I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
September 14, 2010
Six swimming lessons later, Punky still sinks like a stone in the water.
She knows all the motions that it takes to propel herself through the water. The problem is, the moment she senses her instructor or parent has let go, she panics and forgets everything.
And while I’m trying my best to be patient and understanding with my sweet daughter, the fact that she still can’t swim has led to one very big problem: The Swim Party.
Most of Punky’s six-year-old friends are newly-proficient swimmers, and swim parties have become all the rage. However, while most parents drop their kids off at these parties or stand around the pool and chat while the kids splash in the water, we obviously can’t do that. One of us has to be with Punky at all times.
Somehow, I convinced my husband to take Punky to her last swim party. (My husband, like most dads, avoids birthday parties like the plague.) There, Hubs endured a nightmarish two hours as the only adult in a pool full of 4-6 year-olds. About five of them couldn’t swim, and since he was in the pool, apparently the other parents of the non-swimmers decided he could just handle their kids, too. Of course, they didn’t bother to actually ask him to keep an eye on their kids- They just ignored them altogether, leaving Hubs with no choice but to singlehandedly keep all of the non-swimmers from drowning.
After that, I told Punky very nicely that she couldn’t go to another swim party until she could swim on her own. I hoped that would be incentive, and it worked to an extent. Where she used to fear swim lessons, she now loves going to them. She knows the pool rules backward and forward. She volunteers to go first for every exercise.
She just doesn’t actually swim.
However, one of her good friends is having a swim party this weekend, and since MY DAUGHTER MAY NEVER, EVER, EVER BE INVITED TO ANOTHER BIRTHDAY PARTY, EVER, my husband and I decided it would be cruel not to let her go.
The problem is that my husband is going to be out of town.
That means I will be taking my daughter to this swim party alone.
And I’m assuming I’ll also be the only parent “swimming.”
And I’m also assuming a number of my parent friends will be there, fully dressed, standing around and chatting.
WHILE I’M. IN. MY. SWIMSUIT.
You know, I was worried about how I’d look on the runway in New York City last week, in front of hundreds of people. As anyone would be, I was very, very concerned about that.
But that anxiety has absolutely nothing on the fear and trepidation I feel at the prospect of parading around in my swimsuit in front of all my fully-clothed parent friends. It’s a little like that dream where you realize you’re naked in a room full of people… only this time, the dream will be a reality!
It never ends, does it? From childbirth on, parenthood is just one long run of angst, confusion and embarrassment.