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Browsing Tag: swimming

A Lesson in Breathing

Saoirse has refused to take swim lessons. From a teacher, I mean, or a coach, or someone actually certified to know what she’s doing. You know, important people. She decided about two years ago–probably when common sense or an awareness of her own mortality set in–that she was scared of having no control in water, and has balked at the idea of “proper” swimming since. Walking around a pool, fine. Pretending to swim in wading pools, great. But actually holding her breath and going under water and blowing bubbles and not being able to touch the bottom?  Oh, dear golly, if a squeal of fright could be any more high-pitched, our neighbors would tell you. I took her to a “tough love” swimming coach last summer and stopped lessons once I saw her actually trembling in fright on the wall. I didn’t want her to hate the water. I love the water. So does David. And there’s a freedom in knowing how to swim, a joy in jumping into the deep end knowing how fun it is to rise back to the top. Along with…

Ah, Yes

Happy Independence Day, everyone.  Waking up today (at 8:30!  How did that happen?  More importantly, how did our children let that happen?), I was thinking about my summer break between my first and second year of college, when I was working in the misses department of our local JCPenney.  What a mind-numbingly awful job.  I still distinctly remember closing up the store after hours at night and having to walk past all those creepy mannequins lining the dark aisle.  Brrr.  I still get the heeby-jeebies thinking about it. But back to what I was saying.  I remember that summer particularly because I woke up early on July 4.  I woke up cursing the sun, the bright sky, and all the evils of the time card, let me tell you.  I had to put on some tanned-colored pantyhose, my professional-yet-comfortable heels and work that golly awful job.  It was my first real taste of the bitterness of adult responsibility.  Granted, that job was paying for my books for fall semester, but that July 4th all I was concerned about was declaring my independence from price tags and returns without receipts. That was a long time…

She Wore an Itsy-Bitsy, Teeny-Weeny…Muumuu?

I did it. I put myself in a bikini. And went out into the world. Without a cover-up. No one screamed. Or fainted from shock. No one ran away in hysterics, including me, so I guess that’s a good thing. Saoirse’s been begging to go to what she calls the “wading pool” since, oh, about January. Yes, we have our own pool, which sparkles prettily in the back of the yard, but its only problem (other than harboring amorous frogs and spiders the size of your head) is that its only “proper” entrance (besides the jumping, cannonballing, shallow diving options, of course) is a step ladder into the shallow end.  We don’t have those nice, wide stairs that you’d typically find gradually descending into the water.  Which means that there’s no place to sit with a child, and no safety net of sorts to make a kiddo feel comfortable once she’s in.  So, if I’m on my own with a baby and a 3-year-old who can’t swim yet, no one’s going near that pool. Instead…