Just craptacular

During this, the first week of summer, Lindsay has been taking swimming lessons at the Y. She was excited about the lessons for the 3 weeks leading up to them, and then for the first 2 classes. Then she decided she hates swimming lessons with the fire of a thousand suns. She begins whimpering as soon as we enter the pool area. By the time I've secured her bubble (small foam flotation device), she has worked herself to a steady whine. I lower her kicking and screaming into the instructor's arms and leave the pool area. She cries through the entire lesson, "I want my mommy" until a half hour later, I come back in with a towel and take her out of there.

There are 3 instructors for the 8-kids ages 3-5. One of the instructors was someone I hadn't seen before - an older woman in her 60s probably. As I tried to coax Lindsay to sit on the edge of the pool with the other kids (and she clung to my leg), the woman said, "She's wearing a diaper?" as though this was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever seen. I replied, "Yes." I thought about pointing out that they allow kids with diapers in the pool, and she's wearing the requisite rubber pants on top of them, but she clearly had her opinion of me already. I lowered Linds into the pool into Sarah's arms, "Have fun. I'll be watching outside."

I stood at the window. She sobbed. I waved. She sobbed more. I walked away and tried to read my book, about 8 feet away. I walked over about 5 minutes later. She was still sobbing. When it was her turn, she shook her head, and I could see her saying, "I want my mommy."

The other mothers all looked at me standing there. One of them said, "What happened? She was fine until yesterday."

"I don't know. She hates it though. I thought maybe it was because she didn't want the lifeguard to put on her bubble because she doesn't know him and she gets nervous around people she doesn't know..." my voice trailed off.

"Well," she said staring at me. "I don't know how you can do this to your child," she punctuated it with a laugh as though she might be kidding, but it was clear from her tone that she wasn't.

I stood there. I didn't say anything. I watched Lindsay cry more.

The mom looked from me to Lindsay several times and said nothing.

I went back to my chair and grabbed Lindsay's towel. I saw the lead instructor sitting on a nearby bench.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but my daughter is in the pool crying. She cried all through last class. She's not participating at all. I'm wondering if I should go in there and take her out. She's not getting anything out of the class, and she's probably a big distraction for the other kids."

"No. You shouldn't take her out," he said. "If her crying becomes dangerous for her, the lifeguard will come out and get you. They won't let her get hurt. Sometimes kids get scared, and the best thing to do is to let them work through it. When the class is over, be positive and encouraging, and let her know that you're proud of her for trying..."

"I am just..." my voice faltered, and at this point someone interrupted to ask him a question about something else, and I walked away, sat back down in my chair. I opened my book but couldn't manage to read it. I breathed and willed myself to not cry. She is not hurt. She is not in danger.

When the class ended, I came into the room with the first of the parents. Lindsay was in back of the line and ran to me, yelling, "I am NOT going to jump in the pool. I don't want to. I am not going to. No jumping in." I took off her bubble and wrapped her in her towel.

As I got her dressed, she said, "I am never going to go back to swimming lessons."

Budgetary Restraint

"So, Mom," she began, "I was thinking...that...I'd really like to get the doll that's Samantha's best friend..."

"Hmm," I replied, "I don't think I can afford that. The doll is more than a hundred dollars, and I just don't have an extra $100 in my budget."

"But you got $200 yesterday!"

"Yes, but that's the money I have to use to buy groceries, gas, things you need at school..."

"Oh. I understand." She replied. "But I really want the doll."

"Well," I said, "Maybe you can ask one of your grandparents..."

"Okay."

***

Today, I put Lindsay in underpants. "I don't have money to keep buying diapers."

Lauren looked a little alarmed. "Wow, you spent $200 already?"

[author note: I've already changed an outfit for a pee pee accident, so this is going about as well as expected]

On the drive to school, she said, "I think I'm going to ask Nanny."

My hands tightened on the steering wheel. Mommy spent all her money and now she can't buy diapers, I heard in my head, followed by a sharp gasp. It sounds like an Irish novel. "Ask Nanny for what?"

"The doll."

"Oh." Oh! Oh ok.

"Except I can't remember her name..."

"Nellie?"

Lauren laughed, "I kept thinking her name was Smelly."

I laughed out loud. "That'd be a pretty terrible name, wouldn't it?"

Lauren laughed.

Omnious milestones

Here's Lindsay having her post vaccination treat - a strawberry frosted donut with rainbow sprinkles. She felt the Ming Ming sticker didn't match up with her pain and suffering, and hey, I can always go for an iced coffee.

At 3 years old, Lindsay weighs 26 pounds and is 35 inches tall. The doctor tells me that is just shy of the 10th percentile for both height and weight. She stubbornly refused to speak to or in front of the doc, he had to go out of the room to observe her language skills (which are considerable) and laughed when the answer to all his questions was "when she feels like it" (eg, Does she use the potty? When she feels like it. Does she eat well? When she feels like it.) The nurse batted an eye at "She doesn't drink milk" (why are they so obsessed with milk?), but the doctor did not. He also diagnosed the angry itchy patch inside her elbow as eczema, which was a relief because we thought it might be ringworm and it just won't go away. It was doing better for a while with tea tree oil, but now it isn't. He recommended hydrocortizone cream, which also seems for crap.