Or should I say "Sweaty Summer?" Either way, we have been having all kinds of fun keeping cool in the pool. We took the first plunge back in May, when it was a mere 85 degrees out and the pool at Grandma and Grandpap's was still refreshing (not bath water). Flint and Lyla have been enjoying playtime in two inflatable kiddie pools in the yard at home. One larger one for my little fishie girl and a smaller infant one for Flint to splash around in without too much risk. They've also made a few trips to the splash pad in Roanoke and their local pool, as well.
They both really love the water. Having two non-swimmers, I envisioned my summer to be quite tiresome and waterlogged with two bambinos hanging on me in the deep end. After Lyla's school-year ended, we invited some classmates over to Gia's house for some water playtime. It was entertaining to see the different comfort levels of all the kids, and the complete lack of fear in a few. With two unappealing baby pools set up and no adults suited up (or willing?) to get in to the big pool, it should have obvious to us that the inevitable outcome would be 4 kids going in and under and 2 grown-ups leaving the playdate in wet clothes. Kind of funny, yes, but also scary. There were only a handful of kids there and the odds were still not in our favor. The horrible topic of drowning very quickly took over the #1 spot on my mental list of things to worry about.
So... I called Emler Swim School and got some class information. I looked into lessons at the YMCA. I chatted with other parents, did research, checked out at-home lesson plans online to use myself, considered other local options, and as usual, weighed my options indecisively. For a week or so I did this, and all the while continued to swim with Lyla and encourage her to try new things in the water, like sticking her face in. I got overly defensive when others seemed too pushy towards her, although she never seemed bothered by it. And before I could even make any decisions about swim lessons, Lyla reminded me of how amazing she is.
One day, she started to hold her breath and stick her face in. Maybe because she saw her cousins doing it... who knows? And of course, I made a ridiculous fuss over how wonderful it was. The next day, at a local pool, I watched as she held her breath and creeped along the bottom of the shallow end. The depth of 2 feet seemed just perfect for her to find her comfort zone. I tried not to interfere unless she looked like she was struggling, but she was just so calm and curious. A natural.
Day Three, we were back at Grandma's for some swim time with some close friends and her buddy, Aidan. This is when she really blew me away. She started holding her breath for longer periods of time, pushing off the steps, gliding toward me, kicked more purposely, and had a BLAST. I watched her let herself fall off the steps and figure out how to get back on. She swam to me at probably six feet away. She gave me kisses under water, jumped in and swam to me and bravely (the scary kind of brave) let go of me at random to explore and attempt to swim on her own. This kid wore herself out and made her mama proud, albeit perhaps more terrified at her false sense of confidence.
Not a week later, though, this kid was swimming with underwater strokes, coming up for breaths, jumping in like a maniac and going at least half the pool. I am confident that if she fell in, she could get to a wall or stairs and get out on her own. What a weight off my shoulders! And I have no one to thank! Not a swim teacher, not a relative, not myself... instead I am just thankFUL. My daughter has this remarkable, relaxed curiousity, and natural ability in the water that she discovered and honed all on her own. She is a fish.
I had hopes she would be a swimmer by the end of summer. Now, I have hopes that she'll be perfecting her butterfly. Realistically, though, she grows more and more comfortable and confident each time she's in the water. I just hope her skills keep increasing so that Mama's fears can keep decreasing. She should get plenty of practice between our season passes at Hawaiian Falls, her Grandpap's pool, and our upcoming trip to Padre.
As for Flint, he likes the water, but he's no "water baby." Mama is too chicken let him go under. Aunt Shannon isn't, though. Which is why she is never to be trusted alone with my son in the water. I am content to watch him frog-kick and jiggle frantically with his big goofy grin, and smack the water excitedly (then immediately grimace at the splash hitting his face).
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