We are learning to swim. Not me, my daughters.
They had their first ever swimming lessons yesterday… Hooray!
Excited and dressed up in their uncomfortable swimming gear. And, on their heads, painful constricted swimming caps, I drove them to their very first swimming class somewhere in Surrey.
I am so thrilled that my girls are now finally enrolled with experts. Experts that can teach them different techniques like backstroke, front crawl, butterfly, breaststroke, etc., etc.
Why is she so thrilled about swimming lessons, you may wonder.
For me, it’s the process of getting to this point that makes me happy. You see, for over a year, the word “swim” or the phrase swimming lessons have caused a lot of husband and wife disagreements in my home. My husband J and I just couldn’t agree on how we should get our daughters swimming.
Declaration time. I do not swim.
I have always wanted to embrace swimming, but swimming has always shied away from me. In the past, I have forked out good money for swimming coaches to help. They have been unable to do this. They offer no explanations for their failure in teaching me the art of aqua body movements.
I have my explanation.
I have hefty bones. My bones are too heavy to float in water. I sink. I may be wrong but what other explanation is there? By the way, I am not portly. In fact, I have solid and lean muscles covering my skeletal system.
If you are of African descent and you are a paddler, your advice is greatly needed.
After that declaration, I better tell you why J and I did not see eye to eye on the best way to get our daughters swimming.
J, who is not a swimming teacher, felt it was his burden as a dad to get our daughters swimming. His own father got him swimming. This type of parenting, I call automatic parenting. This is when you impose on your family what your parents imposed on you.
As an obeying wife, not!. I agreed to J’s proposal. Did his proposal work? Since I do not want a divorce yet, I’ll let you answer my question.
After the first swimming lessons yesterday, I have concluded; my daughters have not inherited my hefty bones. They had better not for their own sakes.
Many have advised me that the skill of swimming is necessary in the western world. Not that we live by a river nor do I plan to throw a swimming party but I am not a careless mother; I have agreed to go with what the western world advises.
Hopefully one day, when they are able swimmers, they may just coach their mother.
And as for my husband, I hope he has now made peace that automatic parenting was not the best way to give our darling girls their swimming skills.
Thank you J for losing this battle.