When the doctor held up our firstborn after delivery and announced, "It's a BOY!", I have to say there was a small part of me (the part that wasn't busy fainting, vomiting or cry/laugh/joy-festing) that thought...YES. Little League, here we come.
John and I both played sports most of our childhood and were hopeful that our children would like to do the same.
Soccer. Volleyball. Cheering. Basketball. Baseball. Football. Tennis. Golf.
Not once "back then" did I think...
SWIM TEAM.
Not because I didn't like it or my husband wasn't a rock star swimmer in the days of yore (because he WAS), but because I had never experienced swim team as a kid.
And I'm one of those fun types that thinks if I didn't experience it, then it probably isn't worth anyone's time.
Thoughts of swim teams only surfaced during Summer Olympic years when the sinewy V shaped swimmers took their marks after doing that strange jiggly muscle thing where their arms swing down and slap their backs and their thigh muscles detach from their legs all freaky like.
I never saw this coming:
My son. Covered in Sharpie. Singing the National Anthem. Half naked.
Last summer was Jack's first swim season. It was fun. It was outside. It was reward driven with many opportunities to win ribbons and medals. The season ended with a picnic for goodness sake!
So, clearly, we signed up for year round swimming, completed that, finished our second Summer season a few weeks ago and are heading into the year round season again.
I sense that there's a swimming vacuum that we are very close to being sucked into. I hear rumors of crazy early swim practices, and I pray that the vacuum spits us out before I find myself chugging Starbucks at 5am while I escort a minivan load of carpooling youths to the nearest (45 min away) meter pool. Please no.
So before that happens...here is how we manage swim season. The meets, in particular.
1. Bring a Sharpie.
They tell you it's for writing your kid's event, heat and lane info on their arm. This is true.
But I have found that the Sharpie is most helpful in identifying your child.
Scanning the pool deck for your skinny half naked second grader among forty other skinny half naked second graders is no fun. Write their name on their back, draw a bullseye, sketch the team logo. Anything helps.
("Eat my bubbles" is a popular phrase among most swim teams I have found.)
This season I witnessed one poor dad Sharpie a fu manchu on his daughter in a moment of desperation.
2. If you're a cool parent, bring electronics.
If you're us, bring Legos.
Yes, electronics fry your brain and increase your risk of obesity and ADHD, but on the flip side, they are responsible for decreasing the chance of finding your son searching for a misplaced FunDip under the bleachers.
Legos are a fun and wholesome alternative.
Until you step on one.
3. Give pre event pep talks.
Not surprisingly, John is the best at this. He reminds Jack of the things he has been working on with the particular stroke he's about to swim. He tells him to focus and that we are proud of his best efforts no matter what the time reflects. He comes up with a short mantra (this season was "Long and Strong").
John had to work later one evening and missed a meet so I filled this gap for him. It wasn't until the last event that Jack looked at me and said, "Mom. You have been saying Long and Lean the whole meet. I don't even know what that means."
I'll stick to being the Snack Bearer.
Which leads me to....
4. Bring snacks.
Lots of snacks. Good for you snacks like Smart Water, apples, oranges, bananas, edamame if you're fancy, peanut butter, Cheezits, Slim Jims and Skittles.
And that is the digression.
One day you're explaining to your child that you're Day 192 into a real food/no processed food switch over and you're not about to cave now.
Next thing you know, you look over and they are consuming half a bag of sour skittles and enough Red 40 to rival that of Honey Boo Boo's Go Go Juice.
5. Get the generations involved.
Gigi and Poppy Johnny saved the day on several occasions this season.
Helping with Charlie. Getting Jack to his lane when we were helping with Charlie. Helping Charlie not jump in the pool. Buying hotdogs for Finn.
6. Remind your child that this is fun, and ask them if they're having fun.
Here it appears that we failed to do this.
7. Volunteer. Your swim team depends on it.
Be a timer. A concession stand server. A ribbon labeler. An official if you're evil enough to disqualify a 6 year old girl for rolling over on her backstroke.
But.
Whatever you do, never volunteer to be a bullpen parent.
This poor soul has to wrangle a certain age group of swimmers into their lanes for each event.
Everyone starts looking the same. You're yelling names of kids you don't even know. You're high on chlorine fumes, and two of the boys can't find their goggles.
Avoid the bullpen. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Faint. Puke. Doesn't matter. Just say no.
8. Take pictures.
And label them.
With a Sharpie.
Because pictures of your half naked son from last year and this year look pretty similar.
9. Misc.
-Invest in a good pair of jammers (the newer biking short looking swim shorts that saved young men swimmers all over the world from having everyone see them in their skivvies.) Don't put them in the dryer or the elastic will wear out and one day your son will pass you at the pool and you'll realize that you are looking straight through to his little hiney.
-A Silicone swim-cap won't save you any dollars, but it will save your ears from whining and crying that a latex swim-cap deserves.
-Stock up on goggles. They are easily misplaced.
Year round season, here we come!
