The worst. mom. ever.

If you have never had a kid on the swim team, stop reading. You will never be able to sympathize with the early morning practices, the endless meets, the drama! You won't be able to comprehend the bone chilling cold that occurs during the Ohio summer, when the sun goes down and your wet 10-year-old hops onto your lap in an attempt to thaw. You won't understand the drain on your wallet, one dollar at a time, as your child attempts to recover calories at the snack bar that he/she has lost during a race.

I, however, cannot miss a moment of the excitement. I rise every morning at the crack of dawn to cajole my children out of their warm beds and into their damp suits. I pad their palms with dollar bills and fill their gas tanks, so they can spend their summer mornings in the swimming pool. I dutifully go to work each day so that I can buy pool passes, and swim suits, and caps and goggles. And more goggles. And then more goggles.

I arrive at the swim meets at 4:45pm every Wednesday (well, 4:55pm), and I weave my way through the sea of chairs and blankets, picnic coolers and wet bodies, until I find a space on the (always damp) grass where I can place my chair. I sit close to other parents we chat mindlessly until a child, who has long since passed the age where they can comfortably fit on a lap, plops their wet frame on top of me and asks for money. I oblige, knowing they will disappear only until they are hungry, or cold enough that they need to find the lap once again. I do this each and every week, all summer long, no matter the weather. When it rains, we stand at the side of the pool and cheer, hoping silently that we will see a flash of lightning.....the absolute only thing that will stop a swim meet.

Despite this level of committment, I made a major faux pas tonight. **gasp** I missed 30 minutes of the swim meet. I will make no excuses: I wanted some time to myself. The meet was very close to my house, and I dropped the kids off for warm-ups while I went home to do nothing at all. I surfed the internet, answered some e-mails, and blogged a little while waiting for my husband to come home from work and go to the meet with me. Although the meet was slated to start at 6pm, I didn't even leave the house until 6:20pm.

By 6:30pm, all three of the kids had called me from their cell phones, and I came to the most amazing realization: They need me! They do know when I'm not there! They do care if I'm present! They need my money!! And I am the worst. mom. ever.