A little giddy :)

Yesterday my love, Nicholas, and I took my son, Fisher, to Water Ways--West Virginia's Water Park.  Those of you in Kanawha County (or anywhere else) who think that Boone County is only good for incest porn,  you are sorely mistaken.  (Just kidding, Boone friends, I love you and the Whites.  Ok...I don't love the Whites.  Actually I think they're a plague on you and the rest of WV.  Wow, I'm back to that stupidity thing again already???!!)

Anyway, despite the fact that being in a wooded area makes the bugs a pesky factor in your day trip to the water park on the side of a mountain, the scenery is serene and beautiful (assuming you don't include some major cottage cheese thigh yumminess in your definition of "scenery"...don't get pissy; mine were included).

In fact, Nick just lay there most of the time on the shady hillside watching the cumulus clouds and jets float by while Fisher and I scoured the small, but perfect for us, park.  My companion works hard in a sweaty chef's uniform most of the week, and he was pleased to lie on the old hot blanket in the easy 80-degree goodness.  A perfect spring day for him.  Except there was no World of Warcraft vestibule at the entrance of the park, so he just walked around looking for us when he got lonely or bored (although I'm sure he was just thinking of us...which of course is matched by lonely, eh?).  Wonderful because I got pictures of my son enjoying water slides for the first time :)

I could understand why Nick wanted to take a nap rather than climb endless stairs over and over and spend the next day or two with aching thighs (and it wasn't about the string bikini girls anchored on the hillside below him; I spared more glances their way than my respectful partner).  

But it brought a question to the forefront of my mind.  While Nick has never been on a water slide in his life, many of these people had.  Therefore, they had to know it's feeling of weightlessness and pure giddiness.  I felt great.  And every time I resurfaced, after making sure Fisher breathed air even sooner than myself, I was ready to do it again even before he cried, "I wanna go again."

Now, maybe that's not exactly true.  I did have to carefully place my breasts back where they belonged before I was ready to exit the landing pool and hurry to the stairs.  Even before that, I used the rest of the air in my lungs to ask Fisher if he was alright.  So it went like this for me...check on offspring, check on boobies, go again!

I saw mothers standing around the exit to the landing pool.  They were waiting on their children.  Maybe they worried, maybe they were dragged there by their babies.  Maybe they really wanted to go on the slides but they were ashamed.  I understand if they were just plain worn out from their everyday lives of parenting and financial slavery bliss.

Now, I hate to assume, because I do a fine job of making an ass of myself on a daily basis as it is.  But I feel like most people need a little more water slide in their life.  Even when they're tired.  No.  Especially when they are tired.  When is the last time you let yourself feel like a kid?  We all have responsibilities and complete exhaustion that compete with having fun and feeling free, but we still need to find the time to feel free.

Everyone does it differently too.  Maybe water slides wouldn't make you feel free.  Maybe you hate water.  Or germs.  Or rednecks.  (I'm telling you though, I've been to a concrete oasis in Florida and our park is nice enough...plus it doesn't have the 250-foot drop of Der Stuka or the surprise action of The Bombay, which almost equally shove your swimsuit so far up your ass you need an enema with a stick of butter to get it out.)

Nonetheless, I really just want to remark on self-consciousness more than anything.  When my son was born, I remember telling my aunt Sandy that I didn't want to be the mom who stood back and just watched him play all of the time.  She thought I was saying I wanted to look like an involved mother to everyone else.  But I was just trying to tell her that I noticed that some people were reserved while in public and I wanted to be free of that.  I wanted to spend some of the time (because most of my time was spent teaching and in appointments and doing housework) just acting like my son's friend and not caring what society thought of me.

I wanted to play.  Get wet.  Get dirty.  Not care what anyone thought of me but my son.

Really I just wanted to be there for him.

But, as it turns out, it's him that's been there for me.  He keeps me caring and young.  He keeps me enjoying the things that are really fun.  The things that matter more than how much money is in my bank account after the bills are paid and we are fed. 

Seeing the world again through his eyes is like seeing it for the first time.