Brave and Strong

I survived my first swimming lesson.

And I didn't panic, drown, or - worst of all - pee my swimsuit.

I was, however, super nervous.

I got to the gym 20 minutes early, quickly changed into my swimsuit (and yes, hair clip and goggles) and then hid out in a bathroom stall until my lesson. Also, I might've texted my husband and a couple close friends from said stall. (Hey, I wasn't actually using it at the time; I was just hiding in there.)

This thought kept crossing my mind: "I can still back out. I can still back out." No, I didn't act on it. Instead, I forced myself to walk out to the pool area and meet my swimming instructor, Linda. The one who isn't a drill sergeant, by the way. Yes, she's direct and opinionated. But she's also patient and funny and an awesome swimmer.

She's the perfect teacher for me.

Linda was right about the goggles and the hair clips - they helped a lot. I do need a more functional swimsuit, though, as my instructor may have (tactfully) pointed out. My cute navy tankini with the little skirt bottom was ridiculous in the pool. Every time I got into the water, my skirt ballooned out and then "passed gas."

Lovely.

Linda told me that learning when and how to breathe in the water is the most important skill in swimming. So I spent most of my time face down in the water. It started with blowing bubbles in water that I cupped in my hands, which I'm certain looked ridiculous to everyone around us. Then we moved on to lots of front floating and some back floating. This wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.

I'd like to say that the lesson was fun and easy, and that as soon as I got into the water, my fears just floated away...

...but that's not what happened.

It was hard and it was scary, especially at first. I did get more comfortable as the lesson progressed, but it never felt easy. Every time I had to put my face down in that water and blow air and float (or whatever), I had to give myself a little pep talk. I looked at the bottom of the pool and counted to ten to take my mind off my fears. Being underwater definitely takes some getting used to.

Still, I'm doing it. I can't believe I'm finally doing it. And I've signed up for at least six more lessons.

This post might sound dumb to those of you who have been swimming most of your lives. It probably would to me if I'd figured out this stuff at age 5 instead of 35.

For me, though, it's kind-of a big deal. It takes courage to face your fears, whatever they may be.

My sweet Sunshine understands this oh, so well. She struggles with a couple big fears of her own. Ever since I mentioned taking swimming lessons, she's been my cheerleader and number one fan. Last night, before I left the house for my swimming lesson, I told her that I didn't want to go.

She gave me a hug and she prayed with me.

"Dear Jesus. Please help my mom at her swimming lesson. Help her to be brave and strong. Amen."

I know that He answered her prayer.

Time to Panic

Which mixed-up (but well-intentioned) person wrote a blog post about how she's scared of the water and needs to overcome that fear? Who made learning to swim her New Year's Resolution? Who asked her blogging friends to support her in that goal?

This crazy girl.

I may be reconsidering the wisdom of that - the resolution and posting it to my blog. Seriously reconsidering.

Why?

My first lesson is tomorrow.

TOMORROW!

Last week, I visited a local gym that offers adult swimming lessons. I toured the gym and checked out the swimming pools. I felt fine. No fear, no panic. Nothing. After all, overcoming your biggest fear sounds smart in theory. Just like asking your blogging friends to hold you accountable sounds mature in theory.

My future swimming instructor sounded pretty great too - in theory.

Back to the gym tour...my conversation with the aquatics director (AD) went something like this:

Me: "Do you offer swimming lessons for adults?"
AD: "Yes. Are you interested in a class or private lessons?"

(Do I really need to humiliate myself in a class? I think not.)

Me: "Private lessons."
AD: "Are you training for a triathlon? We have a great instructor who teaches techniques for triathlon swimming. She's got excellent form."
Me: "That might be a little advanced for me."

(And I just won Understatement of the Year.)

Me: "I probably need to learn to swim first."
AD: "Oh." Long pause. "How comfortable are you with being underwater?"

(Hmm. Let's see. On a scale of one to ten, with 1 being uncomfortable and ten being comfortable? I'd be a zero.)

Me: "I'm not comfortable being underwater."
AD: "Then I have the perfect instructor for you. She works really well with people of your experience level. I'll have her call you to talk more about your goals."

Great. I like talking about my goals. And thinking about them. And ruminating, discussing, or focusing on them. (Anything but doing, really.) Besides, I could picture this  "beginner's" swimming instructor as a kind, patient person. Someone who helps the struggling non-swimmers. Kinda like a kindergarten teacher for swimming.

She'd be perfect! I wasn't worried; I just waited for her call, so we could talk about my goals.

That call came today, and my conversation with the swimming instructor (SI) wasn't exactly what I expected. Instead, it went something like this:

SI: "This is Linda from the gym. Am I speaking with Denise?"
Me: "Yes, hi. It's good to talk to you."
SI: "You're interested in swimming, right? I can schedule you for tomorrow."
Me: "Oh, um...great. Let me check my calendar."

(Tomorrow is really soon. Can't we talk about my goals first? Darn it. I'm free. Why can't I have a root canal or a pap smear or something fun scheduled for tomorrow?)

Me: "Yeah...I, uh...can do that."
SI: "Do you have a swimsuit?"
Me: "Yes, I do."
SI: "Wear it."

(Hmm. She sounded unusually direct for such a sweet person.)

SI: "How about goggles?"
Me: "I don't have those."
SI: "Well, get some."
Me: "Oh, okay."
SI: "And not those cheap two-dollar kind from the Dollar Store either. Get some that fit tightly against your face to keep water out. Like Speedo."

(Is now be the time to point out that goggles from the Dollar Store would only cost a dollar? No, I didn't think so.)

SI: "Your hair can't be getting in the way all the time, either. You need clips or a cap to keep it out of your face. Understand?"
Me: "Yes."

(Swimsuit...check. Quality goggles...check. Hair holder...check. Should I ask about arm floaties?)

SI: "That's all I can think of for now. Bye."
Me: "Okay. Bye."

Oh, man. Tomorrow, I'm meeting my drill-sargeant-turned-swimming-instructor for my first swimming lesson as an adult. I've moved out of theory and into reality.

It's officially time to panic.

We Got Mail...BIG Mail

About a month ago, we got a very large, heavy package in the mail. No, I'm not talking about our IRS audit letter; it was deceptively light and airy.

By large, I mean that this item wasn't in a box, but on a pallet. And by heavy, I mean that I couldn't lift it myself because it weighed over 700 pounds.

Needless to say, the package did not fit in our mailbox.

It took the delivery truck driver and one of my neighbors half an hour to unload it and move it into our garage. Any guesses about what's in it? (The wavy green slide might be a giveaway.)

Yep, it's a playground. A sturdy one. Here it is a couple weeks later, after my husband unpacked it and took an inventory of the (several hundred) parts and pieces. C.R.'s really handy little brother helped him assemble the thing.

My critical contribution was iced mocha lattes and sloppy joes.

C.R. and I are budget-conscious nerds, so this playground was a (cash) splurge for us. So far, I think it's one of the best purchases we've ever made. My kids love the playground. We've already spent many hours playing on it as a family.

Check out these happy faces!