(no subject)
About halfway through her second swimming lesson, my little fish screamed for me. Loud. I walked over to the fence that separates the pool from the waiting area for parents. Miss Theresa was holding her in a backfloat. But from the stiffness of Maggie's body, you would have thought she was being dipped in fry oil. I waved and gave her a thumbs up. She screamed more. "You're not supposed to do that," another Mommy explained. "The teacher wants them to build trust in her, without you." This was Noah's mom. He's the boy who had screamed all the way through the last lesson, and who started out this lesson negotiating with Miss Theresa that he would try swimming lessons again, but only if he didn't have to put his head under the water. Now Maggie and Noah were both screaming. So I moved away from the pool and sat across from Noah's mom, wide-eyed, with one ear constantly aware of the pool while trying to make small talk. Finally, I could hear Miss Theresa tell the kids they could go see their mommies if they could just swim with noodles across the length of the pool. Noah took off immediately and was halfway across the pool in minutes, his eye on the warm towel and hug prize. Maggie cried and cried and kicked and kicked. I braced myself for her wrath. Maggie is not shy about expressing emotion. "That's NOT NICE, Mommy," I've heard so many times before, "I am angry. See my face. This eyebrows mean I am angry!" And these strong feelings could be about something as non-negotiable as me not letting her near the toaster with a knife in her hand. I could only imagine what she'd have to say about my subjecting her to these tortured swimming lessons and ignoring her cries. Suddenly, she emerged from the pool. Not angry, but proud. "Mommy! I can float on my back!" She was beaming as I wrapped her in her warm towel and she picked out her achievement sticker from Miss Theresa's collection. So forget Swimming Lessons. These are my Mommy Lessons. And today was a big one, one that I heard straight from the mouth of my own mother growing up, and one that I've been reluctant to impose on my own kid: "it's for your own good."