Swimmy Classes

Although I hesitate to post this because I haven't written anything about Ethan lately with all that is going on with Aiden, and this isn't the most glowing review of Ethan's "almost two" behavior, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to try to get some pity from my fellow mothers-of-young-ones...

Tonight was the first "swimmy class" at the YMCA for Ethan. We signed up for the Super-Tots class which included 6 boys Ethan's age and one little 8-month old girl who was apparently in the wrong class (and was unfortunately stuck next to "Mr. I Like to Splash-A-Lot" Ethan).

I had participated in the swimming classes thing with Ethan a year or so ago and he had such a blast that I knew I wanted to do them again with him in the future. So, ever the "trying to be the model parent", I signed us up once again now that things with Aiden are relatively under control from a surgery standpoint. Ricky and I want to make an effort to do things with Ethan individually so that we balance our time spent with both kids by themselves. He was super excited for our first class, as we've been building it up for a couple days now.

At first, things went pretty smooth. I packed my bag in advance so as not to rush out the door forgetting the essentials like a towel for both of us, which I'd done in the past (and let me tell you it was a heart-wrenching decision on whether I should use the only towel I brought to wrap my infant son to keep him warm or drape it around my "not-quite-what-they-used-to-be" thighs as we scurried back to the locker room). Ultimately, I think I made the "best" choice by choosing warmth for my son. "Best" being a loose term for "most responsible" in this scenario.

However within a few short minutes I was reminded of just how ornery Ethan could be. After jumping in (and splashing the poor 8-month old next to us), Ethan immediately announced that he was going poo-poo. I panicked, not sure whether his "Lil-swimmer" diaper was capable of handling number two. I put my hand on his bottom trying to see if I could indeed feel any poo in his shorts. In my head I kept envisioning that scene from Caddy Shack ("Don't worry, it's just a Snicker's bar"), only in this case it wouldn't be a Snicker's bar and we really would have to evacuate for poo's sake.

Luckily it was just a false alarm - which I figured out by the lack of any bulk in his swimming trunks and his next announcement that he had "just tooted". I swear he is ALL BOY!

The next few minutes of the 30-minute class went well. He enjoyed being in the pool and I can already tell that he's going to be some combination of a show-off and/or teachers pet. As silly as he is most of the time, every time the teacher asked him to do something, he got really serious and did exactly as she asked. (As in: You want me to lay on my back...completely still...as you sing each and every verse of Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star? No problem. But if it were my mom asking me to do it...not a chance!)

But I was soon brought back down to earth when my well-behaving son caught a glimpse of the basket of toys the teacher brought for the class. In it were 10-15 balls, 6 cups and numerous other trinkets that were apparently calling Ethan's name. Once he saw them it was over. "I want to play with that!" he proclaimed quietly enough that I thought I could still control the situation. Unfortunately, the next thing the teacher wanted us to do was to set our "Super-Tots" up on the wall to have them jump off into our outstretched arms. Of course, compliant, I put Ethan up on the wall knowing full well that he wasn't going to last 3 seconds standing there.

He darted over to the basket of toys and proceeded to pick it up and flip it over, spilling the entire contents across the wet pool room floor. Before I could lug my "not-quite-what-they-used-to-be" thighs out of the pool, he sensed my disappointment and took off. I hurried across the slick floor and nabbed him just before he could jump in the therapy pool with the "over 60" aqua-aerobics class. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper.

We stuck it out through the rest of the class. But I will tell you that Ethan got a stern talking-to in the locker room afterwards. I then reported the whole event to Ricky via cell phone and made an executive decision that going forward, we would take turns bringing the little goober every week. :)

After it was all said and done, I'm still glad that I decided to sign us up for what Ethan calls "Swimmy Classes". I know he enjoys it and that makes me happy. I just have to keep reminding myself that although he sometimes acts like he is much older than he is, he really is not even two years old yet and he will continue to test my patience time and time again. The struggle for me will be learning how to deal while also learning how to discipline.