Congratulations, Michael Phelps’ mom. You can officially retire. You can finally rest easy knowing that your work is done. You are never going to have to run out to Target again to buy your son a new pair of goggles. You know, to replace the nine millionth pair of goggles that have broken, leaked, or that your son has lost. Yet, somehow, it’s all your fault. How could you have ever expected your most decorated Olympic swimming son to jump into a pool of chlorinated water without protecting his precious abs? I mean eyes. His eyes. With a pair of Speedo goggles.

I’ve watched the Olympics differently this go around. I’ve looked on as a mother. I’ve bitten off nails. I’ve jumped off the couch and stared at the screen, anticipating the moments where your son adjusts, then readjusts his goggles. I’ve never doubted his swimming talents. We’ve all been mesmerized by his dolphin-like ability to glide in and out of the water. So beautifully. Like some sort of waterproof robot. A robot that desperately needs those Speedo goggles to stay in place.

That’s where you and I share a special bond, Michael Phelps’ mom. I have three sons that swim too. Not quite at the same level as your son. Nonetheless, they need their goggles just like your son. When it’s time to jump in the pool, the pressure is on. It’s all on me. I’m sure you remember the days. I’m there semi-willing to adjust. Readjust, then SNAP, break the crap out of their cheap ass goggles. Because let’s face it, Michael Phelps’ mom, my son’s Speedo goggles are not like your son’s. The Target employee kindly gave me the cartwheel discount for my sons’ goggles, but it was all downhill from that point on.

A casual day at the pool turned into a sad broken goggle fest. Come on, Speedo, for crying outloud…we can’t all be Michael Phelps! Why, oh why must non-Olympian kids risk getting red, itchy eyes accompanied by all the tears and the repeated exclamations, “MY EYES. MY EYES. Mommy, my eyes hurt SOOOO bad.”

“Well, boys, that’s because Michael Phelps’ mom bought all of the good googles.”

I’m sorry, Michael Phelps’ mom. My irrational response never works to soothe their zombie eyes. But somehow it makes me feel like a better mom in the heat of the moment.

“Cheer up, kids. Wasn’t it cool how he won all of those gold medals? That’s because Speedo sold all of their cheap and poorly made goggles to kids like you so they could spend all of their time working on Michael Phelps’s precious golden Olympic medal googles.”

There. There.

So, now that your son is done swimming and your grandson will surely never so much as dip a toe in a chorinated pool, because well, that’s a lot of pressure being Michael Phelps’ son, can you spare a few pairs of the good Speedo goggles to a fellow mom? I promise I won’t sell them on eBay.

And if I did, it would only be to buy more cheap ass goggles. From Target.