the post-swim sleepies.
or: my worst babysitting performance ever.
This past weekend, I biked Marcie out to R-Park in Wilson, Wyoming. It was THE most gorgeous day: sun shining, leaves changing, hot and cool at the same time. The leaves right now, feel like a gorgeous Where’s Waldo of nature. You spot these four or five bright yellow trees far away in a sea of green pines and it feels like you’re in on some magical secret. You won. You found it.
Marcelline and I got to the pond and did a lot of exploring and then a little bit of swimming. It wasn’t ten minutes of being out of the water when Marcie laid down in the grass and declared she was going to “take a nap.” I did believe her. She doesn’t take naps anymore! But before I knew it, she was passed out.
It was the sweetest thing. I sat with her head in my lap and read my book. It all made sense. And I’ve always had this theory that if you go swimming, you’ll need a nap afterwards. I’m fairly certain that on the seventh day, when God rested, it was because he had recently gone for a series of swims in all his best newly-created swimming holes.
And as I sat there with my baby sleeping, I remembered the WORST time I ever got the post-swim sleepies.
Have you ever been woken up by a woman while you were sleeping in her house IN HER NIGHTGOWN? I have.
I was 12-years-old. My brother Ryland is nine years younger than me, always has been. When Ryland was three-years-old, he made friends with Sam at our church. Sam’s parents asked if I would be interested in babysitting Ryland and Sam at their house sometime. I was PSYCHED, because not only did this mean more money in my Starter jacket pockets, but I was pretty sure they had the good fruit snacks on hand and I knew they had a pool. Our mom dropped Ryland and me off at The Henderson’s house. Our little sister Sarah, just two years younger than me, stayed with mom—in the car—and would run errands with her until it was time to pick the other two of us up. This was a Ryland/Rachel gig. I was so excited to make such easy money. Ryland ran off to Sam’s room to play with his extensive dinosaur collection while Sam’s mom—Mrs. Henderson—ran me through everything.
Mrs. Henderson was wildly pregnant and toddling around the house more than Sam was. Her hair was dirty blonde and chopped to her chin. It seemed she had maybe had the Demi Moore cut, but was growing it out now. Mrs. Henderson told me to make sure both boys had their floaties on before they got in the pool and that I watched them the ENTIRE time they were in the pool. I was ready. I would watch. I knew CPR. (I think.) I assured Mrs. Henderson I had control of everything. She was only going to be gone for three hours. Her husband was golfing and she needed to run some errands. I promised to call my mom if anything went wrong. I assured Mrs. Henderson that everything would be okay.
The boys played and played, but before long they were begging to go into the pool.
“Okay, get your bathing suits on and then I’ll help you get your floaties on.”
My brother asked, “Are you gonna swim with us?”
“No, I’m going to watch y’all. I’m the babysitter. I’m the lifeguard.”
Their pool was immaculate. It had a basketball hoop AND a slide. As soon as the buckle on Sam’s floaties clicked, he was running to the slide.
“Don’t run!” I yelled, doing the best impression of the lifeguards I’d seen at pools.
Ryland was hesitant to get in.
“What are you scared of?” I teased as I got closer to Ryland.
“Nothing! Stop!” he retorted while he inched closer to the edge.
I watched Ryland walk to the pool’s edge out of the corner of my eye while I pretended to be watching Sam come down on the slide for the second time. A wicked older-sister urge took over and I ran up to my brother to shove him into the pool. Ryland panicked and turned around mid-shove and grabbed on to my t-shirt, pulling me in with him. We both made a huge splash in the pool, me landing on top of him.
“RYLAND! What the heck!!!!!” I jumped out as soon as I landed.
“You pushed me!”
Sam was doubled-over laughing. I was in all of my clothes—Looney Tunes shirt, pink bike shorts, Hanes underwear—sopping wet. I decided to let the boys play in the shallow-end while I sat in the grass, in the Texas sun, trying to dry out my clothes. I was a professional babysitter! I couldn’t be found in sopping wet clothes!
It didn’t work. I was still soaked. After about 45 minutes of playing in the pool, I told the boys it was time to come inside for a snack and a movie—The Land Before Time. Dinosaurs, but not scary. I dried Sam off with a towel from the laundry room and then helped him into his dry clothes. I then turned to my brother and started drying him off with another towel and helped him get dressed.
“Your clothes are wet,” Ryland said so observantly.
“I KNOW that, Ryland. You two go eat your crackers and watch the movie.”
I picked up the wet towels and came up with an idea. It was about an hour until Mrs. Henderson got back, which is exactly how long it took to dry clothes in our dryer at home. I went into the laundry room and found some newly washed clothes that were in a laundry basket. I checked around quickly to make sure the boys weren’t coming and stripped down my wet clothes and threw them in the dryer with the wet towels. I grabbed a big silky nightgown with lace lining the chest from the pile of laundry and threw it over my head. It was dusty purple and HUGE on me, but I thought it was beautiful. I felt so adult and grown and secretive. No one would ever see me in it besides Ryland and Sam—I would change back into my clothes long before Mrs. Henderson got home.
Ryland and Sam didn’t even notice me enter the playroom when I sauntered in in my new gown. They were so glued to the TV, I could’ve been wearing a chicken costume and they wouldn’t have noticed. I sat on the couch at the back of the playroom and watched along with the movie for a while. Then I laid down and got real comfy, watching Ryland and Sam watching The Land Before Time.
Now I went to Texas public school, so we didn’t exactly study much science that wasn’t creationism, but I am pretty sure there is some scientific fact about how people get exponentially sleepier after getting wet. Swimming, then baking in the sun for a bit, then resting on a couch in an air-conditioned room is a sure-fire way to get ANY HUMAN to fall asleep. One could even argue that this is why people get so tired after they cry—their face is getting all wet! It’s science! You need a nap!
It wasn’t my fault. It was my brother’s fault and science’s fault. I had drifted soundly into the post-swim sleep that my body required and was likely dreaming of a world full of Fruit-by-the-Foot fountains that Joshua Jackson served me when I awoke in a startle to Mrs. Henderson sternly yelling, “Hello??!”
I jumped up. Ryland and Sam craned their heads around to look at Mrs. Henderson and then to look at me—their eyes wide and knowing that I was in trouble.
My brother then furrowed his brow, “Rachel, what are you wearing?”
“Is that my nightgown?” Mrs. Henderson asked.
“I– I– I fell in the pool.”
“She pushed me!” Ryland shouted, making things far worse than they already were—which, to be clear, if it wasn’t apparent, was BAD.
“I was drying my clothes. I– I– I’m going to grab them.”
“Where are your clothes?” Mrs. Henderson asked.
“In the dryer! I’m grabbing them right now.” I was up now, scrambling to the laundry room. I pulled my clothes out of the drying, peeling them off of the two towels that had twisted around. I ducked into the hall bathroom and put my clothes on, before catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I was beat. I had been caught. I was not a good babysitter.
I folded the nightie as well as I could and put it back in the laundry basket on top of the washing machine. I slinked out to Mrs. Henderson in the kitchen and told her I had put it back and the boys had eaten their snack. She looked at me, puzzled and disappointed, wondering if I would offer up any more information or any sort of apology. I didn’t. I was 12.
Mrs. Henderson narrowed her eyes as she handed me a ten-dollar bill. Technically, I was owed fifteen dollars, but I wasn’t going to press the issue. “Your mom should be here soon, Rachel and Ryland. Why don’t y’all wait in the front yard?”
Ryland and I sat on the front steps of their porch in silence, until I threatened him, “You better not tell Mom anything about what happened here today.”
“I won’t!”
But it didn’t matter. Even though my mom picked us up and we all rode home in complete silence, it wasn’t long before that yellow landline phone rang and it was Mrs. Henderson asking for Mom. I couldn’t even bring myself to ease-drop on the call via my parents’ phone. I knew she was telling her what happened. Something along the lines of “I found your daughter asleep on our couch in my lingerie, while she was supposed to be babysitting.”
Even when my mom hung up, she couldn’t even tell it to me straight. She couldn’t even look directly at me. She just kept shaking her head and saying, “Rachel. Rachel… what? Rachel.”
I wanted to tell her, “Mom, you know I get sleepy after I go swimming!” but I didn’t think that would fly. She probably understood, to some extent, though. She had probably watched me dozens of times, fall asleep in her lap, after going swimming. And though this time I was absolutely, 100%, out of line for falling asleep and should not have done that and entered myself in the running of world’s worst babysitter… my mom forgave me, likely because she remembered all the times I sweetly fell asleep after swimming and cuddled up with her, letting her read her book in peace for an hour or so.
A Little Woo:
OCTOBER AGAIN: I love October. I’m not necessarily a Halloween nut. But I’m not not one! It’s just nice to know the changing colors will keep changing until they fall down and rest. I like these cooler temps. The new moon SOLAR ECLIPSE in Libra tomorrow tells us to find the balance we need or it might find it for us. My horoscope for October is encouraging, telling me that I might finally finally get my feet underneath me and get some shit done/created.
Also, for the beginning of each month, I highly recommend these Tarotscopes from Megan Skinner. My card this month was the Six of Cups, which is so encouraging.
Quick Hits:
Jam of the Week: Bartees Strange – Sober.
(LOVE Bartees. also, yes, this is why it’s hard to be sober.)
All The Good Things You’ve Heard About This Show Are True.
(I love it. the chemistry is perfect. I have been craving this show and didn’t even know it.)A Friend Gave Me This Book.
(excited to add it to my stack!)I’m Going To The Grand Canyon For The First Time In My Life This Weekend.
(so excited!)
I LOVE Watching A Conflict That Ends With Respect.
(“you ate that.”)LOL.
(more Bible humor, please.)I Watched This 100x In A Row.
(the guy just leaning against the wall!)
Thank you for being here. October! Let’s do this!
xxo,
rachel.
Was laughing throughout this! Also, got to swim in the Atlantic last weekend and can confirm that a post-swim lie down in the sun was juuuuust the right thing for the moment.