I took the Tiny Dark Lord to his first swimming lesson today, which is the first organized, paid-for, group-like athletic activity he has done so far in life. Go me! Am practically a football booster mom now.
My reasons were these:
1. The local pool is on the other end of town and doesn't open until noon, which is an hour before TDL is supposed to go down for his afternoon nap. The afternoon nap is very, very important. Probably not for him, but for me it is a sacred time. But the swimming lesson place is just a few minutes away, and after the late-morning lesson you can stay and swim as long as you want.
2. Since TDL seems to be on-again with water, (ask me about the 6 months where he refused to bathe and we had to throw him in the shower with GH on Sunday mornings to wash off the stench while he howled and sobbed), I thought he might enjoy spending some time in it.
And he was excited to go--this is him jumping up and down and quivering, waiting for his teacher to show up.
And these are his toes, which match his swimsuit. (He saw me getting mine done last night and wanted some.)
A note about the teacher: She seems very nice and easy-going, but man this Tots & Parents class is a sweet gig for her. She just got to stand there in the water and call out directions while the parents did all the actual wrangling.
3. I doubt he will learn any actual swimming skills, but I like the idea of him getting more relaxed and confident in the water so that maybe real swimming lessons down the road might go well.
He actually did pretty well, even if he spent the first several minutes clinging to me like a spider monkey shrieking "No jump! No jump!" because he was afraid I was going to put him up on the side and make him jump into my arms. And then, you know, deliberately drown him. But eventually he relaxed and loosened the death grip and we were able to practice all the "now kick on your back" and "now kick on your tummy" and "now go ahead and put your mouth in this small therapy pool where all these other small kids have been/are currently peeing and blow bubbles" moves the teacher wanted us to do. I think he'll be happy to go back--he was jabbering all about swimming this afternoon to a cousin while I translated. "It was blue water." "He was swimming." "He had a dinosaur toy." "Miss [Desmama] was there."
Because yes, the extra bonus was that I walked out of the class and smack into Desmama, who was there with her kids at the pool after their lessons. So I will get to visit with her every day this week after class, which, if you know her, you will agree is a delight to be savored.
And speaking of delights to be savored, that brings me to my #4 reason for signing up for this class:
4. I get to be in the water too, and being buoyant for those few minutes feels absolutely wonderful, even if it means I have to flash my beluga torso at everyone while my suit top floats up. I expect no one really notices because they are too distracted by the awesomeness that is my inflated and now fully-on-display pregnancy cleavage.
In fact, let's talk about my cleavage for a bit (you know you want to). Here's the thing: Maternity shirts tends to be kind of low cut. Do not ask me why this is. As a pregnant, temple-endowed LDS female it is absolutely possible to end up with an insane 5+ layers of clothing over your belly if you are wearing garments and paneled maternity pants and a low-cut or in any way sheer (so, you know, basically a) shirt that would normally necessitate wearing something else underneath. And seriously, that's JUST if you want to wear a pair of capris and a t-shirt.
Five layers. In this, the time of increased blood levels and body temps and summer heat and lack of air conditioning at my house. Clearly something has to give and at the moment it's the modesty-preserving tank tops and Shade shirts. And oh my gosh, even ditching just one layer makes such a difference. Plus, I won't lie to you, I look kind of rockin' up top. Turns out Ds are way more fun to dress than B minuses. (Or should that be B+ as in close to A? Huh.)
Point is, enjoy the walking pornography, everyone! (Or, I should say, the waddling pornography.)