Unfortunately, not everyone shared my sentiments. After explaining the amazing plans for this summer, I was met with mixed reactions. The eight-year-old was mostly excited about the news, happy to see her buddies and thrilled by the prospect of competing against other kids. The eleven-year-old, well, let's just say he wasn't amused. To him this was yet another lame thing Mom was demanding from him.
I can still remember what it was like to be a kid, so I can understand how he feels. Summer time is for sleeping in, staying up late, eating homemade ice cream, and camping out. Not for getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to go swim laps in some lousy pool for hours on end. Not to mention the meets scheduled for every single Saturday. I'll admit that it won't be easy, it's a commitment that will take up a good part of their summer. But regardless of how he feels, he's getting his hiney out of bed and he's going. (That's the neat thing about being a mom, it makes me the boss.)
So after school on Tuesday we drove over to the pool. As always, we arrived in style, with a screaming two-year-old on Mom's hip, a four-year-old attached to Mom's leg, complaining to anyone who'd listen that she never gets to go swimming, an eight-year-old tugging her one piece from her rear, unhappy that Mom wouldn't allow her to wear that one bikini that hasn't fit her properly since three seasons past, and a sulky eleven-year-old, muttering things under his breath.
The older two went off to try out for the swim team, leaving yours truly with the pleasure of filling out hundreds of release forms. This is where things took a turn for the worse. Sensing an opportunity, my two year old seized it, pitching the biggest fit I've ever seen--which is really saying something. On the floor, arms and legs flailing, purple faced, all out screaming his favorite phrase of the month: "LEGGO ME, LEGGO ME!!!" Trust me, no one was touching him, anyone within a twenty foot radius was far too busy either running away, or pressing themselves against the further most walls of the small office. He was behaving like a little demon, I half expected his head to spin around 360 degrees, like Emily Rose in The Exorcist.
I felt mildly uncomfortable with this, I must admit. When tantrums occur at home, I simply step over the child, ignoring them till they realize their fit is only an exercise in futility. A method that doesn't work so well out in public. It never ceases to amaze me how after all I've been through with my kids, they can still make me flush with embarrassment at times.
In a hurry, I scribbled illegible answers on the papers, shoved them at the frightened looking teenage girl behind the counter, and evacuated the three of us to the pool area. This is where the two-year-old made a mad dash for the cool blue water. (This whole swimming venture was shaping up to possibly be one of the worst ideas I've ever had) I barely stopped him before he leapt in there! I swatted his bum and then carried him, kicking and screaming to where my friends were sitting at a table across the way. Of course, having kids of their own, they thought all of this was hilarious. They welcomed me as I plopped down, exhausted. The two-year-old wriggled out of my lap and went out the back sliding doors to play with other kids in the muddy grass.
As I sat there, catching my breath, I realized, like with most things involving child rearing, this wasn't going to be easy for any of us. But the best things in life, oftentimes, are the ones that challenge us the most. I would never ask my children to do more than I'm willing to do myself, and I make a point of sticking to my decisions. Hopefully my kids will adopt this same mentality along the way.
Swim on my little dophins, swim on, Mama's right behind ya....
Philippians 4:13 - I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
