful of water at me. (please feel free to fill in your response here___________________________________.) I grabbed him by the arm, paddled his swim diaper twice and put him in a time-out at the end of the lounger. He straightened out after that (and more so after he got enough purchase on those arm-floaties to pull them off).

I find myself sighing alot. I live in the Bible belt, where one good spanking deserves another. Today my mom told me that I should go get a fly swatter, because they make a very loud swish and a snap on the diaper, I said "Mom, they don't make diapers out of plastic anymore." She's happy to tell anyone who'll listen that she just didn't have that kind of trouble with us, but I clearly remember giggling my butt off at her holding my brother by the arm while he ran around her in a circle and her dusting his bottom with that flyswatter all the way around. She also says "I spanked you once a day just on general principals." Which is funny, most of the time, because if you knew me, you'd know I never did anything that required a spanking. But when Ace is awake and on the prowl, it's just not very funny. "Don't hit your sister!" "Don't hit your sister!" "Don't hit YOUR SISTER!" *Swat*

How many weeks do I have to go?