Love is . . . getting back in the water for swimming lessons, which start TOMORROW. I have to buy a pair of swimmers today because my last pregnancy destroyed my last pair.
You know what one of my most favourite thing as a parent was? When Riley was able to go into the water on her own. When I got to graduate from hopping in that water to sitting in that dank, humid environment, heavy with the smell of chlorine and the smell of old people and dirty nappies somehow combined – I was so freaking happy.
Now I have the pleasure of somehow containing Piper while we watch Riley in the water and then hoping that Riley can be adequately bribed with food and/or iDevices to sit on the sidelines quietly while I’m in the water with Piper. That doesn’t sound like fun. That sounds like a high stress situation.
There is some light at the end of the tunnel though. Riley used to sleep for four hours after her swimming lesson when she was Piper’s age. I’ll hold on to that carrot, right there. And you know, my children’s happiness. And, I guess, a life skill. Or something. I can say that to myself but all I hear is blah-blah-blah-blah-have-to-get-in-water-blah-blah-blah-damp-blah-blah-blah-old-people-and-dirty-nappy-smell.
I hope they appreciate this supreme act of love on my part. Or at least behave like non-feral children when we are at lessons. I’d accept that. That would be a fair compromise.