Swimming Lessons

Ahhhhhh, summer.  Lazing by the pool.  Or wishing you were lazing by a pool.  Except once you are a mom, there is the terror that is instilled in you by little old ladies (and maybe your mother-in-law) coming up to you in grocery stores to say "Never take your eyes off of them near the water, dear.  It only takes a second for them to drown!  My cousin's aunt's best friend's neighbor lost not one BUT TWO of her children because one jumped in to save the other and they both died."  Yes, I have heard this kind of thing from multiple people, even someone I barely know calling me up out of the blue when she heard there was a small pond on our property.  Then there is that article circulating on facebook (and I have kept it going several times myself, YOU'RE WELCOME FRIENDS) called Drowning Doesn't Look Like Drowning, or some other equally sleep-preventing kind of title.

Anyway, I spent enough nights lying awake sobbing until my hair was soaked while my husband snored next to me as I imagined my kids drowning (see, Sue, you really need to use your imagination more when you lie awake sobbing!) that when my husband said the kids needed swim lessons, I was able to put aside my incredible cheapness and sit down and write out a check to the local pool.  For 3 kids.  Ouch.

Now.  When you sign 3 or more kids up for daily swimming lessons, you get the corner on the market on Crazy.  I did swimming lessons last year, but did I learn??  Nooooooooo.  This year I thought "hey, this is one thing Stefan was very emphatic about last year, and it wasn't that bad, and this time I won't schedule guitar lessons that are 40 minutes away for the time slot that is 30 minutes after swim lessons are over so it will all be ok."  (Yes, I really do talk to myself like that.  Don't judge.  I'm the only person who listens to me.)  Wait, I actually *did* learn that my then-11yo-daughter WILL cry in public when forced to take swim lessons, and that the people at my local pool feel no compunction about staring at her AND AT ME (what's that about?!?! She's the one crying, look at her!  I'm completely normal.) when she does that, so I at least was smart enough (or beaten enough) to not sign her up this year.

All seemed like it was going to go well until about 7pm on the first day of lessons.  That is when I remembered that there were lessons.  Or rather, had been lessons.  At 1030 that morning.

Sigh.

OK, so we regrouped, and we made it to the second day of lessons 5 minutes early.  My sweet, serious, kind-of-a-worrier 10yo can swim just fine, but I knew he would fuss like a toddler if he was slighted, so I signed him up for an advanced class.  He went off happily and can now swim better than I can.  I made the mistake of telling him so, and after his first flush of joy and pride, I could see him start to worry about me.  I might have to listen to a summer of swimming pointers now.

My 4yo is full of bounces, charm, smiles and daring. I was pretty sure swim lessons were going to be a breeze with him. What I wasn't prepared for, however, is that the instructors sometimes take their eyes off of my precious baby boy. Have they not read Drowning Doesn't Look Like Drowning?????  Yes, I was that mom that stood at the side of the pool prepared to dive in if need be.  For just one day, anyway.  I was gradually persuaded that my little guy would live if I sat down by the realization that, thanks to my husband's DNA, he's quite tall for his age, and as long as he remembers to put his feet down, will probably survive the occaisional moments of inattention from an otherwise very good group of swim instructors.  In fact, my bold little guy went down the huge slide into the deep pool TWICE at the graduation ceremony on the last day.  Yes, he was caught by an instructor, but those instructors let them go under before they catch them!  (Can you tell that my mama-heart is still beating a little fast over that?)  There was also the small issue of the hypothermia that the poor baby suffered from within 15 minutes of entering the water every day.  I mean, he was shivering so badly he couldn't even keep his hands clasped above his head when they had to show their "long arms"!  Driving home every day in 90+ degree heat with the heater blasting in the back seat did nothing to lower my crazy level, I can tell you.

Which leaves my 7yo.  Who looks like a born swimmer.  Really.  He looks like Michael Phelps.  His arms are gi-normous.  His elbows come above his head, for crying out loud.  He's solid muscle.  But therein lies at least part of the problem.  He is indeed SOLID.  And he seems to maybe possibly probably OK definitely lack the ability to do more than one thing at a time.  So last year, he was a full head taller than everybody in his swimming group, and the only one who looked like he was getting towed through the water sitting up when the instructors tried to get him to lie back on the water in preparation for learning the backstroke.  Every now and then the very patient instructors (who also apparently were devoid of a sense of humor since I never once saw them even cracking a smile at my weird child) were able to get my son to put his head back into the water.  And then, I kid you not, his legs would stick straight up into the air.  Even I, as his mother, was laughing.  And also wondering if I could just drop him off somehow so nobody would know I was w/ him.  ;)

OK, so, this year I was prepared.  I was not surprised that he was still in the same lesson group, only now he was with the kids who were infants last year.  (I mean, really, how are moms sending their itty-bitty babies into these dangerous places with limited oxygen under the supervision of strangers!?)  He was now a head, and shoulders, and a bit of torso above his classmates.  But he still possessed the same stubborn determination not to let the instructors drown him i.e. get his head wet that he did last year.  Those little kickboards that other children can hang onto and stay afloat while they kick?  Oh not my kid.  He NEEDED those instructors to keep a hold on him or he was going under.  Like a stone.  I consoled myself I was getting my money's worth in life preservation even if he wasn't learning to swim.

Then, on the second-to-last day, he came home and said in a very resigned voice, "Well, those people kept telling me to blow bubbles and put one side of face in the water and then the other, and I could tell they were just NOT going to be happy until I got my head wet, so I did it."

I admit it.  I laughed out loud.  Right in front of him.  And I was proud of him (and told him so).  A small step compared to my other kids - maybe most kids - but a big one for him.  And on the last day of class, when he actually got stretched out straight in the water horizontally and did about three kicks w/ a kickboard way out in front of him (instead of under him) and didn't go under, well, I went way past proud.  I'm amazed.  And hopeful that this newfound ability will stick w/ him until we go back for Round 2 next week.

So.  It turns out I'm not that crazy after all.  Or maybe I should say not yet.  Because I'm pretty sure they didn't really work on the backstroke this week.

~Stephanie