You know how we all daydream about being a bad, criminal fighting, kickboxing, super girl?

Wait, it that just me?

Well, I do daydream about it.  Quite often.  I loved Jennifer Garner in Alias, and James Patterson’s Lindsay Boxer is on my “if I were cool enough” list.

I love kickboxing, self defense, and I am my father’s daughter.

My dad….good ole dad.  Gary, just Gary.  No middle name.

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Coincidentally,  that’s him in the middle right there.  Big guy, big heart.

I’m not quite sure how he became a worry-wart.  I remember him being fairly carefree when we were little.  I think my wreck (in college) didn’t help things.  I just know that all of a sudden, he could spin a worst case scenario like Steven King can spin a sci-fi thriller.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love him.  Adore him, even.

So last week when I took the kids swimming at their place, and he called from the house, “Check those skimmers for snakes, k?”, I chuckled, and of course, I checked.

Both skimmers.  Thoroughly.

The kids hopped right in, Gray playing and Ava immediately jumping into the water and kick-kick-kicking to Papa.

I love it when she kick-kick-kicks.

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And being a child myself, I headed to the diving board to impress everyone.  I’d like to think my dive-flip combo is entertaining, in the least.

I remember swimming under water for a while before coming up for air.  Here’s where I digress….the summer I turned twelve, my family watched the movie, Jaws.  You know where this is going.

I didn’t bathe for a year without worrying a shark would come through the drain and eat me alive.

And even now, as much as I love the water, I’m a bit paranoid.  (didn’t help that we had to ski-daddle out of the ocean away from a shark when I was prego with Ava)

So I remember swimming around and thinking, “huh.  wouldn’t it be terrible if there was a snake or something in here?”

Here’s where you’ve gotta put on your imagination goggles.

Imagine our family friend, Tiki, yelling, “SNAAAAKKKEEEE!!! GET OUT OF THE WATER…GET THE BABIES OUT OF THE WATER!”

Imagine me, cloaked in the spirit of Jennifer Garner (with less grace), grasping the side of the pool and hauling myself out so hard I scraped every single part of my front on the stucco pool surround.

Imagine me there, bleeding and idiotic, flopping up onto the side.  Now imagine me spin around on said scraped belly, catapulting Gray out of the water.

Now imagine me limping as I usher him up next to the house.

Imagine me finally remember I have a daughter, scanning the water to see if she made it out.  On her own?  What was I thinking?? 

Ava’s good….crazy-paranoid-worrisome-RIGHT Dad has got her.

Imagine me (bleeding and skin stinging) standing up by the house while Tiki and Dad tag team to kill the snake.

Imagine me have a slight heart palpatation when Tiki screams as she’s hauling the snake to the woods.  It wriggled.  It was still dead.

False alarm.

We check the skimmers….again.

Imagine us slowly creep back into the pool, me worried about what creature will smell the blood in the water.

Imagine me watching over my shoulder the ENTIRE time we swim that afternoon.

Imagine me lose 17 years off of my life that day.

I’m sort of scared to take a bath again.  Only this time I’ve got the scrapes to prove it.

*You can take your imagination goggles off now–please feel free to delete said imaginative images from your mind and share with no one.  Here’s to a snake-free weekend.

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