We all survived Lily's first swimming lesson and no sharks were drawn to the area.
I believe it was near 80 degrees this past Saturday, which could actually put one in the mood for some swimming. Not so yesterday. I am not a good photographer, but here is a shot of what was left of the icicles outside the gym yesterday afternoon. Not impressive to those of you who are surrounded by drifts of snow, but to those of us who only get a couple of ice days a year, I was hoping that her first swim lesson being on one of them wasn't a bad omen.
The indoor pool area had to be warmed to at least 90 degrees. They call it temperate, I call it a furnace. And for a mom who was already literally sweating over the lesson anyway, it really prevented me from at least looking calm, cool and collected. I'll be dressing more appropriately next time.
Here is Lily's "Mom, are you sure its time for swimming lessons?" look.
Now she's ready to conquer the water. All three inches of it.
I thought I'd be heading up to the bikes for a little spin and a bird's eye view, but it became apparent that I would be needed for support. My support consisted of telling her that she needed to do everything that the coach asked her to do and that if she cooperated we would go get a hot fudge sundae with lots of whipped cream and a cherry afterward.
I thought I would get some shots of the action, but quickly realized that people will stare down their nose at you for having a camera out in a place where various aged people are in various stages of undress.
So here is a quick non-pictorial description of the half hour that seemed like six.
Within the first five minutes she came running out of the water so fast that she slipped and did a complete wipe out. Tears ensued. Great.
By the time I got her calmed down, the coach was taking the other little student toward the deep end (3 feet...an abyss in Lily's mind) where there were two benches immersed in the water, one at the edge and the other about 8 feet out.
It took everything in me to get her to stand on the bench at the wall. I really felt for her. I was thankful that I hadn't shaved my legs or else I would have just rolled up my pants and gotten in with her. The Lord's provision in the tiniest of things. Leg hair.
She got in!
While the other little boy and her took turns with the coach going back and forth between the two benches, Lily's grasp had to be sucking the air right out of the coach. I was glad I had trimmed and filed her nails. The other little boy progressed to kicks and back floating and all sorts of other maneuvers under the guiding of the coach's arm.
Lily just clung.
Until the last little pass between the benches.
With the encouragement of her coach, she let go. With one hand. And waved to her mama. For like half of a millisecond.
And then she clung again, but her face shone with such pride for releasing that clutch for that solitary moment. She was beaming.
And to me, that was worth the hot fudge sundae folks.
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