Questionable Parenting

Yesterday my five year old joined the grade school swim team. Well, I joined her to the team. She didn't have much choice. We live on a lake in the summer and so being a strong swimmer is just part of the family deal.  She asked me the night before why we all had to be on the swim team and I told her that we didn't have to be on the team, we got to be on the team.  She told me she was afraid and I of course said there was nothing to be afraid of - but as sometimes five year olds do - she turned the issue on it's head.

"But mom, its not like basketball.  I could drown."

I reassured her that she would be safe, that the coaches would not make her do something dangerous, etc. I told her the youngest kids always practice next to the wall or a lane marker so she'd always have something to hang on to if she needed a break. She went off to bed without more complaint seemingly reassured.

Because a parenting crisis is a huge part of the parenting process, of course it didn't go quite as I planned.

My other kids have been swimming on the team for a few years and I'm a firm believer that a grade school swim team is one of the best youth sports. Multi-grade teams mean that that the little kids have someone to look up to, the middle grade kids are both equally "big" kids and "little" kids and the oldest swimmers have a great sense of their responsibility and importance as team leaders. Seeing the older girls in the pool helping the little girls, hearing the big boys cheer for the kindergartens is just the very coolest thing. I need to explain this because I let my love of the swim team get ahead a bit of my 5 year old's ability.

The Athlete has been in charge of the swimming team arrangements for the last few years - he's an assistant coach and so this was the first time I'd gotten myself involved in one of the practices. For reasons unknown to me, instead of dropping off at practice, I went to practice and stayed.  I have no idea why.  I didn't do this for the boys.  Maybe because my husband could take the boys into the locker room?  Maybe I knew she was scared? Maybe just because the timing worked out.  I don't know.  But I did.

So she is all sunshine and light, running around with the other few girls that she knows.  She's literally a head short than any of the other kids and several parents remarked on how tiny she is. Two people asked me how old she was. Quietly, very quietly, the doubt creeps in.

The little girls all line up - NOT next to a wall but near a lane market. Doubt getting louder, my stomach starting to knot up a little. The coach is watching the girls dive or jump off the block or the wall into the water and swim down the lane. There are a couple of teenage girls in the pool helping.

My daughter is last in line and as I'm watching I'm filling up with dread. Here is where my philosophy of parenting really comes to the test.  We believe in being pretty hands off - especially when the kids are being coached or taught or supported by another adult.  I think its good for kids to have to learn how to react to different style of teaching, communicating and leading.

Everything in me is telling me to walk over to the coach and give her a heads up that my daughter isn't a strong swimmer yet. But I also know that she is my most resilient child and part of me isn't sure that she's going to jump in and swim the length of the pool with no problem at all. So I wait.  I watch.

And she jumps in. NOT near the lane line or the wall. She takes about 8 strokes and panics.  I'm all the way across the pool but I can see the fear. I swear my heart could hear her say:

"But you PROMISED."

She's splashing. She's clearly in trouble. It takes just a second for one of the girls to grab her and hug her. She was never in danger. But I almost died. Part of me wanted to die, because I felt immediately like a failed her. I promised her she'd have something to hold on to - and she didn't.

I didn't realize until later that my husband was having the exact same experience across the pool.  We both watched it happen.  Later that night when we were rehashing the experience, it was oddly comforting and terrifying that we had exactly the same instincts. We both wanted to intervene, but decided against it.

I paced, halfheartedly chatting with other parents, guilt ridden and panicked that I'd made one of those big parenting mistake that your kids still remember on their 40th birthday.  We all make them - most of the time we don't realize it until too late.  My sister had a bad swimming experience as a child and it has haunted her for the rest of her life.  She swims, but not with the joy and exuberance that the rest of us have.  This morning when I told The Arch Mother the story, she immediately mentioned my sister:

"Your sister had a few of those moments. She swears dad almost drown her teaching her to swim. Come to think about it, she still talks about it. Never was a great swimmer after that..."

 "I know, Mom.  I know," I said.

My daughter stayed for the rest of the practice, holding tightly on to the 6th grade helper. But she stuck it out. At the end of practice, I wrapped her in a towel and her first words to me where:

"I almost drowned."

I let her tell me the story and I told her I saw it happen.  I acknowledged that it must have been frightening for her, but she wasn't actually in danger.  We talked about being assertive and responsible about ourselves and our fears.  I told her that she could have asked the coach to jump off near the wall - it's important to ask questions - especially if you feel unsafe. Unfortunately, I told her all of these things about an hour too late.

She is not new to my style of parenting. It wouldn't be surprising to her that I expected her to be tough and independent. I thought after this non-auspicious start that she would want to hang up her suit.  I never, ever let the kids quit things once they've started, but as I paced the pool deck I realized with some grief I wouldn't force her to do this again.  I think the Lord helped her finished the practice, because it gave me time to collect myself, to not rush over, wrap her up and hug her half to death. 

The next few things I told her, I hope, make all the difference. I told her that I was so proud of her for sticking it out.  I could see how she got better as the practice went on. I told her that it looked like a lot of fun.  I was not being dishonest. The girls did look like they were having fun, even my daughter clutched to the helper. I tried to re-frame to focus on the good parts and not the the first terrible jump into the pool.  If I am honest about it, I have to admit that I was way more upset than she was.  She recovered pretty quickly, yet it still makes me feel sick.

I promised that this week, I will take her to the pool and we'll practice the strokes and get comfortable again in the water. And I will do it.  By the end of dinner she was talking about how fun swimming was, how excited she was to get the team suit. She processed her fear so quickly.  I learned that I should have done a better job preparing her for the pool - I need to spend more time in the water with her to help build back her confidence.  She trusts that I will.  You can't break many promises, but you are bound to break a few.

The world isn't perfect. Our kids should hear us say sorry when we fail. They should know that we see them when they are afraid - that we value their experience of events. But just because we're afraid doesn't mean we have to give up.

My daughter taught me that.