Things I've learned at the pool

Has it really been two weeks already since my last blog? Where does the time go? People keep saying to me you think time goes fast now just wait till they start school. If time goes any faster my head will literally be spinning in circles.

We're almost finished with the second week of swimming lessons for our twins. It's their first time in lessons and I cannot believe the difference in my little fishes. Tristan has always been a daredevil in the water jumping off the ledges of the pool and the diving board with abandon pretty much since he figured out he could jump. The lessons have given him a whole new skill set and seeing your kids excel at something is thrilling. In keeping with his daredevilness (and yes I realize that's not technically a word) not too long ago Tristan decided he wanted to do the tunnel waterslide at our rec. centre by himself. The first time he asked I said an unequivocal no. Are you kidding me? Let my precious baby slide through a tunnel of water out of my sight for 20 long seconds hoping he makes it to the bottom without drowning? I don't think so. The second time he asked I said no. What part of not wanting to see you drown do you not understand? Many, many, many, many, many "can I's" later I relented. There is something to be said for perseverance.

However, like all moms, I couldn't let Tristan go without some instructions, "Don't lay down on your back. Don't lay down on your stomach. When you get to the bottom stand up right away and walk to the end of the recovery area and wait for me." And then I repeated them. And then since he had been looking longingly at the slide instead of at me I made Tristan repeat them. And then I might have repeated them one more time for good measure. And then I let him go.

I stood at the top of the tunnel and watched my son push off from the edge with my heart in my throat. As he went around the first corner he looked back and threw me a smile of such exhilaration and joy and mischief that I almost dove in after him, so strong was the urge to scoop him up and hold him tightly to my chest sheltering that smile and that heart for all times. Instead, with one hand across my stomach, though that doesn't really make the nausea go away, and one hand at my mouth, though that doesn't really stop the tears from sneaking out, I held my breath and waited for his little form to reappear at the bottom. That was the longest 25 seconds of my life.

At about 15 one-thousand, I almost went in after him. At 24 one-thousand I was sure he had drowned. And then, a little flash of red and a mop of hair and a sunrise exploded in my soul. He never even glanced up as he splashed his way to the end of the recovery zone but I could feel his grin and the joy radiating from his body from 3 stories up. I threw myself down that waterslide as fast as I could, paddling like a madwoman to go faster, faster; I needed to wrap my arms around his tiny frame and hold him tight and lay my cheek on the top of his head. Not for him, he was fine. More than fine, he was antsy to do it again; I needed to hold him for myself. Because with time going at the rate it is, who knows how long I'll have to hold him tight to me, he trembling with joy and pride, me trembling because I've realized yet again he does not truly belong to me, that he has his own path to carve, his own destiny to fulfill. And I'm excited for him and the journey ahead and I know this is just the beginning of a long line of smiles he'll throw back to me from over his shoulder, the beginning of a long list of accomplishments to be proud of, the beginning of greater and greater lengths of time where he will be out of my sight and out of my arms reach. But for now, for today, with my heart full and my throat burning to keep the tears at bay, I will hold him tight, while I still can.