Swim lessons
My kids get swim lessons every summer since I’d really like for them to not drown. Locally swim lessons are run in two week long sessions during which the kids attend every week day. I’d much prefer going once a week all summer long. Oh well. The kids love swim lessons. My feelings are more mixed. Getting four kids ready to go anywhere is a challenge even when it doesn’t require all of them to change clothes completely. So for 30 minutes prior to departure I scramble to find all the necessary swimsuits, swimdiapers, shoes, robes, goggles, and hairbands. Supposedly when they come home from swim lessons they remove all of these things and hang them carefully in the bathroom, but it never quite works out that way.
Once the kids are all appropriately acoutured and accesorized, we enter the blast furnace that I like to call my minivan. Outside temperatures are 100 degrees. Inside-the-car temperatures are probably around 120. I suppose I could run the engine earlier to cool it down in advance, but that wastes gas and with all the other stuff I never think to do it. Last swim session was in June and was in the morning, so the hot car wasn’t as much of a problem. This time around we’re heading out at 3:45. Right when car temperatures are at thier peak. I get daily complaints from the kids about the heat in the car. They somehow expect me to magically not make it be so hot. All I can do is crank up the A/C and suffer with them.
Our local fitness center is the location for swim lessons. This summer they’re doing major reconstruction of the entrance, so we’ve been trouping all the way around the side of the building to a temporary entrance. It is amazing the daily rituals that have formed around this expedition from car to swim lessons and back. Kiki and Link exit the car at a dead run. They want to get to the building and out of the heat as fast as possible. They aren’t allowed past the front desk until I arrive with proof of swim lesson registration, but this does not bother them. They entertain themselves by “hiding” in plain view on the stairs. Every day as I enter the building they jump up giggling, delighted to have surprised me yet again. Gleek sometimes runs ahead to join Kiki and Link for this fun. Other times she sticks closer to me. My pace is slow because for some reason the juniper bushes that line the sidewalk on this hike are facinating to Patches. Every day we have to stop multiple times so that he can carefully pick a berry and throw it to the back of the patch. Again. And Again. And Again. There is a Very Important game associated with the berry picking and throwing, but I’ve yet to figure it out.
During the swim lessons I get to go upstairs to an observation area. From this perch I can observe how my kids are doing in thier lessons. Kiki and Link are both doing great. They’re beginning to learn strokes and I’m fairly confident that if they were dropped into the middle of a pool, they could get themselves to the edge without drowning. Gleek’s class is fun to watch because all the kids are so energetic. Particularly Gleek. She is not motionless for a single moment of the 30 minute lesson. She is constantly doing flips underwater or splashing her peers. At least this year she is following instructions and staying with the group. Last year her teachers had to physically hold on to her to prevent her from wandering off and drowning. Today it was really fun watching Gleek learning backfloat. I could see the teacher saying “Chiiiicken, Aiiirplaaane, Soldier” trying to teach the rythmn. Gleek got the positions perfect, but it was more Chicken!! Airplane!! Soldier!! than the smooth rythmn her teacher was trying to teach.
Patches has made the most swimming progress this summer. For the entire first session he refused to do anything other than stand in the shallow water and play with toys. He would scream in terror any time the teacher tried to pick him up. I spent most of that session wondering why I’d spent money on swim lessons so he could play the same way he does in the bathtub. Since I didn’t want a repeat of that, I made sure to take him swimming several times between sessions. On those occasions I grabbed him and took him out into the deep water despite his terrified screams. Within 5 minutes he calmed down and within 30 minutes he was begging me to take him out into the “big water.” Apparently breaking through that barrier was enough. I watched him today with his teacher doing airplane floats on his back and kicking as fast as his little legs would go on his kickboard. He isn’t a baby anymore, he’s all skinny and preschoolerish.
Kiki, Link, and Patches are easy to get ready to leave, but Gleek fights for every extra second she can spend in the water. Once I’ve got my hands on her the battle is over and she knows it. She also knows that I’m fully dressed and not likely to jump into the water to grab her. She will milk every mommy-hepless-on-the-side moment that she can get. All the time she is declaring that she wants to show me “one more thing!” while staying just out of my reach. The swimming teachers are usually highschool students and are hesitant about disciplining young children. They’re not sure what to do about this child who refuses to leave during the time that they need to be greeting the next class. I find I can usually solve the problem if I just ask the teacher to bodily pick up Gleek and hand her to me. This has occasionally ended with me hauling a screaming tantrum to the car, but not lately. Kids can sense when parents are afraid they’ll make a scene. Gleek now knows that scene or no scene, she WILL get out of the water at the end of the lesson.
Dripping wet and wrapped in robes, all four kids make the trek back to the car. Patches accompanies Link through the boy’s dressing room. This makes both of them feel grown up to go solo through that “boys only” place through which mom is forbidden to go. Link usually directs Patches by plopping a hand on top of Patches head and turning Patches head the direction that Link wants Patches to go. I call it Noggin Navigation. For some reason they both love this. In the lobby of the building Kiki claims my car keys and the two older kids dash ahead to the car. Gleek, Patches, and I follow behind more slowly. There are berries which must be thrown.
Upon arrival at the car I have to coax kids into seatbelts and settle arguements about who gets to sit in which spot. I then sit in my seat and try to figure out where Kiki has hidden the keys. She is very ingenious and always has a new spot. Fortunately she is also smart enough to realize that mom is hot and tired, so she shows me the hiding places very quickly. But she grins ear to ear, very pleased with herself. The car is no cooler for the drive home, however the kids don’t complain because they’ve all been chilled by the cool water. I haven’t been, and so I roast. I confess I am frequently cranky by the time we all arrive home. I’m hot and tried and I have to get wet bodies into dry clothes before they sit on furniture. With all that accomplished I sigh with relief and sit at my computer to see whether email has arrived in my absense. I just need a few minutes solitude before the cries of “I’m hungwy!” begin.