Tag: swimming

Swim Lessons, Crying and a Mom’s Camera

Swim Lessons, Crying and a Mom’s Camera

water

So our four-year-old son finally started swim lessons last week. It was not pretty. I knew he would be anxious, try to cling to me a bit, protest the pool and grip the side with trepidation, but I certainly wasn’t prepared for what actually transpired.

I’m afraid I have a “thinker” on my hands here; and unfortunately, he had lots of time to dream up all kinds of near-death scenarios that might occur at the hands of some unknown swim instructor in the depths of a large public pool. During the days leading up to his first lesson, our little guy asked lots of questions and played out certain events, which included him sinking to the bottom of the pool or choking on loads of water. Finally he voiced his ultimate fear as I pulled on his swim trunks for the evening. He simply looked at me and said, “I don’t want to die,” then burst into tears. Talk about breaking a mother’s heart. I wanted to call off the whole thing then and there and make all his fears magically go away; but instead, I just held him in my arms and made promises I was fairly sure I could keep.

As we waited for lessons to begin, he excitedly watched older kids swim laps and splash around in the water, but I could still see those wheels turning in his head. He admitted it looked like fun, but he also said he was nervous. I tried to rest his fears again, knowing that learning to swim would be best for him. . . someday.  Talk about “tough love.”

Lessons started right on time, and that is when it all when downhill. When the perky young swim instructor tried to take his hand, he instead reached for mine. As I tried to coax him into going with her, the tears started flowing. With her approval I walked my bawling and red blotchy-faced boy to the other side of the pool and tried to help him into the instructor’s arms. Nope, nothin’ doing. Again, thoughts of calling off the whole thing entered my mind, but I quickly pushed them aside and got down to business. In as comforting a voice and manner as possible, I forced my child into the innocent-looking swimming pool. While all (I mean every last one of) the other children easily grasped the metal trough, smiled and blew bubbles, my son clawed his way up to the cement rim, hung on with both arms and refused to move.

At this point, what’s a good mom suppose to do? I handed the reins to the instructor, slowly backed away from the pool. . . and whipped out the camera. Yep, as if the little love of my life wasn’t traumatized enough, I proceeded to add insult to injury, perhaps scar him for life, and capture the whole thing in pictures (at least I didn’t film it). I know I should be ashamed of myself, learn a life lesson and yadda, yadda, yadda. . . but I got this really good shot of him with a big ol’ tear running down his cheek.

I’d like to think that one day (when he’s doing swan dives on his own) he will forgive me, be thankful and forget that any of this ever happened. . . but of course I always have the photos to remind him.

 
photo credit: Drop Aqua via photopin (license)

Daddy Loves Water Babies, Momma Hates Shaving

It’s Water Babies time again, and I think I’ve finally figured out why my husband gets so excited that I’m taking our son to the pool each week. I suspect he isn’t really excited that my son seems to actually enjoy the water, or that I get to have some bonding time with our little one, or even that our son is one step closer to learning to swim. I’m thinking, now I could be wrong here, but I’m thinking it’s because I shave. . . everywhere.

Now mind you, it’s not like I haven’t shaved at least a few appropriate spots all winter. I don’t totally embrace my French heritage (I love the French, by the way) and go all natural. My underarms do get a good shearing at least twice a week. [If this is all T.M.I., you have my permission to stop reading here and just move onto one of my other reviting posts here at Small Talk Mama.]

My legs, on the other hand, do not feel a razor quite as often during the winter. When you’re one of those dark-headed gals who has a five o’clock leg shadow at the end of the day, you tend to give the shaving a break during the cold months. And of course, you never know when you might get caught in a snow storm and need that extra insulation to survive a very cold night. Am I right?

Then there is the bikini line – appropriately named, I think. Regardless of my husband’s references to Gallagher, why should I have to shave my bikini line if I am not wearing a bikini, or any other type of swimsuit for that matter. There will be enough shaving and itching (you ladies know of what I speak) when springtime and summer come around each year. I’ve tried other hair removal techniques for this area, but waxing where the sun don’t shine just doesn’t cut it in my book.

No, the honeymoon is not over, so to speak; but I’m not making any apologies or promises related to my shaving habits. In fact, I think it’s rather sexy when my husband doesn’t shave for a few days, so what’s a few months?