Summer Days, Driftin' Away

We awoke this morning to snow silently falling...beautiful, to be sure, but definitely commonplace by this point in the season.  February tends to be a cold, wet month around here, and tomorrow will prove that point.  Our forcast is calling for 10" of snow.  This is NOTHING compared to the sufferings of our families back East, but it IS a "shoveling event," as they call it in Chicagoland.  With these things in mind, I needed a shot of summer! 

The Boys Of Summer

(is it obvious that I'm ready for the seasons to change?)

Summer 2007 - Katie & Kevin's backyard

(note the length of RT's swim trunks!)

Summer 2008 - WATERFIGHT!        Summer 2009 - Uncle R's visit

Speaking of summer - we've been taking RT swimming at our Y at least once a week. Having spent all my summers at the beloved 'Brook teaching tons of kids to swim, I am a bit of a snob when it comes to swim lessons. The good people at the Y are obviously concerned about safety, and they attempt to force a pock-marked, styrofoam floatation device on our child every time we enter the pool area.  Nevermind that the strap that wraps around RT's body gives him a rash - or better yet - that he DOES NOT NEED IT, because I will be swimming beside him the entire time.  But thank you for the offer.

Score: bare-bellied swimming - 1; gross styrofoam floaties - 0.

Now, I'm not going to begrudge parents wanting to use floaties on their kids. I get that. If you have a bunch of kids to watch at once, you're going to need a floatation device of some kind for the ones who can't swim. But if it's just you and your kid, no floaties please. 

On a recent pool trip, RT & I spent most of our time in the deep end, diving.  Yes, folks, he can dive.  Actually, let me correct that: 50% of the time he dives, 50% of the time he belly flops.  The belly flops are funnier, but the diving makes me feel really proud!  He informed me two summers ago (during the 2008 Summer Olympics) that he wanted to grow up to be Michael Phelps.  Right now he's at least on target to join our summer swim team in a year or two.  That's good enough for us.  Whether or not it is good enough for him remains to be seen!

The day he learned to move through the water on his own was terrific.  Labor Day Weekend, 2008.  The Summer Olympics had just concluded, and the two of us were at the pool.  Of course it was jammed with people, being the final weekend of the summer.  We were in the "big pool," where RT couldn't stand.  Tons of kids, RT included,were bopping around on the staircase meant for people uninterested in jumping right in.  He was a few months shy of 3 years, so I wasn't about to let go of him in the water.  Plus, it was really crowded.  He stood on the stairs and said, "Mom! Stand back."  He did he characterisitic "go-away-now" wave to further his point.  Clearly I am curious about what he is about to do.  So, I took a step back.  Not far enough for him.  He waved again, this time more exasperated because I was not complying to his simple request.

He went underwater.  I freaked out a little, because my baby boy is completely submerged and not moving.  But I checked myself and left him alone.  He found his chubby footing, pushed off the step, and came wiggling toward me - with his belly parallel to the bottom of the pool.  (Add a floatie and that never happens!)  I started laughing - that joyful, totally goofy laugh you get when you are surprised by how proud and emotional you are - and then he was back in my arms, slippery and glowing with pride.  He wanted to do it again and again and again.  Of course I let him.  And I let myself give in, blissfully, to the feeling that my kid is really cool and talented and brave.

Score: bare-bellied swimming - 2; gross styrofoam floaties - 0.

This feeling (shared by P, too) has set the stage for a lot of fun in the water.  RT is extremely comfortable in the pool, to the chagrin of the YMCA lifeguards.  They are, however, beginning to see that he does better without one of those styrofoam floaties.  Just last weekend the pool director was walking by the deep end as Tommy was getting ready to jump in (P was right there).  She grew agitated, and marched over to the lifeguard, presumably to tell him that such a small kid should absolutely not be in the deep end.  Dad overheard the lifeguard tell her, "No. The kid can swim.  Let it go."

Score: bare-bellied swimming - 3; gross styrofoam floaties - 0.