But 4yo doesn’t get out of the fucking pool when I tell him. He swims away and plays with the other fucking parents. He ignores me, and has gone from one side of the pool to the other to avoid me. So I yell at him. Not full yell, but quiet yell. And they look at me from behind their brightly colored prams while their 2yo learns to blow bubbles or whatever. Fuck off. It’s not like we haven’t been doing the same thing for 2 years, and that he doesn’t know the rules of the pool and what he is and is not allowed to do.
And then he cries like he is being beaten. But, of course, it’s because I have not given him his hot wheels cars to smash against the wall in the shower. And then he suddenly stops crying, as though his breath has suddenly and awfully cut off. But, of course, it’s because I asked him if he wanted a cuddle and he tearfully nodded and swallowed his cries.
I’m not an awful parent (all of the time), I guess I just have awful interactions with my kids on occasion when there are the most witnesses. Sigh.
Tag: swimming lessons
Going for Broke
Literally, going for broke. I had the bright idea of a Readathon for 7yo, before school starts again in 45 days. He asked and I explained how it works, or sort of works when there is only one participant and the ‘athon’ is done at home. Then he asked for $40, wt? I said no, straight away. But then I countered with 400 books. He said no, straight away, then he reconsidered. I also threw in 500 for $50 etc, and told him how many days are left before school, and therefore how achievable his random $40 would be. Then he read a Flat Stanley book to me on the drive home. Woohoo! I’m definately winning at this stuff.
Shortly before that, though, I suggested that we could get a pool if 3.5yo would only listen to his teacher and get in the gosh darn pool, already. Aside from the combatative preschooler business, it’s also super frustrating because he used to be such a good swimmer, and that was before his 3rd birthday!
We will definately go broke, sooner rather than later.
Just Keep Swimming
3yo used to swim for 30 minutes twice a week, which meant that those days were eaten up with something short to do before swimming, getting ready to go to swimming, getting ready for swimming, watching totes adorbs monkeys splash around,
then trying to get him out of the pool, trying to get him out of the shower, snacks in the car, possibly driving for a few extra minutes in the hope that he would fall asleep before we got home, then taking a breather before the afternoon school run. I changed all that to include him in his brothers’ lessons, but changed that again when it wasn’t working out to be as much a proper lesson for him, but admittedly it’s totally awesome to hold a slippery cutie pie while his brothers jump and splash. So we are back to group lessons at a new pool, and it was hard yakka last week. I’m expecting the same tomorrow, even though I will try to be more prepared.
I need to get out the Vitamin C spray again, even though the boys will scream like I’m spraying them with acidic sand, and I’d love to be able to oil them after a shower, but last week we couldn’t even manage a shower. The big boys are too old to be in the ladies’ dressing room, but I’m not going to let them go into the men’s room by themselves. Ho hum. So we ended up changing in a corner of the corridor which went to the ladies’ room, all the while turning their heads away and speaking in stern whispers – which everyone could no doubt hear because of the accoustic qualities of tile – about privacy and minding our business and trying to get them to hurry the bloody hell up so we could leave already. Longest 7 minutes everrrrr. Of course, the judgy mcjudger mums of girls were watching me surreptiously, with either bemusement or disdain, while their offspring frolicked in a nice warm shower, and probably wondering what the bloody hell my problem was. Obviously, it is the lack of family change room real estate.
I might be able to shower them briefly under the pool shower, but there is also not much space around the pools before one is standing on the skirting boards, or sitting with your neck cricked right underneath the wall-mounted pool equipment, and people were actually standing in the immediacy of the spray zone whilst watching the swimmers last week. Space is totes at a premium.
Dinner afterwards was only *just* not a write-off. I can’t chance the drive home because one or all will fall asleep and wake stupidly early for breakfast. We went for Mexican cuisine; we have been successfully eating a full meal of tacos at home which pleases everyone (except for Husband because he is a boo-hoo for the mess. They are crunchy! Just deal. In other news, they are kids!), but try to do that in public to your detriment, peril and humiliation. Picky fucking eaters, jumping, yelling, cry baby bullshit, the whole nine yards. Well, maybe 7 and a half.
Anyhoo, tomorrow night, Husband will be able to partake in this delight, and I might check out with a margherita,
or a cowboy boot filled with beer, or I’ll just sneak home and put myself to bed, because swimming is exhaust.
4 Princes and Me 