It Is What It Is: Foreman Always Wins

Yesterday was Father's Day, and although my celebration for Joel took place last week with a surprise dinner out, tickets to a comedy show and dueling pianos at the Piano Lounge, the "official" Father's Day brought with it plenty of excitement.

After a rather uneventful morning spent mainly away from our house, we decided that when the boys were up from their naps we would pull out the sprinkler and water table to let them burn off some of their excessive energy. I convinced Joel to abandon the air conditioning and sit outside with me while the boys played in the yard.

Ever had an idea? An idea you thought would play out a certain way, but instead took on a life of its own? It happened to me. I imagined a picture-perfect afternoon spent outside; my husband and I chatting away while my children gently splashed and giggled in the cool mist of the sprinkler.

Yeah, right.

Instead, when the afternoon was said and done, I looked like this:

And Joel looked like this.

Dry as a bone. It's my own fault, really. As Joel always tells his students, "Foreman Always Wins". But I'm a Foreman, too, right? Legally, perhaps. But not by blood, and as we know, blood is thicker than... that's right, water. So how did it happen? It all started with Willy.

If you're like me, there are a handful of items that you have clung to because they ooze memories of childhood. The smell of the plastic, the feel of the water on my skin, the sound of feet splashing in wet summer grass; all are a permanent part of me. How fun, I thought, will it be to share this piece of nostalgia with my own boys? They will squeal with delight and play for hours on end. NOT!

Although Cael is a tough-as-nails kid, when it comes to water he is reduced to a quivering puddle. Which is fitting, because that's about the only body of water he would consider entering. He has an irrational fear of water in his eyes, even in the bathtub, which has evolved into a general avoidance of water or all things wet. So what do we do with a sunny June day?

Dump water on the kid.

Seriously, he has to toughen up a bit. What better way to tackle a fear than to face it head on? After 10 minutes of circling the water table like a pregnant woman at an all-you-can-eat buffet, (yes, I've been there) Joel took matters into his own hands. Something had to be done.

My sweet, quiet Graham took the full-on naval attack just as I would have predicted. He toddled back and forth from the water table to the firetruck and back to visit us in our lawn chairs. He smiled, laughed a time or two, but more or less seemed not to notice what was taking place. This, of course, made him the easiest target for Cael and Daddy-- Cael because he needed to exercise his dominance over someone, and Daddy because, well... Foreman Always Wins. Sensing a theme? Cael eased into things, eventually accepting the occasional splash as he understood that by sustaining a hit, he, in turn, was allowed to splash Graham.

I had been particularly careful to guard my phone and camera from the incoming tsunami waves, but as the boys were winding down and enjoying their last few, wet moments with the water table, I let my guard down. I walked away from my chair and technological companions which had served as my protection, and in one swift motion, a large measuring cup filled with what felt like a swimming pool's worth of ice water poured over my face and drenched my clothes.

Oh, it was ON.

I put up a good fight. Really, I did. Without possession of the hose or the larger buckets, my offensive strikes were pathetic at best-- trying to shake out poor Willy and empty the remaining water over my husband's head, scooping up handfuls of water from the lake that had formed in the yard to chuck at him or even ringing my shirt out over him. The dog, always underfoot, tucked in his panting tongue and made a quick exit while somewhere in the background I could hear Cael shouting,

"Stop it you guys!" Does he think we're fighting? Better dump some more water over that curly head to let him know it's still a game.

Once the hose was turned up to full strength and then turned on me, there was no hope. I latched on to him hoping that at the very least he could get wet from my drenched clothing, but even that was ineffective. The scene must have been comical; Joel practically waterboarding me, me unable to give up my secrets and frantically flicking water at him off my fingertips. Yeah, that will do it.

After the waters had receded, I was down, defeated and forced to accept the one unwavering truth-- Foreman Always Wins. I say these words with a heavy heart, but one still bursting with love for my family; especially on days like this. There was a lot of goofiness...