LEARNING STROKES

For those of you that have been following, you might recall that 2 summers ago, I made the worst parenting decision of my life. I signed up Jonah for a swim boot camp… A week -long intensive taught by a “I swear-by-him… he’s a miracle worker… it’s so worth the money” guy in Los Angeles. Known for his controversial, sort of,“get in the pool and swim, kid” methodology, I wasn’t 100% convinced that this was the right thing for Jonah. HOWEVER, everyone I knew flocked to him and I was guaranteed that by the end of the week, Jonah would be swimming.

And he did.

For the rest of the summer he swam. Not confidently, but enough to where I did think, (despite the fact that he cried for 1 hour straight/ 5 days in a row), that it was worth it and that least he was “water safe.”

Cut to last summer.

The very first moment that it was hot enough to swim and I so much as uttered the word “pool,” Jonah flipped out. He wanted nothing to do with water or swimming; Even though I promised him he did not need to take lessons, and I’d never force him to do something that he wasn’t comfortable or ready for (again. Gulp), Jonah cried, “Please mommy, don’t send me to (insert guy’s name that will make him need therapy)!!!”

So as you can well imagine, last summer was spent with me, P, and any/ all willing adults holding Jonah in the pool… reminding him (every 7 seconds) that we wouldn’t let him go, and that he was okay and that although he DID/DOES know how to swim, we will hold on to him as long as he needed….

Then… Welcome, Summer 2013.  At the first mention of school out, summer, and swim time, you probably can guess what he asked nervously. I assured him (again), I would never ever send him there for lessons, but that this summer, I think in some way, it would be great to try… to learn… to somehow swim… Maybe… Please?? With like, lots of new cool Lego sets and games on my iPad, and milkshakes on Thursdays, would you consider a little, kinda, sorta like a swim class at the golf club… Because, also, remember, all of your friends are swimming. Freely.

I hardly wanted to shame him…. But with the awareness that camp was starting and they would swim everyday, I felt like it was time to light a little fire again. Gently. And with a flame that won’t cause post-traumatic stress.

Guess what? I didn’t even need to get the match. (Wow, I’m cheesy). At camp, there’s a big pool and a little pool. In order to go into the big pool (with a deep end), the children must take a swim test. Though he was scared, he took the test (and proved he wasn’t ready for the big pool). Relieved, he went into the smaller pool. For two days, I think he doggy paddled and waded his way through it. BUT something else happened, the kids that COULD swim- his buddies- also opted for the pee infested, sunscreen-drenched, Pacific Ocean, dirty looking, small pool too. AND one day, (day 5, I think,) Jonah decided he could swim.

Of course, because he’s a boy (and I’m discovering certain inherent male traits really DO start young), he didn’t tell me about this victory that first week. (That first week, I really only heard about the fact that he touched a Piranha shark, NO a leopard shark! at the aquarium and that I need to stop sending cucumbers because HE. DOESN’T. LIKE. CUCUMBERS).

But I digress…

Cut to this past weekend. Swim time with the family. P and I suit up ready for the clutch/don’t worry fest. Before we could even get in the water though, Jonah was all the way in and said, “Watch what I can do.”

And he swam. ACROSS THE POOL. Head in the water. Feet kicking. SWAM.

He even threw in some arm strokes.

Our mouths dropped….

We screamed. We cheered. I even cried.

He just decided to do it, he said.

“I just… I taught myself.”

For the next two hours, I watched my fish of a boy ENJOYsomething that he hated and feared for almost half his life…. With each and every jump, kick, and plunge, I finally forgave myself for something that I thought could not be undone.

He just taught himself.

“Sweetheart,” I said, “I still have you signed up for lessons at the club. You obviously know how to swim, but I still think---“

“I know, Mommy. I’m very good OF swimming. But I need to get better with my arms. Like the, um, stokes. I mean, strokes. I’m not good OF that yet. She can just show me that.”

Yes, she can.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: THE END OF SUMMER

A perfect day at the Santa Monica Pier.

This was summer was a great ride.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

Leap time....

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: HIGH ROLLER

On vacation, why not get him started early....

Two seconds later, we were told kids can't be in the casino. Duh! Guess you got to know when to fold 'em... and know when to walk away!

(**Been on vaca! Will be back next week and updating more!**)

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: HOW I FEEL ABOUT BATHING SUIT SEASON

'Nough said.

TOUGH AS NAILS

There's no denying it: I am a worry wort. I have been my entire life. From big to little reasons, I am queen of letting my fears spiral into a rabbit hole. However, HOWEVER--- recurring equally as often as my shpilkes is my strong as shit, tough as nails, warrior-like spirit. The two sides of me- the scared vs. the brave live side by side, hand in hand and somehow manage to live happily ever after together. Here's an example....

Last weekend, while away for a girls weekend to celebrate my BFF's bday, I had a massive headache (3 vodka's in 95 degree weather will do that). Not loaded with my own Advil, I had to gasp, borrow some from my friend. Out of her purse, she pulled a few mismatched pills. Two had IB written on them (but they were green and big), and the others had no names and were white. One of the pills she said had codeine- she thinks- and the other one, with IB written on it, I should just take.

If you were a betting person, based on the fact that I don't feel 100% comfortable taking Advil with even a diet coke, do you think I took any of her pills? UM, no. Instead I went digging through my other friend's purse until I stumbled on good old Advil with clearly written letters. Like I want to go out OD-ing on generic Motrin because they didn't sit well with the Dorritos I had at lunch??? Please. I'm not taking risks like that. No way.

CUT TO: Driving home from Palm Springs. I'm alone in my new car. There is a strip of freeway outside PS that is known to be windy. Well, of course, while I was driving, it was not only super windy, but there was like a mini dust storm too. Hands gripped like I was a student driver, my heart raced. Look, I realize I wasn't braving Hurricane Katrina, but as I felt my car getting tossed slightly from side to side, I had no choice but to bare down and be brave. I had to keep driving. I had to keep going. I had no choice. I was going to have to drive through my nervousness, figuratively and literally.

But how do you teach children how to do this? How do you teach children to face their fears, get through something scary, even if they don't want to (and you can't bear to watch them worry)? Instinctively, I want to quell any and every ounce of fear my child has from big to small, from witches and dragons to bad tasting green veggies- If I could I'd slay them all and he'd never have to worry about anything in life EVER. Except how to rid himself of the mommy issues he'll have as an adult for the very reason I write this post... But I digress...

This past week, Jonah took a swim intensive. I'd call it a class, but honestly, it's more like boot camp for swimming. Within one week, the children, who are all beginners at swim are pretty much swimming and able to hold their breath under water. I knew going in to it that all the children cry for at least the first 3.5 days and some for the entire time. I also knew that though the teacher was reassuring, calm and kind to the children, that NOT swimming was not an option and parents should sit back and watch while he does his magic, tears and all. I knew that this methodology to teach swim was polar opposite to my clearly-my-kid-rules-the-roost methodology, BUT STILL --- I don't think I was prepared for how hard it would be to watch my child sit (or swim, rather) with his own fear. I knew he was safe and I even knew he would walk away knowing how to swim. BUT how do you teach a 3.5 year old that sometimes it's okay to be scared, really scared, and in the end you come out stronger....?

How do you teach a 3.5 year old that fear leads to bravery and strength? I considered telling him about the time I backpacked through Europe for 10 days by myself (not by choice), or the time I had to identify a mugger in a police lineup, or the time I got an epidural at 7cm because I was too scared to get one earlier... But this might be a bit more to chew than a 30 lb human can handle, so I figured I'd keep it simple, and just told him: "I know you're scared. Being scared is okay sometimes. I would never do anything that would hurt you. You are learning something very important for your life. We're going to finish this class."

At the very last class, day 5, he did not cry and did not beg me to take him out of the pool. Instead, he was begging the teacher to take a turn, go under water, jump off the side, and SWIM. It was incredible. I still feel unsure whether this class was right for him and for me, for that matter, but I know we both came out stronger.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY: 'TIS THE SEASON

Goodbye lovely smelly lotions and perfumes...

Hello, summer skin....

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