Swimming lessons and jeeps

So, somehow I came across the fact that some places offer swimming lessons for children as young as six months. Instantly, my curiosity was peaked so I casually mentioned to Chris that they offered such a thing and wondered out loud if they offer it for 15-month-olds as well. Which, I should just mention, they do at your local YMCA. At the closest YMCA to us (we don’t have one where we live, but are getting one supposedly next year), it’s $75 a lesson per child per session. It would be $40, but of course, we’re not members because a family membership fee is $100 to join and $75 a month after. Umm…no. Rip-off much?

Anyway…I’m starting to think I have ADHD but that’s another post for another time. Swimming lessons.

So, I casually mentioned looking into swim lessons for our water monkey to take and Chris casually mentioned he thought it was silly to have lessons for 6-month-olds. I agreed, but that wasn’t the point, she is almost 15 months and could take lessons and then I wouldn’t pass out from panic when we all go swimming!! Chris, being the wonderful husband he is, takes it upon himself to bring me oh so quickly back to reality. “Babe, you need to take swimming lessons.”

That’s right, I don’t know how to swim. I can fake it well enough and do a mean doggie paddle, but if you were to throw me out into the ocean (or the middle of the lake or a pool) and expect me to survive, yea, that wouldn’t happen. It’s just one of those things I never learned how to do. I didn’t really take lessons as a kid in Hawaii, and when we moved here our elementary school had mandatory swim lessons for the first and last two weeks of the school year. The two years I was there I was in “remedial swimming.” And by the end of the year, I was one of the only students left in that group. During the summer, I used to pay off life guards for one of the bracelets to swim in the deep end because I didn’t want to be the only one in my group not being able to go down the slide. Yes, my lack of proper swimming knowledge does not stop me from taking the risk of swimming….I just prefer to have a noodle while I do it to ensure I won’t completely drown. I’m Darwinism in effect. Survival of the fittest, and yes, I am passing my genes forward.

So Chris wants me to take swimming lessons, and he actually offers to teach me himself. Aw, how sweet. Chris really is a wonderful teacher. He teaches me how to fix small things around the house so I can do it myself, and if my laptop is acting a little funky, I can almost always figure out what’s wrong because of him showing me how to before hand. But, that’s how to fix stuff. Doing stuff however is a different story. He’s still a great teacher, very patient and calm, but I’m not a great learner if he is my teacher. I want desperately to do good and not make his job challenging, so I get so distracted by trying to do good, I get nervous, and end up doing semi-poorly…

While he is offering his services as swim instructor, he says “I mean, I taught you how to drive a stick shift!” Yes, true, somewhat. I know how to drive one fairly well. At least, if I absolutely had to, I could, I’m confident of that. But to do on an every day basis, I’m not that confident. And the reason for this was because a) he was my teacher, b) we were only dating at the time he was attempting to teach me so I didn’t want to upset him, and c) he was teaching me in his pride and joy, his yellow jeep.


I’m sure he could smell the fear on me when he suggested we do this. He loved me and trusted me. Plus, he thought I looked hot driving it. But I mean, who wouldn’t? Anyway, the first couple of lessons went well enough, all I was doing was driving it, stopping it and trying to go again without stalling out. The lessons took a bad turn when he expected me to be able to reverse, without fully explaining what to do. It was one of those things he apparently thought I could read his mind about. Needless to say, as awesome as I am, I couldn’t, and I ended up reversing us straight into a ditch. I freaked out, like seriously freaked out. I was crying, terrified I had destroyed his baby, and terrified he wouldn’t ever trust me to drive it again and completely give up on me. But him? He was laughing at me. He was laughing at my panic. He was laughing at my tears! He was laughing because there was absolutely nothing wrong with the jeep, and once he got us out he expected me to be gung-ho about continuing that days lesson. No, no I was not gung-ho. In fact, I was not gung-ho for several days afterwords, if ever. The fear that I had before ever starting this had only intensified by 10000000000 and every time he mentioned I had to learn I made up another excuse not to. It only worked sometimes.

Today, the yellow jeep is no longer with our family. He has since replaced it with a more family friendly vehicle since Caitlin’s car seat didn’t fit safely or comfortably in there. One day I’ll get him his yellow jeep back, but I still have no intentions on ever driving it again…or learning how to properly swim.


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