8. I Love Being A Family

Nora knows how to run a pool deck like a military operation, but motherhood? She almost never feels qualified for that job. A small moment with her family helps her remember that she might be doing alright in that department.

Transcripts may not appear in their final version and are subject to change.

INTRO MUSIC 

The summer after my Sophomore year of high school, I became a lifeguard at the Richfield Pool, the same pool I’d beg my parents to take me to during the summers of my childhood. It was a big, Olympic size pool with two twisty fiberglass waterslides at the top of four flights of concrete stairs, and a concrete building with perpetually wet floors where you could store your things in a metal basket for 25 cents or take a disgusting communal shower before you swam. No one did that, no one ever did that.

To get this job – a dream job, for sure – I first had to take a 30-hour course. I learned CPR, I learned first aid. I had to hold a hand weight and tread water for what felt like 10 minutes but might have been less. I pulled dummies with fake spinal cord injuries out of a pool without jostling their broken necks. I practiced rescuing my flailing classmates from the deep end. And with my shiny new certification, I sat through an hour long interview with a parks department employee for a first-ring Minneapolis suburb, and waited for the call telling me I was going to be a pool cop for the summer. Whistle and everything.

At no point did I complain about any of this. I loved it. I knew that my job was important. I was literally there to GUARD LIVES. And whenever people ask, but like, did you even do anything? Yeah! Yes. I did lots of things. I kicked out a grown man for repeatedly diving into the shallow end because SPINAL CORD INJURIES ARE NOT FUNNY, and I might be 16 but I have a whistle and a red Speedo and the jurisdiction to evict anyone who doesn’t follow the rules that were clearly posted at the entrance. I saved two drowning teenage boys who had overestimated their swimming abilities and jumped from the diving boards at the same time. I bandaged up scraped knees and elbows for kids who ran on the pool deck. I would drive some kids home when the pool closed because it was 8pm and they were like, 9, and that felt very young for them to be getting on the city bus in their swimsuits. 

For every job I’ve had, there has been some kind of hiring process like this: an application, a vetting, questions about my strengths and weaknesses, references to call. Except for one. A job where I’m responsible for the development of young minds, for the care and survival of young bodies. I’m talking about parenting, which, no, it’s not a job–job. It’s honestly maybe more of a … I don’t know how to categorize it, there is no LinkedIn button for it, but I can tell you that it’s the most responsibility I’ve ever had in my entire life. Basically it’s like being the only lifeguard on duty with 200 kids swarming the pool at once (which would never happen, not at my pool anyway). It is so big, it is so daunting, that sometimes my kids will say, “Hey, Mom,” and I’ll think, “What? Oh my god, are you talking to me? Me? You think I’m an adult?” 

Because what am I doing?? Who am I? You think I know what’s going on? Oh no. Oh no, am I in charge??

Our family is four children, two adults, two dogs and several insects that one of our children has decided to keep as pets in a little terrarium they built themselves. This is a blended family: my husband brought two kids from his first marriage, I brought one from mine, we made one together unexpectedly and early in our relationship. Three of our kids have lived through trauma: divorce, the death of a parent. One is just…I mean, this kid’s got it good. This kid has it good. I went into parenthood and blended parenthood with such optimism, such blind optimism, it’s almost embarrassing to think about. I truly thought, how hard can it be if people have done it since the dawn of time? How hard can it be if my grandmothers did it 9 times each! How hard can it be to love a kid and gently guide them into adulthood?

This is where I pause for laughter.

Because it’s so hard, guys. It’s so hard. It’s so wonderful, but it is SO HARD. You know this even if you don’t have kids because once you WERE a kid. It’s so hard to grow up. It’s so hard to be a grown up. It’s so hard to make sure everyone feels seen and heard and known and loved and valued, and that they’re fed and clothed and safe and going to the dentist regularly. It sometimes feels like I am back in that lifeguard chair, sitting on the edge of my seat, scanning to see if anyone is drowning or in distress. If anyone is running on the slippery pool deck or peeing in the water. It often feels like the minute I make a save or feel like everyone is doing fine … someone isn’t. And you want your family to be okay, and to be on the same team, and to support each other and not say things like, “but you NEVER take me on mom dates,” or “you always take his side!” or “no one cares about me, I never get to pick the movie!” And you have to wonder some days, oh my god am I even any good at this? If this were a paying job, would I be able to keep it? Would I be promoted? Would I be on a performance improvement plan that basically just means you’re about to get fired? 

And this podcast is not about the many ways I have spiraled out about the worst things … it is about NOT doing that so I will get to the good part and I will get to it now.

It was a school night. A regular night, the kind of night where it’s basically just a family relay race: you pick up your shoes, you let the dog out, I’ll help you with your homework, oops ask Dad I don’t know how to do long division, dinner’s on! Dinner’s done, clear the table. Load the dishwasher. Hey, did YOU have homework? Brush your teeth. Grab a book. Okay, we can watch ONE episode of the Simpsons, just one. I love nights like these, I really do. I love this big pile of seemingly insignificant moments that really make up a family, and a life. It’s so chaotic that it’s almost calming. On this night, the dogs were jumping on the couch, my husband was tripping over the shoes I definitely asked someone to put in their cubby, and out of nowhere one of our kids shouted: 

I LOVE BEING A FAMILY! And the other ones said ME TOO! 

And I stopped what I was doing – which was going to fill a water bottle for a kid who didn’t want to get up from the couch – and my husband stopped what he was doing – which was picking up the shoes that had almost killed him, and he said, “oh man, you got her.”

You got her. I was frozen because that DID get me. It totally got me!

Because I didn’t have any qualifications for this job, none! Nobody made me tread water holding a weight. Nobody asked me about my strengths and weaknesses. And I haven’t gotten a 360 review from my managers and peers, but maybe that was one? For all the mistakes and all the bad days, all the times I’ve made McDonald’s for dinner or dropped them off at school on a no-school day — that only happened once, but still. For all the times I gave them a personal TED talk when all they wanted was for me to shut up and listen … they love being a family.

OUTRO MUSIC 

I’m Nora McInerny, and It’s Going to Be Okay. 

CREDITS