This is the place.Annabelle started swimming lessons yesterday. I hadn't planned on starting her this early, but the house we are moving into next month has a swimming pool and it seems best to have her prepared.
(And for those whom I haven't spoken to in a while because I've been impossible to contact for the last four months: we're moving back to California! I finally graduated from my program and applied for a teaching position at my dream school - and got the job! Many exciting changes are underway.)
So, back to my story about swimming lessons. At the swimming pool where she is learning the brand new skills of blowing bubbles and dunking her head underwater there is this really cool water slide. It's a couple stories high, has four turns, and dumps you out in a rush of water three feet deep. Just what you would expect.
Well after Annabelle's first swimming lesson she declared:
Mom! I want to go down the water slide ALL BY MYSELF!
and then, as she walks away toward the stairs she says over her shoulder:
Catch me!
My eyes were pretty wide, but honestly, could I say no to that? So the lifeguard at the top motioned to me that she was coming and I waited at the bottom, about two inches from the lip of the slide. I couldn't see her for the duration of the ride, only the last twenty feet or so.
I see this rush of water come around the last turn and then I see Annabelle, sliding down on her side, head first, feet up in the air, obviously distressed. I'm thinking, "Oh GOD!" and I catch her and she wipes her hair away from her face and says:
I'm going to do it again!
I admit I tried to dissuade her, offered to go with her (like we'd done many times), coached her on spreading her arms and legs out like a starfish to slow down and use the sides to balance, etc. Up the stairs she went.
This time I see the rush of water and then Annabelle comes around the bend feet first and sitting up, but immediately slams her head on the side of the tube, which sets her off balance and she comes down on her back, fast, and screaming LOUD. (Those screams echo nicely in the indoor pool center, let me tell you.)
I sat on the stairs holding her while she yelled and cried and I tell her how she has an amazing amount of courage and that Mommy is very proud of her... and then I finally ask her where she hurt herself and she tells me that she isn't hurt at all, but angry because she tried really hard not to fall over. Then she wipes her face and says, through small sobs:
Okay, I'm ready to do it again.
What? Are you kidding? I start laughing, but tell her no, she's done enough and it's time to go home. She immediately stood up and stared at me with her determined, angry face:
AGAIN! NOW!
This kind of determination is something I occasionally see from her and I find it incredibly fascinating. This is not a four year old tantrum. This is not a childish want. This is someone who feels absolutely compelled and driven. So we talk through the starfish strategy together and she demonstrates what she plans to do while sitting on the edge of the pool. She even tells me that the last turn is the most difficult and she will remember to use her strong arms.
And again the lifeguard motions to me and again I wait for that rush of water. Annabelle makes the turn sitting up, arms and legs out perfectly! She wobbles a little bit, and the look on her face is one of complete worry and distress, but I catch her and she hugs me and kisses me and then says:
Again! Again! Again!
And she squirms away from me and speed walks to the stairs. She spends a lot of time talking to the lifeguard but I can't hear her words. All I see is the young man's head nodding over and over and turning to glance at me a few times. But I can easily imagine what my socially precocious daughter is telling him: "I'm four, and my name is Annabelle. And I went down this water slide one, two, three, times. And now I'm going again. That's four. And I'M FOUR! And I'm having swimming lessons. And the first time I slippy slided down on my back and the next time I hit my head. And then my mom catched me. And then I tripp trapped up the stairs to do the slide now."
This time it's absolutely perfect. The lifeguard signals to me, the water rushes around the corner, and she makes the turn with a strong starfish form, and on her face I see complete bliss. I see her pride, her happiness, her huge smile. Even before I catch her she reaches her arms out to me. In my arms we both laugh. Then she says:
Done.
Which is almost as shocking to me as her wanting to go the first time! Really? Done?
Yes, she's done. We leave the swim center and go home. Annabelle ate well, went to bed early, and slept through the night without one single peep. (Which hasn't happened in months.) And, to be honest, I don't think it was physical exertion that brought her to sleep so soundly. I think there was something really critical in her achievement... following through on her desire to do something on her own, to figure it out, to pick herself up and try again, to master the technique she wanted to use, to really will herself through the whole process.
How many adults can do what she did? How many adults can harness that much courage to keep moving toward something they want? I've thought about it all day today, wondering if I have that much determination and will to acheive something so equally critical to me in a certain moment.
The moments I experience Annabelle teaching me something aren't rare. But this one seemed really special.
She's so amazing.
