Yesterday was one of those days that didn’t start off that great and didn’t end up much better. Caroline has VBS all this week and I actually had to wake her up at 8:05 a.m. so we could make it in time. You don’t know how it grieved me to wake a sleeping child, especially my child who tends to pop out of bed by 7:00 a.m. almost every morning of her life.
By the time I picked her up at noon, she was exhausted and the backseat of my car basically turned into a scene out of a Greek tragedy. Except I don’t know any Greek tragedies with a plot involving a mean mother who won’t let her child eat only french fries for lunch and develop scurvy. I guess Sophocles couldn’t imagine that anyone would have to endure that level of cruelty.
We walked in the back door and I told her to go rest on the couch while I fixed lunch. After a ham sandwich, some Scooby-Doo, and a little rest, she seemed to be ready to face the world again so we went to the pool for the afternoon.
Let’s just say that before it was all said and done I had to say, “No, we are not staying five more minutes and we are not eating dinner here. If you ask me one more time then we’re not coming back to the pool for another week.” And then drama and chaos ensued.
Note to self: Do not threaten actions that create entirely unrealistic scenarios. It’s 168 degrees outside. If we don’t go to the pool for a week, we will all certainly perish from a bad combination of heat and the stir-crazy.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy eating dinner at the pool on occasion. In fact, I find their chicken fingers to be delightful on the days they aren’t totally burned to a crisp. Not to mention, the cheeseburgers are divine but there are only so many days you can sit around in your bathing suit and eat a cheeseburger. It breaks about six laws of nature.
At the beginning of the summer, Gulley and I noticed that the pool had added popcorn shrimp to the menu. We both agreed it sounded good in theory, but worried a little bit about the care and maintenance of said shrimp. It seemed like a recipe for potential food poisoning, and heaven knows that no one is going to feel sorry for you if you get food poisoning from eating shrimp at a pool grill prepared and handled by sixteen-year-old chefs who don’t even have the sense to empty the trashcans before they become a haven for every bee in a twenty mile radius.
But then one day my friend Julie made a bold move and ordered the shrimp. P decided it looked good so he ordered some too and he and Caroline ate their shrimp while I whispered silent prayers in hopes of exorcising any salmonella demons lurking within. There were no repercussions from the shrimp and it has since become Caroline’s favorite meal at the pool.
Then I noticed the other day they’ve added salmon to their menu. It’s not like I’m a food snob. I’ve eaten my fair share of meals at Long John Silver’s and I come from a mother who has been known to eat nachos from the snackbar at Target. I just think serving salmon is asking for trouble. It’s like the pool grill is trying to be a little too big for its non-gourmet britches.
I mean this is the same dining establishment where I ordered a grilled chicken pasta salad served with a piece of ciabatta bread and got pasta mixed with Italian dressing served with half a buttered hamburger bun. Those sixteen-year-olds think they are so clever, but I know ciabatta bread when I see it and it doesn’t look like the top of a sesame seed hamburger bun.
I think they should stick to the classics; cheeseburgers, chicken fingers, hot dogs, chalupas. Leave the grilled salmon to restaurants that actually have to abide by some sort of health code. Serving fish products is a disaster waiting to happen.
Of course so is taking an exhausted five-year-old to the pool after a long day, so what do I know?