Swim, Swim

Swimming lessons have been a part of our life for over a year and a half. Steve has religiously been bringing Rosie, every Wednesday, and she loves it. It's her thing. Now it was Buddy's turn to start lessons, and I came along, too, to make it a family event.

Did I ever mention that pools are decidedly not my thing? I never learned how to swim. I can't really describe to you how terrifying it is for me to be around a pool with my kids, because if one of them were to fall in, I'd have no way of rescuing them. It makes me anxious and on-edge.

But all of that is changing, and not because I've learned how to swim. Not yet. The goal is to get both of them swimming, and then it's my turn to learn. And it's going to happen. It's on my bucket list.

All of this is changing because, as I watched from my seat on the pool chair, Rosie put on her goggles, jumped in, and started swimming across. I wasn't prepared for the wave of emotions that overtook me in that moment. Tears streaming down my face, my heart in my throat, I watched my daughter do something that I simply cannot. That little girl of ours, she knows how to swim.

I am doing better by her. We are doing better by her. She now knows a skill that will be with her for life, and, unlike me, she will be able to be around pools and bodies of water and not be afraid.

After watching her swim with Steve for several minutes, my attention turned to Buddy at the other end of the pool, just starting his very first lesson with his swim instructor. He was giggling and happy.

We're doing better by him, too.

Nothing Personal

I had an interaction this week, that, had it happened another time in my life, probably would have offended me.

I won't get into details, but I was somewhere in the middle of the day, and when a person I recognized saw me, she said "What is it you do that allows you to be here in the middle of the day?" I was taken aback, and I sputtered "Well, I just got out of work." She nodded, and as she continued past, remarked: "I wish I had your job!"

Really? Which one? Because at the moment, I hold five part-time jobs, meaning I answer to five bosses. I am also the president of my local historical society, a member of cultural council, and I just finished 6 years of being on school committee. Did I mention that one of my kids isn't in full-time school yet? Yeah, it's been a bit of a juggle.

And, yes, when you piecemeal the way that I have, you do get random hours in the middle of the day, here and there, to do fun, non-work things. It's one of the things I enjoy most about the work that I have chosen. 3 of my 5 jobs can be done from the comfort of my home, in front of the computer, any time of the day or night. It's flexibility at its finest. Many nights after the kids are asleep, I am working so I can enjoy my son during the day in his last months before Kindergarten, and my daughter and husband when they get home from their long days of school. One weekend a month has me in front of the laptop while my family goes and has fun without me, but we take it in stride because we know with Kindergarten looming for the youngest, my flexibility will increase and I can move that time to week days.

But I didn't hold that person hostage and tell her all of the above reasons why I could be doing something fun in the middle of the day, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's this:

What people say and do is more of a reflection of them than it is of me.

The day this occurred, it was beautiful, sunny and warm. I believe those comments were said as less of a dig toward me, and more of a vocalization of how that person wishes they weren't chained to their place of work at that very moment. In other words, I think it entirely dealt with her own feelings, and really had nothing to do with me at all, except that I happened to be standing there.

This is still a new way of thinking for me. The old me would have gotten all riled up and offended by the comments said. Maybe one of the benefits to getting older is being able to more clearly see what's worth getting worked up over and what's not. Sometimes you just have to let people slide by with their asinine comments and give them a little grace.

It's Been a While

I know it's a good sign, when, after months of feeling too insanely busy to write, I get the urge again.

Here I am.

Oops, I have to interrupt this blog post to tell you something. Predictably, as I sit down to blog for the first time since October, Mr. 5 Year Old just came downstairs, all sleepy-eyed, clutching beloved Bear and Bear's pocketbook.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Bear has a pocketbook. It is my old teal pocketbook that I carried everyday for two years until I changed to a new one this past January. Buddy immediately wanted to know what I was going to do with my now-discarded purse, and he informed me that it could be "Bear's pocketbook". It's so darn cute. I mean, how many more years will I have of my son lovingly toting around his favorite bear in a pocketbook? Not many, I'm sure.

Which brings me to the other cute things he and Rosie have said and done lately that I wanted to write about. Recently, we took Buddy for a bike ride at DAR State Forest, and I was talking to him about my memories of going camping there with my grandparents. I told him how my gram and I used to take night walks, and find glow worms on the sides of the road. Later, when he was retelling this story to Rosie, it came out like this:

"Mommy and her Gammy used to see glow girls at DAR". Commence hysterical laughing. Glow girls?? Buddy, you are too much! I love when they get words mixed up.

Another day, I took Rosie to a dental cleaning, and told her we had to swing by the pediatrician's office to pick up a copy of Buddy's physical, so we could register him for Kindergarten at her school. As we were leaving the dentist office, Rosie says:

"Don't forget, mom. We have to go to the doctor's office to cash register Buddy for Kindergarten."

I had to ask her to repeat it. Then I got it: she's always heard me say "cash register" but never "register" by itself, so that was the only way she knew how to process that word.

I had to write these things before I forgot, because if there is one common refrain from older mothers in my life, it has been: "Write these things down! You think you'll remember them forever, but you will forget!"

I don't want to forget these sweet days of Rosie ending 1st grade (how do we already have 2 years of school under our belt? Gulp!) and Buddy's last days of preschool. Rosie seems more mature and wise by the day, and Buddy, well, he's still my baby, although he doesn't like when I tell him that.

Here's to more writing (hopefully) and more remembering!