Summer has rolled back around.  Pools are open.  Days are endless.  It’s everything we’ve waited for.  Wished for.  And now we are free.

Depending on your age, being free has different meanings.  There’s the freedom the kids feel when the last school bell rings and they’re dismissed.  There’s the freedom they feel when they go to the snack bar at the pool by themselves to buy a candy bar.  And then, there’s the freedom we mothers feel when we are no longer held prisoner by the pool.

It is the moment when we are freed from the bathing suit.

Last summer, I tasted the freedom. This summer, it’s official.  I am no longer required to be in the pool, on the edge of the pool or even within a splash’s distance.  

Don’t misunderstand.  I’ll still diligently watch Big Guy and Little Guy. I need to make sure there aren’t any knock down, drag out, potential drownings in the shallow end. But they don’t want me too close.

So I can sit in a chair underneath an umbrella, shielded from the sun with lots and lots of sunscreen.  And a hat.  In a T-shirt and shorts.

This moment could not have come at a better time.  As we know, it doesn’t matter how much we exercise or how healthy we eat.  There comes a point that no matter how carefully we care for ourselves, nearly 40-year-old skin is nearly 40-year-old skin.  And, for the majority of us (of course, there are always exceptions) what may look fabulous covered up with a great pair of jeans and a cute tank, doesn’t look quite as good in the near buff.

Don’t get upset with me. I’m not saying we’re old. Or ugly. It’s not about our size. We can be sexy.  Sassy.  Even hot. With all of our shapes. I’m not saying we can’t cool off on a hot day. And all bets are off when it’s a family beach trip.  It’s fine to let it all hang out.

But an old friend of mine said it best. It’s just not our time anymore.  After a certain point, when it comes to strutting around the pool in our bathing suits, we need to realize that our ship has sailed.  It’s time to pass that torch to the younger generation.

Thank goodnesss my boys are at ages that have allowed me to do this.

It’s freeing to know I don’t have to buy a new mom suit.  You know the one.  With the skirt.  I no longer have to consider how to strategically place my thigh on the side of the pool in a way that will hide the cellulite (thick or thin, we have it) while I dip my legs in the shallow end to play catch. I don’t have to suck in the pooch that will come out of hiding when I bend over to pick up a towel.

I jest, for surely I wasn’t thinking about all this a few years ago when I was running around the pool keeping up with Little Guy and Big Guy.  It was actually all of that running that made me not care and made me not wonder how my butt looked from behind. I was too busy making sure no one fell in the pool.  Or swallowed a mouthful of water. Or skinned a toe from running on the pavement.  I was too busy cheering on handstands and letting them swim between my legs.

This summer, as I watch the younger moms chase their younger children, I won’t think about how much work that time was.  I will not be thankful for no longer having to lug that extra large pool bag, complete with snacks and toys. Those years with my boys were amazing.

I’ll just be thankful for not having to put on a bathing suit.

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.