Level I - Redux

I missed the sign ups a few weeks back for our usual Saturday morning swim lessons and our usual spots have been filled. With Tonester's new PM work schedule - twice weekly evening swim lessons seemed like a great time filler.

At the end of the last session, Domino was "promoted" to level 2 and Rascal remained in level 1. You can imagine the drama that created. Domino 's been in level 1 for almost 3 years (off and on) and he's seen his friends advance levels while he has stayed behind. He's been talking about his new level 2 status for weeks. He's so proud of himself! Finally! Level 2!!

Tonight was our first evening swimming lesson. It took about 10 minutes for the level 2 instructor to look at Domino's complete inability to get his head wet and decide he was not level 2 material. I knew it was coming. I could see it from across the pool. Other kids were wildly bobbing up and down, sinking down to the bottom of the pool together - and there's Domino barely getting his face into the water. The teacher was trying to explain to Domino and sadly - Domino actually thought he was doing a good job.

So - the teacher pushed him across the pool to the level 1 group with a "Here - this kid belongs with you".

The heartbreak!! (His and mine). He cried at the side of the pool at his "failure" (his words, not mine) and another lifeguard did his best to cheer him up. Rascal kept trying to ask him what happened and that just upset Domino further. I wanted to scoop him up out of the pool and tell him he was doing great, no matter what level he was in, but I knew this was something he was going to have to handle on his own.

And it sucked.

After the lesson was over I had 2 freezing cold and wet boys to deal with - one who was sobbing uncontrollably, the other who kept saying "Why did they move Domino to level 1 Mom? Why? Why? Why?"

In the fall, the recreation department covers the pool with a big tent similar to a fumigation tent. The tent fits around the perimeter of the pool with just a little extra space for walking. All of the bleacher seating is gone and the dozens of parents in attendance are forced to jockey for a few plastic chairs with minimal head room. The ground is sopping wet and the humidity inside the tent causes the ceiling to drip water everywhere.

In the warmer months, both kids hop out of the pool and head straight for the warm outdoor showers. I am able to get one kid dried and dressed while the other stays cozy in the shower until I am ready for them. The circus tent over the pool doesn't include the showers so getting both kids warm and dry simultaneously poses a serious challenge. Why in the world don't they have any "family dressing rooms"?! I can't bring my 2 boys into the changing area in the women's locker room, and I certainly am not comfortable in the men's changing area. What's a mom of 2 young boys supposed to do?

Trying to get the kids dressed proved to be more of a challenge than I was expecting. I wrapped a shivering Rascal up in a towel and plopped him on to the wet seat and instructed him to hold all our stuff. I then attempted to change and console Domino poolside with people walking around us. He was uncooperative and clingy, 2 of my least favorite characteristics in a 6 year old. I wanted to be gentle and loving, supportive and encouraging - but by god when that kid told me that he needed goggles and that's why he couldn't do level 2, the same kid that has refused the 4 different styles of goggles I have bought for him - I really just wanted to wring his neck. The more I tried to help him get his wet feet into his pants, the more they seemed to get stuck inside the lining and caught inside, frustrating us both further.

In the struggle to get Domino's pants on I toppled over backwards onto my butt and got soaking wet from the cement. As a bonus for those around me, the pants I chose to wear today are cut horribly wrong for my figure and I was flashing everyone my derriere in the process. Meanwhile, Rascal is shivering and people are having to walk over us to both leave from our class and come in for the next. By the time I was ready to get Rascal dry, I was ready to give up the "modesty towel" and just strip him down and dress him in front of everyone. We were quite the floor show.

After finally getting everyone dried and dressed (and me wet and exposed) we headed out and home where I had to whip up dinner, supervise homework, console a broken heart and distract a preschooler.

There's just not enough of me to go around.