Swim Baby, Swim!

We had a pool put in over the fall and Big D is feverishly beautifying its surroundings, which, when he's done, should turn out to resemble a lake in a 4 star resort. He rocks!

In preparation, Noodle has been taking swimming lessons since last Spring. Once a week, 1/2 hour sessions, costs a small fortune. He has never really been all that into it. A few weeks ago, I started to wonder why he hasn't been "tested" for the first level and been given the pleasure of acquiring his first ribbon. It has taken almost a year after all, and no sign of a test on the horizon. So, I ask his instructor, and we explain to him what he needs to do to for the test, ring the bell, and be the proud recipient of a shiny ribbon.

He was ready, he even appeared psyched for the test. "Mommy, I am gonna do it....I'm gonna ring dat bell"...."OK Noodle, great, Mommy will be so proud".

For me, the achievement had a lot of meaning. The initial reason for the lessons, was, of course safety, so that if Noodle ever fell in the pool, he could swim his way to the side and be OK. This achievement would also prove I wasn't throwing my money in the trash, which at times, I have seriously thought I was. Like all mothers, I mostly wanted security.

Last week he took his test. He swam the required three feet (well, two feet), jumped in and went under water, (with serious coaxing) and, was able to go under water and come back up without assistance. He rang the bell, got his ribbon, and there were high fives all over the place.

That night, he slept with his ribbon, he was so proud, you could see it in those baby blues. I was proud too, but I couldn't help but think, he really didn't earn it.

I am a hard ass for earning. I don't feel every child should get an trophy or certificate, just for participating. It wasn't like that when I grew up, and if you didn't get a trophy, well, you just needed to try harder.

But there he was, all snug in his bed with his favorite blankie and his ribbon wrapped around his tiny finger. He was proud of himself. I did it Mama, I did it, kept repeating in my head. But he didn't do it. He was pushed through. He was pushed through because his pushy mother wanted to see that her dollars paid off.

I let it go, and went on with life.

Last night he had his lesson again, and would not, could not swim three, or even two feet. He cried when his instructor asked him to jump in the pool, and, at times even clung to the instructor for dear life. It's as if it was his first lesson. It angered me, while at the same time, I felt terrible. That motherly instinct said go get him, hold him, cuddle him, tell him it's OK. To hell with these lessons!

But, NO, reality took over! What. if. he. ever. fell. in the pool?

Last night as he nodded off, in my bed, snuggled ever so close to me, with his sweet toddler breath in my face, he says, "Mommy, I no wanna go to svimmin' (that's how he says it) lessons no more".

He's not going anymore, he can wear swimmies in the pool and/or a lifejacket, and I will have to worry all summer until he gets it on his own. I hope by the end of the summer he can swim like a fish.

Peace.