So my son has started swim lessons (“swim” is a very relative word if describing what he is learning). We have signed up for four Fridays with his little girlfriend (at least that is how he thinks of her, their relationship is very up and down, if it would be on Facebook it would be deemed “complicated”)
Even if our boy actually did great in his first lessons (blowing bubbles, got his hair wet, his hands turned into big “ice cream scopes”) he has (dare I say it) gone down hill from there.
Their first lesson, his friend announced when being asked to do something (nothing unreasonable mind you but all related to “fun in the water”) that “I don’t do that” while my son announced that “I have poop in my pants”. Oh, the joy of teaching four year olds how to swim!
The swim coach, miss J is a very fit (major body envy) late teen/early twenties girl with long blond hair and a ton of patience (must be a prerequisite). Her patience is tested over and over (let me tell you) and seems to be a requirement with my son especially (“lots and lots of poopy”)
After their lesson (when all adults involved feel slightly frustrated and very tired) we get to have some “relaxed” pool time. Please don’t ever confuse this with the relaxed pool time you had pre-kids (maybe this is what miss Jen now gets to enjoy, hence her patience with our kids), you know the laying by the pool for hours with your magazine or your summery romance novel, cell phone and water bottle (or maybe even a “real” drink), your only worries being “when do I have to flip over/re-apply sun tan lotion/take a dip in the pool/go for a leisurely stroll to look for hotties or flirt with the life guard and maybe when is lunch?”
Gossiping with your bestie while inhaling the latest drama waiting for the random clouds to pass is nothing in comparison to trying to get a word of conversation in to your fellow mama while your simultaneously try to keep your children from killing each other, or themselves by drowning/keeping your baby from flashing your mom boobs (btw not sexy) to the life guard, the teenage boys in the big pool and your elderly neighbor “well, hello there”.
Relaxed pool time post kids means keeping them alive at all costs (no, you don’t just continue walking straight into the deep hot tub without floaters on, run like a maniac by the big pool or push your friend off the pool stairs). There are also snacks involved, and water and juice and breast milk (limited) and pool toys and pool rules and ice cream (“may I have some pleeeeaaase!) and sticky, thick suntan lotion (reapply every hour or after being in the water…), paying attention to sun and shade and hats and floaters and “don”t fall”, “don’t splash”, “don’t run”, and “don’t pee in the pool”.
And the dos “do be nice to your friend, sister, friend’s mom, walk, share your toys, practice swimming and shower after pool”.
And the constant reminders of everything above in a never ending cycle like a broken record featuring “b*tich mom” or your most annoying CD set on repeat, adding “you CANNOT swim….yet”
When us moms do get a word in to each other, sweat dripping down our foreheads (not just from the sun mind you) and our minds in constant “hyper alert fight/flight mode” we talk about our kids (especially mine) and their fondness for potty words. I mean at a time in their life where they are being so good for finally learning how to go potty “good job” (hold the fireworks) and they are being praised endlessly for “doing” the words we then frown upon, does that even make sense? “Do you need to poop or pee?” “Good job peeing/pooping”, “wow lots of poo, great job, high five”, “you went poop at the mall, yaaaay!!” But then we turn around saying “do not say “potty words”, poop is bad, very bad and not funny, bad bad. Hmm, isn’t that slightly confusing?
Today was our last day together at the pool, we celebrated (like always) with ice cream, the kids were mostly friends and “in love” with their “bestest girl/boy” (ganging up against some “outside threats” instead) my boy did better than last time “swimming” and no law suits were being discussed over the swim coach “hickey”. All kids running around in the grass pretending to “turn their mothers into ice, fire and rocks” and only minor melt downs over the low milk supply provided (baby not boy) and not getting to have lunch with his bestest girl (definitely boy).
A great day over all and tomorrow is the 4th of July, and there is still lots of summer left! Can life be better!?