July 30 12

My son has never been a strong swimmer. In fact, while his two sisters tended to have fish-like tendencies (it’s possible that one of them, if not two, has hidden gills). It never bothered me much, his complete and total lack of interest in swimming. He takes lessons; he has been in the pool every week since he was a toddler. We have done group lessons, mommy-and-me lessons, private lessons…nothing. There was something about the water that made him uneasy, uncomfortable, unhappy. But, since he was willing to show up in his swim trunks for lessons, we didn’t push him. We hoped that one day it would just click, and he wouldn’t be afraid to just let loose and stick that silly little head under the water.

And then.

Something happened.

We’ll call it…Olympic pressure?

I actually don’t even know what to call it, since quite honestly, it was nothing short of a miracle.

My son and his sister and his friends were SYNCHRONIZED JUMPING into the pool yesterday, complete with planned routines, signature finishes, and parents-as-judges. My son was jumping into the pool.

We have had bad, bad Olympic fever around here. We watched the opening ceremonies—multiple times. We (…well *I*) cried at that damn P&G Moms commercial. We cheered on Ryan Lochte—my favorite body swimmer. We rejoiced when Jennifer Abel and Emilie Heymans won Canada its first medal in London. We have been creating timetables so we can make sure to see all the sports we love. We have been googling the heights of some of the male gymnasts, judging them based on whether or not they are taller than ME or Samwise Gamgee. We have been practicing dismounts in our family room.

Biking. Swimming. Basketball. Volleyball. Gymnastics. 

We pulled out the 1996 Atlanta photos.

Because, indeed, I was there.

Because indeed, that small girl in the middle…that’s me.

I attended several events in Atlanta, but (sort-of-illegally) storming the floor after the super emotional closing ceremonies was my absolute favorite—taking random photos with random athletes.

 

And, of course, we have been having Olympic events of our very own.

Josh just shrugged it off—this miracle. “I guess I’m just a swimmer now, Mama.”

I guess so. 

Hey! Psst. Wanna discuss the very best and the very worst series finales? Come on over here!

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  1. Yay Josh! Your own special Olympic treat. Thanks for the Monday smile.

    [Reply]

    Comment by monstergirlee on July 30, 2012
  2. [...] He learned to finally not be afraid of the water. [...]

    Pingback by Double Digiting | Cheaper Than Therapy on November 2, 2012
  3. [...] Check out how the Olympics changed my son. [...]

    Pingback by Tanner and I are Basically Twins | Cheaper Than Therapy on August 9, 2013
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