Merheath and his Grumpy Mermaid Sister

I just finished updating my resume for the first time in a long time. Like, had to change my last name, address, email, phone number, long time.

Apparently before I had children I used to do some stuff that requires descriptive words like facilitate, and collaborate, and oversee, and instruct, and edit. I have some fancy thoughts in my head about it all, but I'm just too beat to play around with them. Must've been all that facilitating and collaborating and overseeing and instructing and editing I did all day.

Heath had his first formal swim lesson this morning. Shortly after he got up, I started preparing the troops to head out, cautious of not overselling the adventure to Heath, but certainly keeping an upbeat attitude about it. My decision in referencing the fact that he will be learning to swim in a big pool, and this will eventually lead to swimming all the time in a big pool, was a smart one. He was sold. He was excited. So excited that he was ready to get in the car at 8:45am. The lesson was at 10. Less than 10 minutes away.

We have a few more things to do before we go, I explained. We'll leave soon.

I'll just wait in the car, he offered.

As much as I wanted to revel in his enthusiasm, I needed to put my focus on the little lady of the house. When she saw Heath putting on his Spider-Man swim suit, she began squealing, Pool, pool, while stripping out of her pajamas and running to her room to get her pool attire. When I explained that the lesson was for Heath, well, she was nothing short of pissed. Throw yourself down on the floor, scoot on your back with enraged fury, pinch every limb or toy or wall or furniture or sibling that gets in your way--pissed. It lasted twenty minutes. She composed herself when French Toast became available.

Until we were at the actual lesson. Then she let loose again and ran like a wild banshee toward the pool, repeatedly. I spent most of the half hour keeping her occupied, taking an occasional peek at Heath, who was thoroughly enjoying himself. They blew bubbles. They placed one ear at a time in the water. Then up to their eyebrows. Then kicked (while being held) to the wall. Then slid down a slide to the waiting arms of a couple of very sweet, patient, and ever-encouraging instructors. By the end of the half hour, all five had pretty much submerged themselves in water, without even really knowing that's what had happened. Heath loved it. And I'm already daydreamy about swim practices and meets and medals and favorite strokes and spending much of his youth (like much of mine) with the constant, glorious smell of chlorine on his person.

When it was all over he requested we come back after lunch. Glad I signed up for the twice a week lesson plan.

In the meantime, I'm getting ready to eat Brownie Mud Pie ice cream out of Heath's Spider-Man mug.