Plan Ahead: How Packing for the Pool Changed My Life for the Better

It was one of those dog days of summer. The temperature was 82 degrees at 9 o’clock in the morning and the humidity was close to 100%. My air conditioning was on the fritz.

The kids and I hunkered down in the basement. It was cooler down there. We’d already had Chex mix and juice boxes. Played hide and seek. Watched Handy Manny (three episodes). set up the Batcave. And built Legos. 

We were into our third game of Hullaballo and I was going crazy. I appreciated the cool air, but I was craving sunlight. And adult interaction.

My phone pinged and I looked at the text with gratitude. Then I looked at the kids. And finally, at the baby bouncing in his saucer. 

The plan

I suckd in a big breath. “Do you guys want to go to the pool,” I asked.

My inquiry could not have been met with any more enthusiasm if I had announced we were going to Disney World. My kids were used to being out and about. The summer before we had spent nearly every morning at the pool and they loved it.

But up until that point I had not been brave enough to face the pool with three kids by myself. I hadn’t been smart enough to plan ahead. And the thought of braving the pool solo filled me with dread.

Still, I knew that sooner or later I’d have to make the trip. So I figured, “why not today?”

“We’ll be there in an hour,” I texted back. My friends were going to be there.  I’d have reinforcements.

I didn’t plan ahead 

What I didn’t count on was how long it takes to prepare three kids for an afternoon at the pool. 

It always took me a couple of trips to get the packing list down each summer. One of the drawbacks of having four distinct seasons is that you are always learning and relearning what works for each. 

So every summer it was like I was larning anew My pool list included towels, sunscreen, water wings, pool toys, band aids, sun shirts, a change of clothes, lip balm, sunglasses, hat, snacks, money . . .

Packing for a day at the pool was definitely no picnic. I really whished I had the foresight to plan ahead.

On top of all that, I now had an infant. That meant diapers and wipes and swim diapers. Pacifiers, baby toys, an extra swimsuit, an extra outfit, changing pad,  puffs, diaper cream, floatie, blankie, duck. I’d need the stroller when we got there.

And I knew I was forgetting something. . .

I almost threw in the towel at least three times.

Maybe I should have planned ahead

The kids were whiny. The baby was crying. It took me over two hours to get everything ready to go. By then I half-expected to walk outside to giant storm clouds. After all the effort of getting ready I didn’t even want to go anymore. Why didn’t I plan ahead?

Finally, I found both of my daughter’s crocs, and we were all buckled in the car. The sun was still shining brightly. I pulled down my sunglasses, cranked some Bon Jovi, and, about three hours after I first suggested it, we arrived at the pool.

Of course, my friends were long gone by then. The causalty of not planning ahead. But we were there.

I’d love to tell you we had a grand old time. But I can’t remember. I was so exhausted from getting everyone ready to go, and trying to keep eyes on my kiddos who were in the water while I sat pool side with the baby, that the afternoon passed in a blur. No pina coladas for this mom of three.

But at least we were out in the sunshine. They always kept the pool at a mom-friendly temperature. The baby didn’t hate the water. My kids found some friends. And, most importantly, everybody slept for hours when we got home.

I guess it was a win.

My lightbulb moment

As I started prepping dinner that night, I had an epiphany. 

Since having my second child I had been living in a constant state of rush. Of anxiety. Of stress.

My stomach was always twisting and turning, my head pounding, and my heart racing as I played a daily game of beat the clock.

Whether I was trying to get the kids to school so I could get to work on time or we were just trying to make it to the park to play, we were always running late. 

I HATE being late. 

Prior to becoming a mom I was always early. I always took the time to plan ahead. To scout the very best route. Caluclate the opportune time to leav.e

I was one of the first to arrive. Sometimes I’d sit in my car and kill time so I didn’t arrive inappropriately early. (That’s a much more pleasant way to pass time now, by the way, with satellite radio and smartphones). 

A constant state of rush

But after kids, I was always anxious. Always rushing. Always just a couple of red lights away from being late.

Getting everybody out the door took forever. Kids weren’t dressed. Backpacks were missing. Homework wasn’t done. We could never find a matching pair of shoes. 

All of these pitfalls plagued us daily even though I had tried to plan ahead. I had a basket for shoes and a hook for backpacks. We had a process for homework and permission slips. I turned off the t.v. in favor of music to help kids move along faster in the morning.

But no system in the world works with a four year old. (I know someone will write and tell me it does.)

But that night, as I cut veggies, I realized my problem wasn’t the system or even getting my kids to cooperate. It was my own inability to plan realistically.  

For years, I had a routine. I knew how long it took to get ready and out the door in the morning. And once my oldest son was born I of course made adjustments. I got up earlier and got myself ready first.

Failure to plan ahead

But I failed to keep making these adjustments as I had two kids, and then three. My morning routine tripled in complexity. And then tripled again as more little people became “independent”. And I didn’t make the accomodations to plan ahead.

I thought if it always took five minutes to leave the house, it would continue to take five minutes to leave the house. 

But packing for the pool that day underscored just how off my estimation really was. And it wasn’t just for gathering supplies for the pool. It was every day. I simply wasn’t being realistic about how long things actually took.

This wasn’t just about getting read to leave the house. It was everything.

From grocery shopping to laundry to making dinner or pickign up toys. Every single thing in my life took longer than I expected, 

My inability to accurately predict how long something would take meant that we were always running behind. I was always feeling rushed. It wasn’t the kids fault. It was my own.

My error in judgment had a huge impact on my mood. And on my kids moods/ Ever notice how kids feed off of your attitude?

Taking back control

I put the veggies on a baking sheet, drizzlde olive oil on them and realized, finally, that rushing through life was something I could control.

And . . . there were two ways to control it. The first was simply to plan more time. To start earlier. To resist doing just one more thing. Tp figure out how long things actually took.

And the other was to not worry about it.

Sure, we had to be at school and work on time. We had to be on time for doctor’s appointments. And even for the fun stuff like gymnastics and music class.

If I was going to run a tight ship on work/school days, then who cared what time we got to the park? The pool? The playground? Events that were supposed to be fun didn’t need a rigid schedule.

So the very next day I began consciously timing tasks. Everything from making breakfast to packing lunches to picking up all the towels on the bathroom floor. Knowledge is power, friends. And once I knew how long tasks actually took, I could plan ahead.

A work in progress

Now, I am by no means perfect at this. My kids are no longer little. They are busy teens. That presents a whole new host of challenges. And while I am fighting back againt busy culture, read about it here, I can’t just wave a magic wand and make all of our commitments disappear.

I am great at fitting everything into the schdule. But no so great about keeping the overhwelm at bay. That is a work in progress.

But if you’d like to figure out a way to make time for writing in your busy shcedule, I’m your girl. Learn more here.

Until then, cut yourself some slack. Figure out how long things really take. Try and plan ahead. And remember everything is not race.

Happy Writing,