I’m really trying not to be like this. I really am. But I go about my day, my very ordinary day, and then something happens. Something that I didn’t see coming. I feel like I’ve been hit by a big bag of whatthefuck. And it is rather insignificant, what happened.
Ella’s last swim lesson was today. Two and a half weeks. And while her teacher was, in fact, two days older than dirt, she was a fantastic swim teacher. You can tell that she really loves what she does. After the class, she was handing out the “progress cards” to parents. It’s not a pass or fail. It’s a proficient or not proficient. And a recommendation to move on or not. Now I already knew that Ella wouldn’t be moving on. She’s not tall enough and she’s not old enough. And, as it turns out, she pretty much is not proficient in a damn thing except running through water. She wouldn’t put her face in. She’d try the back float but wouldn’t think of opening her eyes.
And I blamed myself. And my thought was “Swimming was not supposed to be my thing.” Stephen was the swimmer. He would have known how to get her to do it. He would have worked with her. The water was his thing. And I lost it.
I looked at the card and the teacher said “Don’t push her. She’ll get it but don’t make her do it right now.” And I lost it. I wanted to explain my kid a little bit. She must think I’m a total psycho, bawling at my kid’s swimming report card. It sounds silly just writing it all out. I cried all the way to the van. Ella just chattered on. She’s too little to be embarrassed. When I bucked her in she said “I’m not really very good at swimming.” You are still little. You’ll have lots of time to learn. “Maybe next summer then, right?”
Broke my heart just a little to hear her say that. My child who appears to listen to nobody has a huge sense of perception. She knew I was sad today. She knew that I needed my space.
What was funny was that I came home and damn near ate my feelings. Cheetos and Dr. Pepper and the works. I almost ordered a pizza. I almost baked cupcakes. But I didn’t. I recognized it for what it was and filled my stomach with ice water until I could think clearly again. As much as I want to give WW the finger, I haven’t. And it’s been nearly a month. I’m still not sure why I’m doing this to myself right now. Maybe because it’s something to do for myself?