9.42am: Having enrolled onto a swimming class for Eleanor I thought it would be rude not to share. Let me state that this was Dad’s doing, he had enrolled us. I am keen for Eleanor to learn to swim, of course I am. However, I’d have chosen to go on a weekend as a family to the pools before divulging into lessons, alone. I mean, I stand and cling to the wall of the pool. Not exactly a good role model in the water.
Anyway, we are currently going to work through a ten week block of lessons on a Tuesday afternoon with Aquatics Aberdeen. Let’s see how we get on.
Already, we missed the first two classes from the block due to illness. Something that came as a blessing in disguise in my opinion. I know the importance of swimming and that it is very much a life skill. It’s just, I can’t help but hate the water.
Unless I’m on my own two feet, on solid ground, I’m uneasy. It’s the same with driving, I legally hold a licence, own a car yet refuse to drive. My car is nothing other than a storage spot. I won’t get into driving though, I’m here to talk swimming.
9.59am: Class day, I’m showered and ready to roll. The bags are packed with everything we should need, or at least I think I have everything. Let’s hope so. Swimming nappies, fresh towels and some pants, if all else fails at least my baby will have a clean nappy and we will both be dry after the class.
The preparation I have put into this day could compete with the preparation athletes put in on the build up toward a big game. Perhaps not on a physical level, but mentally, this is serious shit..
I’m not afraid of the class, I’m afraid of the reactions and being in public alone with Eleanor. Oh, and being in a bikini. I’m sure post partum diastis recti has my tummy looking all wobbly and gross. The mum pooch as it is commonly called. Real nice.
Not exactly bikini fit but I can’t wear a plunge neck swimsuit to class. The only swimsuit I own. My baby will be digging her claws into my chest trying to get to the boob (she is an obsessive cluster feeder)
Now, as I sit here watching the clock and feeding Eleanor, I already feel the dread build up. Ive felt it since we enrolled, I thought about it all last night. I just know that a swimming class with an 11 week old who is grumpy and wants nothing more than to feed will be a nightmare. I can imagine the cries, the scene.
Other parents staring at this unsuitably, unqualified new Mum struggle with herself and her baby. I know that I will feel like a failure should this go poorly and I don’t think I’m in the mood to feel that way today. Safe to say, I am not looking forward to the whole rigmarole of the changing room and the dynamics of the class.
I’m going to give this a breather for now, have a coffee or ten and try to prepare for this highly anticipated class in but a few hours time. I’ll continue with the details when I’m back home, cosy and recovered both mentally and physically. Yes, it’s all very dramatic.
10.15am: Oh damn, I’ve just came to realise that I’ve forgotten the wheels for the Pram. They are in the car. Not only do I have fear of going to class, I now have to take my baby to swim class, alone, in her carrier. In the rain. Even the elements are against me. I’m screaming for an excuse not to go.
Hold tight for the review..