In the life of a chauffeur mama, it doesn’t get much better than this.

Pass.

Pass.

Pass.

I know you are all over thinking that this is totally NBD, but you are wrong. The mere feat of getting all three of my children—who are at various levels of swim—in the pool at the same time on the same day, well, let’s just say that their parents should be medalled. It requires studying (the rec center book), rearranging (our schedules), speed (it’s first come, first serve you know), and patience (it’s a hurry up and wait process to make it into your preferred classes). MEDAL, I need one.

And then there’s the locker room problem—too old for the family change room, one too many penises for the ladies change room, tweenage privacy issues, pre-swim shower meltdowns.

And then, if you recall, there’s the Josh problem. My son, until this summer, was deathly afraid of the water, and spent at least eight sessions in swimmer level 1, including a few private one-on-one classes.

And then there are the pool foulings (Seriously, could they not call them something else? FOULING? Really?) which mean a full sweep of the pool, including removing the swimmers. No class today, you guys, pool was fouled. Go on, ask Emily to tell you what happens to her momentum and concentration (and her mother’s blood pressure) when a girl in her class pukes in the pool. Go on. I dare you.

Sure, those cute little faces make it look easy, but I assure you. This was not.

Bring on the cupcakes.

Until the schedule for next session comes out.