I am at my most emotionally clumsy when it comes to: Difficult and Cumbersome.

My children are Difficult and Cumbersome.

Wait. I have to tell this from the beginning. It’s been a long cold wet winter. I mean not-normal kind of cold. Climate change, get the eff out of my backyard and go melt Antarctica already. So as a way to get the kids out of the house and moving in this bleak environment we have joined the Georgia Tech Rec Center.

First, I don’t know why they call it a “Rec Center.” I think it should be called the Super Galactic Engineering Marvel that dropped out of the sky during the Olympics as a gift from the gods. SGEM for short. Well, maybe Rec Center is a better name. It’s an amazing facility. Three indoor pools (one with a Disney-like waterslide), a running track, all manner of ball courts, indoor rock climbing wall, glassed-in rooms for pilates and tai chi and kickboxing, etc., a sea of every conceivable piece of exercise equipment ever manufactured. It is more or less my own personal hell. I don’t do work out stuff.

Second, this is an exclusive Super Galactic Engineering Marvel. Not just anyone can join. But Scott, being an alumni, has the mark of the beast that allowed us access. We had to go to some Student Center building and get our pictures taken for Georgia Tech Buzz Cards. Buzz. Cards. Could they have a gayer mascot than a bumblebee? I mean Yellow Jacket? I feel like I’m cheating on my tribe. It’s shameful. I’m sorry Clemson. I know, I never even set foot inside the Athletic Center, or Exercise Building, or whatever it was called when I was there and now I’m off to the shiny bumblebee seductress every day. Hangs head in shame.

So anyway it’s cold. And we’ve been taking the kids to the pool to swim. It is difficult and cumbersome.

This is a college campus so of course there’s nowhere to park. So we trod to the Rec Center through the cold and then work our way through the building to the  über fun indoor pool with the Disney-like waterslide. As we enter the hot humid room the girls rush to dump their coats, scarves, Uggs, socks, pants, and shirts then they dive in. No, first they dump out my meticulously packed pool bag to find their goggles, then they dive in.

I refold and meticulously repack their coats, scarves, Uggs, socks, pants, and shirts into the bag. Then I sit in the tropical air in my jeans and sweater and read. That part is good. I need to remember to wear shorts next time, but the reading alone while the kids play is good. Scott swims laps, plays with the kids in the water, goes down the slide while they clap for him. I have already put in enough man hours in the pool with the kids and will never ever again in my life have to get in the pool with them. Ever.

When it’s time to go Scott gives the girls a stern talking-to in his daddy voice about taking responsibility for themselves. Getting themselves dried and dressed. Remembering all of their stuff. They nod. He winks at me over their heads as if to say, See? All you have to do is parent them into remembering to be responsible. Then he walks off to the men’s locker room forgetting his own coat and scarf. The girls run to the women’s locker room forgetting everything else.

Sigh. . .

I pick up the bag, the towels, the coats and scarves, the shoes. The shoes. The shoes.

It is cumbersome.

Once in the locker room I tell the girls, You’re already wet. Just jump in the shower and wash your hair and we’ll check off “Bath Night.”  Ew, this shower has a hair in it! This one has a towel in it! How does the handle work? I can’t turn it on. It’s on too hard. It’s too cold. It’s too hot. Move Parker! Move Tempel! Mooooommmmm! I need a new towel. Not that towel. I’ll just drip dry. Don’t brush my hair. My hair is dripping. My clothes will get wet. She touched my towel. This shirt feels funny. I don’t want socks. I can’t get my shoes on. I’m hot! I’m cold! Carry this. Carry this. Carry this.

The locker room is difficult. And cumbersome. There is a lot to carry.

We run to the car in the dark with our cold girls and their wet hair while they complain about the cold and the wet. I’m trying to figure out how to get them fed and in bed in the next thirty minutes. It’s a school night. I have wrenched my bad wrist carrying the overstuffed pool bag. I am sitting in the car with the whole load of coats and scarves that they won’t wear because they don’t want them to get wet on my lap. I look over at Scott (who strolled out of the men’s locker room alone looking refreshed and happy) he is smiling in the dim light of the car, “Isn’t this the greatest idea I ever had?”

I readjust the pool bag at my feet, ignore the kids groaning about being hungry in the backseat, shift the coats in my lap and look at that big smile on his face. It’s wonderful that he sees all of the good and warm and fuzzy stuff. Why can’t I do that? Oh yeah, because I am at my most emotionally clumsy when it comes to difficult and cumbersome. But I should take a deep breath and enjoy the moment with him.

I look over at his happy smiling face. Then I smack him on the back of the head. “No, dumbass! It is difficult and cumbersome! And next time? Next time, all of our children will be male and they’ll go to your locker room and you’ll have to carry all the shit!”

What? I said I was clumsy.