I used to burden myself with the notion that I must teach my children all things. I am, after all, homeschooling mother. The bigger the challenge, bring it on!

That was back when I was schooling two children and having babies and what not.

I found out that I can’t legally teach everything, (hello, driver’s ed!), and I physically can’t teacher other things, not the least of which is swimming!

I can’t do much more than get the kids to the pool and have them practice what someone else taught them. So imagine my relief and joy when I was able to coach my 9 year old to dive yesterday at my brother and sister-in-law’s pool.

It was a lovely scene. I’m holding the 3 year old, who’s doing her usual flailing and trying to get away, but don’t you dare put me down mommy dance, and I’m watching the 7 year old who knows enough about swimming to scare me to death as he inches toward the deep water. Meanwhile, my 11 year old, who knows how to dive, but refuses, was doing something I no doubt considered slacking, because she wasn’t swimming laps and she wasn’t using the diving board. At least she wasn’t drowning, either.

The 7 year old is very driven and competitive, and she wanted to learn to dive. I have so many children that I could have sworn we’d been through this drill before–last year, actually. That was probably with the 11 year old…

Anyway, I’m barking out commands the whole time, rocking my old lady cap again. “tuck your chin,…” “I know,” she interrupts, and she demonstrates what to do with her arms. “Streamline!” I am a drill sergeant with this poor kid. I command the 11 year old to dive and show her sister how it’s done. Eleven year old is not thrilled to dive, even though she is a born teacher if I’ve ever seen one.

I am watching 7 year old, holding 3 year old, commanding 9 year old to squat and do a granny dive/baby dive, and telling her big sister to demonstrate. We are the only people in the pool at the time, but there are several adults having a barbecue behind us.

I am embarrassed by my loud forcefulness, but that’s me in the pool with the kids. All fun and games.

After a while, 9 year old gets the hang of the baby dives and is ready to stand and dive off the board. She does it! We are thrilled. She tries again, and it looks like a flop to me. “Was that a flop or a dive?” I ask her. She doesn’t know. “Does it hurt? If it hurts, it’s a flop. If it doesn’t, it’s a dive.” One of the adults at the barbecue laughs at my assessment. It hurt.

Unfased, 9 year old continues at it until she can consistently dive. Then she was ready for a canonball.

Which inspired 7 year old to do canonballs in the shallow end, and I’m thinking, is it time to go yet?

I had an unusual challenge at the aforementioned family reunion. We had a formal banquet on Saturday evening. That in and of itself was not unusual; I’m sure many families do the same. But after traveling 15 hours to get there, living out of a suitcase, and taking two young children who EXPECTED to use the pool?

I worried just a touch about that formal evening.

Just in case, I had packed all my hair products and tools, so if I had to wash my hair, I could. But I didn’t really want to add Memphis humidity to the mix of stress when it came to my hair on this already stressful trip.

So I wore my old lady swim cap.

This cap is tight, and I already had a headache, not to mention the fact that I’m usually ashamed to be seen in it. But I knew it would protect my hair from all the splashing involved with swimming with children. I also knew that I would have my hands full with my 3 year old who thinks she can swim, so I hold her as tightly as I can while simultaneously letting her kick and wiggle like a fish.

To my surprise, I got compliments for my cap! And I looked around and saw other women wearing clear shower caps, and I had to admit that my flower cap was actually pretty. And it went with my suit, so that was a bonus. I looked pulled together, in spite of myself.

I have also noted that this cap will keep the hair dry if you don’t swim on your back, so that’s a bonus too, if you’re looking to swim without getting your hair wet.

I know, swimming and dry hair do not go together, and it sounds ridiculous to even mention it, but it really comes in handy if you’re swimming laps in the 10 degree winter, or you go to a family reunion in Memphis and need to look good later that night.

My son borrowed my bike to go to the library yesterday. He returned with the serious tome, How to Survive a Zombie Attack.

One place to be safe from zombies would be a prison, the book conjectures.

But the safest place? An off-shore oil rig. Because zombies can’t swim.

Just another good reason to learn to swim, yall.

My daughter came home from lifeguarding yesterday complaining she had to get in the water.

There are more children at the Y during spring break, and my daughter ran into a non-swimmer. The young black girl jumped in the pool and didn’t know what to do when she found herself drifting away from the wall. She asked the lifeguard, (my daughter), for flotation devices. My daughter gave her some noodles, and soon discovered that the girl did not know how to use them.

The non-swimmer found herself stuck on the lane line with her feet flying out from underneath herself. She screamed bloody murder until my daughter jumped in and rescued her.

The poor girl gripping the lane line, clueless as to what to do–it reminded me of a hapless kitty suddenly finding themselves in the water.

The girl left the pool, embarrassed. I hope that’s not her last time in the water. A few swim lessons can de-catify the scariest pool visitors.

My husband gave our cat her first bath last night. He had to gently talk her out of climbing out of the tub and bolting for the nearest corner.

He also had to hold her firmly, and cut her nails beforehand.

The cat cried pitifully the whole time anyway, and desperately tried to escape the whole time.

She reminded me of black folks and water. I could see her rationalizing in her little cat brain how she’s a cat! And they don’t do water, and it works for them. They stay away from water because they’re afraid of it, so they stay away…and so on and so on.

And, it’s so cold when you get out! And, you messed up my hair!

There’s one big difference between people and cats, though. Cats already know how to swim.

My little girls started swim lessons tonight, after a month of cheerleading. They are returning swimmers, both at level 5, while their little brother, who’s been in lessons for a month, is a beginner at level 2.

For awhile tonight, it looked more like water ballet than swimming. The girls’ coach had his class form a circle so he could show them the proper backstroke arms. Everyone copied the teacher in rhythm.

Meanwhile, the head coach pulled my son’s class out of the pool so he could demonstrate proper streamline form. He had the class copy him in squatting down to the ground, putting one hand over the other, arms behind their ears, and stretching up tall, with arched backs.

It will be a minute before I get the video on here, but I’m hopefully painting a word picture here.

If the kids actually practice their dances before their next class, it should help. Note to self: Have the boy practice back float in bed daily.