Guest Blog: "You teach me how to swim, right mommy?"

I've been too busy to blog, and so has Emily, but she still made the time to do a guest blog tonight. And here it is.

By Real Mom.

Toward the end of summer I figured I should sign Jack and Kate up for swimming lessons. Jack had been taking lessons through the Y’s daycare program for about 2 years. Kate had some mommy and me lessons when she was about a year old but we stopped them because I hated them. The pool was always freezing, plus the water was fairly deep and even I had a hard time standing up and keeping my balance. Anyway, they both had started to really love swimming at the beach this summer. Kate would hold on to my hands, arms outstretched, kicking, saying “Mommy! I swimming! I swimming!” So, I really wanted to keep up with the lessons so they would stay comfortable in the water, since they both tend to…shall we say, be a little tentative with the unfamiliar.

So, after first signing them up with the Y – where they all but promised they’d turn into Michael Phelps after about 2 lessons – I ended up changing over to SUNY Purchase, where their cousins had taken lessons. Plus, bonus: it was $100 cheaper, each. Jack would take beginner-intermediate lessons on Wednesdays after school. I took a leap of faith and signed up Kate for solo lessons (without a parent in the water), for Saturday mornings.

Two weeks ago, Kate had her first lesson. She had to get a swim cap, so I got her a cute little red one with a kitten’s face on it. It even had little ears. So cute. I walked her over to where the lesson was happening. As we neared the end of the pool, she immediately started shrieking and crying and holding on to me with all the strength her little body could muster. Somehow I pried her away from me and handed her over to her very nice and patient instructor, Caroline. All the other little girls and boys were gamely standing on a little platform in the water. Kate was busy shrieking in poor Caroline’s ear, reaching for me. So after about 5 minutes of that, I said, well, why don’t we try watching for a while. Caroline handed her back over, and Kate and I sat by the side of the pool and watched. After about 10 minutes, I said, hey Kate, why don’t you try getting in again? And she nodded (she was sucking her thumb, of course, so didn’t actually speak.), but then once I started handing her over and the shrieking recommenced. That poor teacher. Anywho. After about 5 minutes, I got her out again, we watched about another 10 minutes, and then, I thought, oh hell, let’s just get out of here. And I was ticked at what I viewed as the weakness in my children that they were always the ones to shriek in terror at new things while other children seemed to just go happily with the flow. And, PS, I was soaking wet. Not surprisingly my pants got wet sitting on the side of the pool, so it kind of looked like I peed in my pants. Excellent.

And naturally, there was no lesson the next week because of Yom Kipper, so it’s not even like we could go get back on the proverbial horse right away.

I considered just cancelling the whole damn thing, but then, I thought, no, I don’t want them to be quitters. So I told Andy to see if he could call and maybe transfer her to a class where the parent was in the water. Surely she wouldn’t shriek and cry if we were in the water with her, right?

Last night: I’m putting Kate to bed, talking up today’s swimming lesson. “Are you going to cry in the pool tomorrow, Katie?” “No!” she says: “I swim like this:” and proceeded to lay down on her belly, kicking behind her and thrashing her arms some, pretending she’s swimming. “You teach me swim, mommy?” She asks. You bet, sweetie, I tell her.

This morning she couldn’t wait to get her suit on. She kept saying, “You teach me swim, mommy?” And I answered yes over and over. We got to the pool, and she even let me put her hair in a ponytail so her swim cap would be easier to put on. And we walked over to the side of the pool.

And the same thing starts happening. There’s crying, screaming, wailing, shrieking, and she’s got the death grip on me again. I kept reassuring her: “Sweetie, I’m coming in with you. I’m coming in with you this time!” I pried her off me to hand her over to the teacher (oh, poor Caroline again), so I could climb down the ladder. The water was definitely warmer and more shallow then the Y’s so I was feeling much more at ease. But she kept crying and shrieking, and I was doing my best to be calm and happy and peppy, but I was kind of thinking, Jesus Kate, get it together! Six other kids in the class, all of them bobbing happily up and down in the water with their moms or dads. And Kate, shrieking, “I want to get OUUUUUUUTTTTT!”

But, we kept on. I pried her off me to hand her over to the other teacher, Jennifer for a bit. She kept crying but at least she kind of kicked as the teacher handed her back to me. But she kept CRYING.

After about 10 minutes of this nonsense, I said, “Kate, if you stop crying, we’ll go to Wendy’s when we’re done!” (What can I say, I was desperate.)

Bingo. She stops crying. For about 5 minutes it was touch and go, she’d be fine and be laughing, and then start crying again. And then she got into it. She starts doing all the activities. Lays down with my hands supporting her back for a back float. “Ooooh, this is nice…” she says. Lets me tie a floatie backpack on so she can practice kicking while she throws a little rubber duck as far as she can (must mention, the swim teachers were impressed with her arm strength.) Now she’s laughing. “This is FUN, mommy!” she says.

Then the teacher gets out a hula hoop. She holds it half in and out of the water. The point being for the parent to be on one side, teacher on the other. The parent’s supposed to hand off the kid, while the teacher swoops the kid’s head underwater. So, we’re going around the circle, the whole time I’m debating with myself, “Should I have her try or not?” Then it’s our turn, and I decide. I tell the teacher to please only put her chin in the water; it’s been going so well I don’t want a setback. She nods in agreement and gets dips chin in the water. “AGAIN!” Kate says, but we each only get one turn. A father next to me turns and says, “Smart move. Why push it, right?” I shook my head in agreement and said, Yeah, no kidding.

Then. THEN. It’s time to learn how to jump from the pool deck into the water. Has Andy ever mentioned how much Kate loves to jump? She jumps off every step, rock, ledge, and curb she can find. I stay in the water, lift Kate out to the edge (my god, a challenge for those of us who are just as tall as the edge of the pool). “One. Two. THREE. JUMP!!!” She jumps in. “A-GAIN!” So we do it again. And again and again and again. I think she could have spent the whole class just jumping in and out of the pool.

Finally it was time for class to end, and we did some variation of wheels on the bus as sort of a class goodbye. Kate was fantastic. Laughing and giggling, even though she was starting to shiver and her lips were turning purple. And class ends and we get out of the pool, and she turns to me and says, “That was SO MUCH FUN, mommy!”

As promised we stopped at Wendy’s, and brought it home to eat. We sat in the kitchen and ate our lunch together, just the two of us. And she kept saying, “You teach me how to swim, right mommy?”

And for awhile I thought my chest was going to burst, such was the pride I was feeling for my brave little girl.

Football

Jack's first and perhaps last football game was yesterday; he's officially played more organized football in his life than I have. We found out about the Rye Town Youth Flag Football team through a friend, and although we'd already missed sign ups and stuff given our summer move, we got Jack on a waiting list. Late last week we found out there was an opening, perhaps because some people had dropped out after the first week. Hmm.

So Friday I got an email from the coach saying that the first game was at 9 a.m. Sunday, and to be there 45 minutes early for practice. And that Jack should have mouthguard and a cup. For water? No, a protective cup. In case I haven't mentioned it earlier in this blog, Jack is 5.

So Saturday morning we went out to the store and bought him a mouthguard (which we accidentally melted in boiling water Sunday morning, oops), cup, and strap. Much amusement was had in strapping the thing on, which the next morning at the field I learned we had done improperly anyway. We also played some football in the backyard, running around and tossing it back and forth. So despite some uncertainty, I still figured, eh, it will be 5- and 6-year-olds running around in the grass having fun, right. And it's football, which we love, so, awesome.

Sunday morning we got Jack dressed and headed over to the field, at the high school. Big place with a bunch of big fields that looked sized for giants, but there was his team, the red-jerseyed 49ers. So we went over and met the coach, exchanged a few pleasantries, Jack got his red jersey, and they were off. I watched him run off to join the team.

Practice was a little ways away from where the parents stood; we chatted, and I watched from afar as Jack went through drills. He looked a little uncertain, having missed some time, but I'm still thinking it'd be OK. At one point I saw him pick up a ball (after having it thrown errantly in his general direction) and throw it back to the coach. Good throw, the coach said. I felt a swell of pride.

Shortly before 9, more parents started showing up, gathering on the field. The other team. Cheerleaders! The teams lined up, the coaches yelled instructions, and play began. For each team, several players stood on the sideline, including Jack. He got in for a couple of plays, and had no idea what he was supposed to be doing really, but like in soccer, he gamely ran after the kid with the ball. And then rotated out back to the sideline, to watch some more.

Emily and I stood on the sidelines a little confused by the whole thing. In soccer, nobody stood on the sideline. Well, there was the one game where we had more players than the other team, and the other coach said we should hold some players out, and I looked at him like he was crazy. They're FIVE. What am I supposed to do, while running around calling the game and chasing out of bounds balls, orchestrate an assembly line of players moving on and off the field? Not gonna happen. Maybe he had experience in the football program, I don't know.

Jack came in for one play, lined up on the defensive line, and as the play started, he got flattened by an opposing lineman. It was the kind of play you could see coming, since again Jack didn't really know what he was doing, and the other kid was bigger. The other kid started forward and Jack didn't move; flattened. Later that afternoon, when Jack was in bed with a 102 degree fever, it became clear that he was also starting to get sick, something we didn't know at the time. Not that things would have gone much differently, but standing around in the sun for 2 hours from 8 to 10 Sunday morning and then getting leveled probably didn't help any.

I ran out, scooped him up, carried him back over to the sideline with the other kids who were off the field. The other coach apologized to us, the other kid came over to apologize at the command of the coach, yada yada. It was one of those things. Jack was OK after a couple of minutes. I hung out with him for the rest of the game. Afterward I asked the coach, um, Will he normally get to play more? Because I'm thinking little kids standing on the sideline for an hour or more is silly; if there's an uneven number on the field, so what; everybody doesn't get anywhere near the ball on most plays anyway. The coach said, Yeah, because he missed practices, he didn't really get a chance to have a better understanding of everything, how to pull flags, what to do, etc. Which is true; starting out with a game was probably a mistake (although again, we imagined random chaos like a soccer game, not the structured, college football-like atmosphere we got. I think some of the coaches might be taking things a bit too seriously with 5 and 6 year olds). But that it would be better next time.

Walking off the field afterward, I told Jack I was proud of him, that it was great to see him out there. I tossed him into the air, and we headed off to a late breakfast. We got home, and Jack had his high fever and was in bed most of the day. I didn't feel so hot myself.

This morning I said to Jack (who was feeling better after 12 hours or so of sleep), So Jack, what did you think of playing football. Pause. "OK," he said. Do you think you want to go back next week (actually, I later came to find that the team had evening practices, from 6 to 7:15 on Tuesdays, which around these parts we call dinner time, and that they wanted to have practices on Thursday evenings too. Yikes). Jack shook his head. I said, yeah, that was a little tough out there, huh? He nodded. The previous evening, Emily had asked him if he'd rather play football, or maybe go back to soccer next time. "Go back to soccer," Jack answered quickly.

So Jack, I said, we won't go back. And then maybe next year we'll think about doing it again. And Jack nodded cheerily and said, "Then next year I'll be 6 years old, and I'll be older enough." That's right, Jack. You'll be older enough.

We went out in the backyard and threw the football around, with no rhyme or reason or rule to it. And Jack ran around and chased me and I chased him, and he had a big smile on his face. And football was fun again.

Tooth Fairy Etc.

Jack has had some trips to the dentist lately, thanks I guess to poor brushing on our part combined with unfortunate tooth heredity. So on Wednesday, after school, he and I had to go to the dentist to get a couple of his teeth filled. So I picked him up and, for the fourth straight week, we headed off to the dentist.

We got there, and turned out that Jack needed to have a tooth extracted. The dentist was funny; she said, "We just need to wiggle it. And sometimes when we wiggle it, it just comes right out. And then the Tooth Fairy comes."

As my family knows, there's a story behind the Tooth Fairy for me. The Tooth Fairy always left notes, Scott found out it was actually Dad, told me about it, and I was very upset. So that night I got a note from the Tooth Fairy that put my fears to rest. I think they were normally in my Dad's handwriting and now it was in my Mom's. Anyway, Jack was a trooper, he had his tooth removed, all during it he hung in there, giving me occasional waves and thumbs up and stuff, and I was pretty proud of him.

And then they finished up and he sat up and his mouth was bloody and there was a big hole where his tooth had been, yikes, but he was OK. And then he got stickers and such.

And we piled into the car and headed off, because, you know, Jack's first swimming lesson at SUNY Purchase was ALSO that afternoon. So off we went.

And the big thing I want to say about that is that we changed him into his suit and went down to a swimming pool he'd never been in before to be taught by people he'd never seen before, and he didn't cling to my leg or whatever. No, he got right in the water, and had his lesson.

And at one point they did this thing where they had to swim/lunge for the edge of the pool from a platform. And he did it himself, without a flotation device or anything. And when he was back on the platform he looked over at me, and he gave me the biggest, proudest smile, clearly very happy that he'd done it. And I remember that about an hour ago he was in a chair having a tooth pulled, and I grinned too.

That night, he put his tooth under his pillow. Emily and I debated whether the Tooth Fairy would leave a note or not. I think she talked me out of it, or my own note did. One of the two. But the note I ultimately did sneak in to leave, that he didn't see the next morning (he was too happy about his silver dollars), said "Dear Jack - Congratulations! I'm proud of you. Love, T.F."

3!

Kate turned 3 a few days ago. Three! Some moments.

She wanted cupcakes, not cake. So that's what she got. And she wanted ice cream, of course. Got that too.

For a week leading up to it, she -- having been told about it by us -- would at random moments say "My birthday! For my birthday? My birthday. My birthday!" She was into it.

Jack had talked for two weeks that he was going to get her Backyardigans stickers. So when we did all the shopping for toys and gift bag type stuff, we got her Backyardigans stickers. And a Backyardigans watch. And a bunch of little toy cameras (which I knew she'd love, and Jack did too, and for a week after they walked around with the cameras going "Click." "Click."). The cameras had little animal pictures in them. Jack took a picture of me. He said, "I see a monkey." Thanks, Jack.

Kate didn't want to nap on her birthday. She's starting to want to give up the nap in general. But it's funny when she's really tired, and she'll protest without really protesting. As if to say, well, I will take my nap now, but NORMALLY, I don't want to nap.

We gave Kate a Backyardigans playdough set that we'd held back since last Christmas, from Nana and Baba. (Because she got too much at Christmas.) She and Jack played with it a lot. Today she dug out the Olivia dress-up kit Aunt Robin gave her. Well actually, Jack did. And got dressed in it. And looked ridiculous but made us laugh. And then Kate put it on. At first she was like, "I'm a Christmas girl, I'm a Christmas girl," because it had red bows all over it. Jack said, "No, you're Olivia." So then she ran around, "I'm Olivia, I'm Olivia...."

It was the first time she really enjoyed opening presents; the first time she kind of got it.

How old are you? We asked. "I tree!" she said. "I tree!"

Last Friday Home

Since Kate was about six months old, when Emily went back to work, I've had the kids home with me on Fridays. They went to preschool Monday through Thursday, then were home on Fridays. We had good days, we had bad days, we had in-between days.

But Jack started school this week, and kindergarten goes Monday through Friday. He was home today -- school holiday -- but next Friday, he'll be in school. So this is our last full day Friday home together, the three of us.

I thought about it once or twice during the week, but we were busy and there wasn't much time to think about it, so I didn't. And I don't know how much I thought about it this morning, either. Only when we were walking to the playground at around 11 a.m. on a Friday, and I said, huh, next week Jack will be in school now.

When we got up in the morning, Jack asked me, "Did Brett Favre win?" Vikings opened the NFL season last night. No, Jack, I said. "But why?" Well, sometimes he loses. He'll get 'em next week. We watched the highlights on ESPN, I queued up his one touchdown pass for them to see, while they sat next to me on the couch. Kate, say Go Brett Favre, I said. "GoBettFahvv!" she said gamely.

I gave them breakfast, cheerios with milk and cantaloupe on the side. We saw Emily off to work.

They played with various toys. Sometimes I joined in, helped Jack a little with his Lego building.

We walked to the "baby" playground. First Kate went on the swings, while Jack played on the slides. Then he wanted help with the monkey bars. I helped him, barely. He went right across with my hands barely touching him. He couldn't do that a month ago, two months ago.

Jack wanted to go on the swings too, so we went back to the swings. They both swung high and laughed. Jack kicked his legs in the air like he was running at the top of his swing. "I'm running in the sky!" he yelled. "I'm running in the sky!!!!" Kate kicked too and laughed. "Running in the sky!"

We walked around the baseball field. I stood on the pitcher's mound and fake pitched to Jack. He fake swung a bat. They both ran the bases, kicked dirt on the chalk lines, ran in the outfield grass. They were both wearing their Red Sox sweatshirts.

We headed home. I gave Kate a ride on my shoulders for half a block and Jack a piggyback for half a block. They wanted more, but I said, that's it, guys. You're getting heavy.

At home we had lunch, chicken nuggets and fries.

I put Kate down for her nap. Jack tried but ended up reading in bed. Then he and I played Yahtzee, just like my Dad and I did. And still do.

After Kate's nap, they had apples, carrot sticks, water. We got the new Entertainment Weekly that had an ad for Hawaii Five-O that played music when you turned to that page. Jack turned to that page over and over, playing the music over and over. And dancing and dancing.

In a little bit, I'm walking them to Aunt Cathy's house for dinner, while I go out. There will be days off here and there of course, and weekends, plus Jack gets off school earlier than he did from preschool. But this was our last Friday with all of us together, and I already miss it more than I ever thought possible.