Diving Bro’s Day Out

I made the mistake of encouraging my children to live their own dreams and pursue their passions. Now Diving Bro wants to study Marine Biology in college and use his diving skills for a career.

Some concerns that I have about this career choice:

• Average pay for a Marine Biologist is $45,000.  But it’s okay, Diving Bro already loves Ramen and rice.  Just hope a big family…or a big dog were not on his life check lists.

• A jillion hours out on the water under the sun. He’s my kid, and even with the only paternal legacy left to him being 50% Moroccan melanin, he’s still a white boy.  And now apparently all the things that go on skin to protect it from skin cancer cause all the other cancers, deep sigh.  Maybe he can wear one of those old timey ladies' swimsuits and a Gilligan hat all the time.

• Close proximity to water creatures and the potential to be eaten. Know how many times I’ve almost been eaten in my 20+ years in public health? None. No chance of it even.  And Shark Week comes (also known as June on all coasts of Florida) and I’m all, “Dang it man, I can’t even put my toes in the water.” Diving Bro is all like, “Those are most likely Bull Sharks and it’s hunting and mating season for them in those waters. People should respect that. I wish I was there to see them!” Hard nope from the parental side.

That’s my short list of reservations.  The long list is mind numbing for anyone who is not me.

But Mom me, not Me me, is again encouraging my kids to be themselves, blah blah blah.  This led to a Spring Break trip to California and Oregon for college tours to find his dream school. His dream is now to be a Banana Slug. We bought the slippers.

UC Santa Cruz is his dream.  Redwoods with a view of the ocean, marine research opportunities where he can use his diving skills as an undergrad, family less than 45 minutes away, and his luxuriously long locks will not stand out the way they do in suburban Georgia. Diving Bro could find a whole tribe of Diving Bros and Surfer Bros and Nature Bros.

He’s an excellent student, not just a Diving Bro, so he excels in his Honors and APs and IBs.  His next two years are focused on mastering the other acronyms that matter, ACTs, SATs, not getting STDs or DUIs.  Mom me will be using the next 2 years to figure out how to pay for his transition to Banana Slug.

Being the outdoorsy guy that he is, he’s spending this summer lifeguarding.  Unfortunately, the uniform is not the sun protective old timey ladies' swimsuit, but small red shorts with white lifeguard shirt optional. He usually chooses option B, no shirt.  Before he started this job, we joked about how since he doesn’t look like the 15 years old that he is, he’ll get hit on by old ladies (read that as any woman from 18-78). And alas, that has come to pass, much to our family’s amusement.  Cue Stiffler’s mom jokes at the dinner table.

But just the other day Diving/Lifeguard Bro was pulled to a different pool to cover a shift after a coworker called out.  It’s the Rich People Pool you guys!!  The pool at the country club where you can order drinks to be delivered to your cabana while the nannies get sunburned watching the kids.  LIGHTBULB! 

Me to Diving Bro, “Duuuuuuuuddddde!  If you’re getting hit on by old women anyway, make it a Real Housewives of Rich People Pool situation!”

Diving Bro, “Gross, no.”

Me to Diving Bro, “But if you were gonna get you a Sugar Mama THIS IS THE PLACE!”

Diving Bro, blank stare at his insane mother

Me to Diving Bro with enthusiasm, “THEY COULD PAY YOUR COLLEGE TUITION!”

Diving Bro exiting the vehicle, “I’ll consider it.  Could have potential.”

That’s my boy.  Who needs scholarships when a high school career as a cabana boy is in the cards.  Now on to plot for the future of the 4 younger kids.