No more shame

Yesterday I took my son swimming at a local indoor pool. The one half-hour weekly swim lesson has just hardly seemed sufficient time in the water for my boy, especially noting that in the last couple of lessons he has started to have fear of the water, which was a new development - and I attribute it to not enough exposure. I have relied on my brother to take him a few times, and he's always had the best time. My brother is a swimmer and a great teacher, and just very patient. I'm not really. And most of that has to do with feeling absolutely body-ashamed in a swimsuit. I actually love to be in the pool, and have missed out for years. Because, again, I am ashamed of my body. In the past few months, however, I promised myself that I would do everything I could to both love my baby-producing body (when it was 41 even) and gain the courage to try again, at least for my kid and maybe also eventually, for myself. It wasn't easy, in fact it was terrifying. But other than the chaos that comes with managing a 3 year old through a locker room to a swimming pool, it was okay. Sometimes having this active child to focus on and no time for personal care, is a bonus. I literally had only the presence of mind to keep him safe, not hold in my stomach. The world didn't end. No one pointed or made fun of me (at least not out loud) and we had fun. Only for the hour-long family swim, and thankfully, not very many people were there because it was a stunningly beautiful day outside. But still, I did it. And I'll do it again.

Finding Balance

When I was trying to get pregnant, I would think of all the things my child and I would do and experience together, and all the opportunities and activities I would make sure he/she had access to, just as soon as he was old enough. Then when he was an infant, I was excited for when he was old enough to start lessons for sports and music, when he'd be reading, when he could count. And now that he is starting to be at that point, I am finding myself pulling up those reins and trying to slow it all down. Of course. Now, when I fill up our weekends with activities and visits and events, we get to Sunday night exhausted and I wish I'd taken the time to just be together, to rest, and recuperate from the long week before. Striking the right balance is hard. And because he's an only child, anytime we have the opportunity to sustain or build our village, I just feel we have to take it. I actually get anxious about missing out on time with friends and family, and mostly on his behalf. But as we approach summer and all the fun things that come with it, I am trying to strike a better balance, and to advocate for it for him - and even with myself for me. It's a challenge. I'm learning that 30 minutes of play by himself, with his toys, in his room, is absolutely critical for him to decompress; that he still digs a stroller walk at 3.5 because it's just the two of us and it's relatively quiet and relaxing; that popcorn and a movie from the couch is another form of quiet time together; reading stories on his bed helps him learn but also helps him concentrate. All of these things are equally critical to exercise and activity and social interaction. So now I strive for balance, for us both.