Swim Lessons

My baby girl swims now. She's a swimmer.

Well, ok that may be an exaggeration. She definitely flails, she kinda kicks. Oh and she for sure chokes and splutters when you dunk her (not my idea, blame the swim teacher!)

We started swim lessons about a week ago, and the girl took to them instantly. As I have mentioned before, I won't allow any insinuation that my progeny aren't natural swimmers because "IT'S IN THE GENES"; but she even surprised me with how comfortable she seemed in the water. Since Adair has done basically everything to keep this child alive for the last 10 months, I jumped at swim lessons as my opportunity to take the lead on a parenting job and maybe give the wife some time (27 minutes) to herself. 

The lessons themselves though, are bananas. Let's go through them bit by bit here:

Location: Oregon City Pool

When I said I would never move to the suburbs, I meant it, and I stand by it. I can't afford to live in Portland (on just a lawyer's AND teacher's salary), but I would be DAMNED before I moved to Beaverton or Tigard. So I moved to Oregon City, basically the Alabama of Oregon. People still smoke in Oregon City. People eat fast food here. The sidewalks are my playground because nobody fucking walks anywhere. Oh, and did I forget to mention I LOVE IT? These are my people. I may be an ivory tower liberal but at least here I can dress like shit in public and never wait in line to get into a restaurant. Sure, my neighbor down the street drives his souped up Jeep around with an American flag AND a Confederate traitor flag flapping out the back, but at least I can afford my house.

Aaaaanywho, my point is that the OC Pool is a microcosm of my town. It's Oregon City in miniature. This place is wholesome! It smells awesome! Everyone is poor and fat and nobody cares. My baby girl and I belong here.

Class: Water Babies. Level 1.

I don't know what the exact age range is, but generally all these other kids seem like they are under the age of two. I am pretty sure the minimum age was six months, and my gal is about the youngest in the class at 10 months. 

First realization: man that is a huge age range. The differences between a six month old and a two year old are massive. Pretty much the only thing that any of these kids have in common is that they can't swim. Some of the older kids are laughing and jumping around, while mine pretty much just sits in one of my hands and flails about and swallows a shitload of chlorine.

Not to complain about the curriculum of the class here, but this age range comes with some occasionally disparate outcomes for the students. One of the activities is jumping off the side into Dad's/Mom's arms. My girl can't stand yet, so...we don't get much out of that exercise. Same with kickboards: "Yeah I can't really explain to her what that is, so, we'll just play with this floating triceratops, thanks."

Teacher: Spunky little OC Teen

I don't know what I was expecting here, but I have never been taught anything by anyone younger than me. My goal in general is not to associate with anyone who was born after 9/11, and this damn swim class is getting in the way.

I mean, I guess she seems sweet and I am glad to see kids getting a little cash from someone other than their parents so...fine, I'm on board.

Strengths: self confidence, positivity, hair bun skills, I assume she knows CPR

Weaknesses: GOD this girl needs to learn to speak up. This pool is loud, kid! I can't learn the lyrics to the "Wash Our Feet" song if you don't up the volume a bit.

Other Kids: Hilarious.

I am on record as not having much love for children who are not my own. That said, I am kind of  learning to enjoy seeing all these little jerks have such a great time. 

Well, most of them have a great time. One poor little boy just sobs for 30 minutes, crying for his mom. His dad puts on a brave face and tries to be sensitive to it, but you can see it in his eyes "Holy god this punctures me to my core."

Otherwise its a typical mixed bag. Some kids splash so you avoid them, other kids mostly just try to punk their parents the whole time, some kids clearly love it, and some kids are just there to take in the wonderment of it all. Mine falls into that category. She mostly just gazes in wide-eyed awe at how cool the big kids in the other swim classes are, with their goggles and name-brand one-pieces.

From a dad's perspective, watching the big kids gives me a small look into what my gal is going to be getting up to as she grows up, and it's Gorillas-in-the-mist fascinating. Watching all their little cliques form and disband; watching the cool kids, the confident kids, the weird kids, the fat kids; watching the different awkward stages of life and fashion and acne all in one place is pretttttty amazing. I'd love to write an academic paper on it but my only barrier to all-out creepiness is the fact that I bring my own kid along. Me observing the children at this pool without my baby girl seems...untoward.

Other Parents: Even more hilarious.

In my ten months as a parent, I have spent like...four cumulative hours with other parents? I don't get much enjoyment out of commiserating about being a dad (hey this blog doesn't count; here I am merely complaining out into the ether, ok? There's no back and forth).

But, since I don't actually have time to interact with these other parents, (we are all too busy acting as our own anti-drowning police force) it's good to get firsthand evidence that everyone else is having as insane of a time as we are trying to raise well-adjusted non-psychopaths to send out into the world. It's honestly kind of uplifting to see that outside of the massive amount of negativity we are all experiencing in this world right now, little stories are still being told that make you realize people are still just living their lives and trying to find something fun to do with their kids.

Dads are present with their daughters, moms are patient with their sons. Most of us proudly display our stretch marks. All of us paid money to go through these ridiculous motions for 27 minutes three times a week just to make our little idiots happy. There is a shared earnestness about the whole thing that really is quite charming, and I think it's my first taste of many to come: that dealing with kids takes over your whole life and there really isn't any hope of you retaining those old habits or insecurities. There's no time for that, you are too busy fostering someone else's insecurities and hangups to care anymore about your own. It's the best.