I love this time of year; it's the start of the Bank Holidays and this year in particular we've been spoilt with two four-day weekends in a row. The weather has been particularly amazing for April (which is why it's grey and overcast now on the first day of May) and we've been able to take advantage of the great outdoors at almost any opportunity.
Today, however was a tad grey and overcast so we decided for an indoor activity. Having recently been sent a Happy Nappy to review (more about that in another post) we decided to take The Boy swimming. I am ashamed to admit that he has only been once in his little lifetime due to various neurosis of mine, ranging from 'I need him to have had his main jabs before I take him into germ-infested water', to 'it's Winter and I don't want him to catch a cold' and eventually 'I don't want to go when children from school might be there and see me in my swimming costume'. Pathetic isn't it?
As it so happens, I think I may have created a little rod for my own back here (which is good because it's knackered since having had The Boy and could use a little support!).
We took The Boy along to the pool fairly confident; he loved it last time and he loves the bath. He seemed a little unsure when we toddled into the shallow end (and I mean shallow, it's a long slope which starts at the edge of the pool and after about 30-40 feet is only 2 foot deep) but generally quite happy. We went a little deeper so that the water was up to his ribs and he was still fairly happy. After a good splash and kick around, we took him a bit deeper. He clung to me so tightly it was like someone was trying to rip him from us.
You see, I lack confidence in the water even though I love it. I can't stand putting my face under the water, I don't like going out of my depth without being about two arms length from the edge and if someone splashes me then the irrational fear creeps in and I panic. My mother is petrified of the water and was determined that all four of us would not be. My father adores the water and used to go scuba-diving regularly when I was a nipper. So you think I'd follow him? Only I don't. And it stems from going swimming with him to Swansea swimming pool when I was about 9 years old. He left me in the shallow end while he went and had a quick go in the plunge pool under the diving board, and they turned the wave machine on. I got swept under and had difficulty regaining my footing. Ever since then I've freaked out.
I have always wanted The Boy to be confident in the water, hubby loves it and adores swimming under the water; testing himself if he can get from one end of the pool to the other in one breath (he can't quite). I want The Boy to love the water like that. Don't get me wrong, he did enjoy himself; he splashed and kicked, giggled and squealed with pleasure, but I just expected him to be fearless like he was last time. Maybe I pushed him too far today? All I know is that next time, we'll take it slowly and stay in the very shallow end for longer.
Oh and next time will be a lot sooner, we've decided to take him a couple of times a month from now on.
He was so tired, he fell asleep eating his lunch with a mouthful half eaten!