Last week, Littlest Wombat had vowed and declared never to return to swimming lessons, unless certain conditions were met. One of these I couldn’t control; the other I could. At least he hadn’t asked me to remove the chlorine from the pool. After our conversation last week, I’d been worried this would also be on the wish list.
Well, we’ve had the return lesson. And what a different, positive experience this was for both of us. For me, it completely reinforced the value of persevering in the face of the seemingly impossible. It also provided encouragement that sometimes you do need to be prepared to put aside what you believe is a good parenting model in order to achieve an important, longer term goal. In some cases, I think that the end does justify the means (as long as those means are not illegal, immoral or fattening!)
To recap briefly, Littlest Wombat had a meltdown ten minutes into his lesson last week. He claimed that life was already too hard for him and that swimming lessons just made it harder. He was never coming back.
Then we passed the flippers in the discount box as we were leaving the pool. Flippers seemed like rather an attractive proposition to this melted-down marsupial, and he put it to me that I should get him some. I was perfectly happy to do that – after he went to swimming the following week. But this lawyer-to-be made it a condition precedent – he wasn’t going back unless I bought him flippers first!
I wrestled briefly with the feeling that I would create a spoilt child by “giving in” to his demands, then decided that learning to swim was the main game here. Yep, the finances would happily cover flippers if that’s what it took. “Okay,” I told him. But I needed to get them another day, as his size wasn’t available at the pool.
Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready for my quick acquiescence, for another condition appeared. He had to be allowed to wear them for the whole lesson. This, I couldn’t guarantee and told him so. Well, he was adamant that if he couldn’t wear them for the duration, he wasn’t going to swim. End of story. Okay. Well, all we can do is ask, I told him.
Three days later, we were at the pool for his older sister’s lesson. Littlest Wombat is still too young to stay home alone, and while I’d love to leave Train Wombat in charge, I’m not quite ready to do so. Besides, I figure that it’s good for Littlest Wombat to have the extra time in the water, when he can do his own thing – which he really enjoys.
As the end of Dancing Wombat’s lesson approached, I glanced towards the opposite end of the pool, and saw a familiar head. Was that Littlest Wombat’s teacher, Jake? Hmm, yes, I rather thought it was. I beckoned to Littlest Wombat, who floated over to the edge of the bath-warm hydrotherapy pool, where he had been playing.
“Hey, do you think that’s Jake over there?” I asked.
He peered over, and nodded solemnly.
“Why don’t we go and ask him about the flippers?” I suggested.
My Wombat quickly agreed, and clambered out of the pool. We walked over together. Sure enough, it was Jake, just finishing his lesson. His students gone, we went over to him.
“Littlest Wombat has a question for you,” I told Jake.
“Could I use flippers in my lesson next week?” Littlest Wombat asked.
Jake gave him a wink and a thumbs up. “That’d be awesome, dude! Man, you’d go so fast with flippers! They’ll be great! Look forward too seeing you next week!”
Littlest Wombat was quietly thrilled by this response, and smiled. “Yep!”
I silently mouthed “Thank you” to Jake, and received a cheery wink and thumbs up in reply. What a relief. This affable young man had just lifted a great weight from my shoulders.
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it sweetheart?”
Littlest Wombat nodded and danced back to the hydrotherapy pool for a few more minutes in the warmth. Now all I needed to do was buy the flippers. The next bit was up to Littlest Wombat.
His lesson rolled around quickly. As is our custom, he changed in the car between school and the pool, and was ready to hop out as soon as I had parked. “Don’t forget your flippers,” I reminded him. He likes to go on ahead of me and scan himself through the gates.
“I’ll put my card under my towel, next to the hydrotherapy pool,” he told me, as he trotted away.
I was only a couple of minutes behind my Wombat, but he was already gliding through the water like a little merman by the time I reached the hydrotherapy pool. After school, this pool is usually brimming with children. Today, however, it was unusually empty – a great boon to the flipper wearer, and those in his vicinity!
He had a lovely time testing out his new flippers, proudly showing me how much faster they made him go. “Watch, Mummy!” He torpedoed across the bottom of the pool , from one side to the other. “I hardly had to kick at all!”
“That’s great, sweetheart! How do they feel?”
“They feel good.” He glided off again, then returned with a question.
“What level am I in, Mummy?”
Ooooh – I don’t actually know! How bad is that?! “I’m not sure,” I had to confess. “Let’s ask the swimming teacher later.” He nodded, and disappeared under the water again.
Soon it was time for his lesson. He walked awkwardly to the main pool in his flippers, backwards – “That’s what divers do, Mummy” – while I held his arm to keep him steady. I had decided to arrive a couple of minutes late, so that all the class would be in the water and there’d be no waiting. The ploy worked, and before I’d even realised it, Littlest Wombat was in the water and halfway down his lane. I turned back to sit down and watch – with the proverbial bated breath!
Five minutes passed, then ten. This was when it all fell apart last week… But no, he seemed to be engaged, attentive, even doing what he was asked. There was minimal swimming underwater while Jake was giving instructions, didn’t seem to be any disruptive behaviour, no attempts to escape… In fact, from what I was observing, it seemed to be the best lesson ever for Littlest Wombat!
At one point, I noticed the flippers at the side of the pool. Oh no – what had happened? I had a momentary panic. Where was my Wombat? Was everything okay? Then I spotted him. Phew. Yes, everything was completely okay – they were just doing some diving. High fives all round at the end and no talk about not coming back next week. What a relief.
We saw Gemma, the swimming supervisor, as we headed back to the hydrotherapy pool for a warm-up swim.
“How was that?” she asked.
“Much better than last week,” I told her emphatically. “Although we were coming off rather a low base!”
“Yes, I heard that,” she grinned, then addressed Littlest Wombat. “What did you think?”
“Yeah, okay. A bit better,” he said.
“You were doing really well, dude,” Gemma said enthusiastically. “Give me five!” They high-fived. .“If you keep this up, and behave really well, you can move into the next level!”
“Wow, that’d be good, wouldn’t it?” I commented to my Wombat. “In fact, that reminds me of a question, Gemma. What level is he in now?”
“Dude, you’re in Salmon now. But if you keep up the good work, you’ll move into Tuna! And you know what?” She leant forward conspiratorially and lowered her voice. “We might even be able to arrange for Jake to move into Tuna with you!”
Brilliant! This is a lady who really “gets” it. Littlest Wombat pricked up his ears.
“Well, I have a friend called JT who does lessons here. Would that mean that I could be in his class?” he asked.
I realised that he was about to launch into a long conversation about JT and that Gemma had no idea who he was talking about! More significantly, though, this showed that Littlest Wombat was looking ahead to moving into the next level – a complete change from where his thinking and emotions were at last week.
“I’m not sure what class JT is in, but we’d see what we could do,” said Gemma. “Keep up the good work!”
Wow. Talk about chalk and cheese. I could hardly have had two more different experiences.
Last week Littlest Wombat was:
- melting down
- feeling like life was out of his control
- overwhelmingly negative
- needing to retreat into his alien identity to explain why he was finding things hard
- setting conditions to regain some control in a challenging situation.
This week, Littlest Wombat was:
- not melting down!
- feeling more in control
- positive
- not requiring “masking” strategies to cope; and
- forward planning.
What did it take on my part?
- listening
- acknowledging his feelings
- explaining why swimming lessons were important and that all our Wombats did them
- Accepting his conditions in return for accepting mine: the “flippers for lessons” exchange
- putting aside my belief that he should “just do it” because his parents wanted and expected him to;
- putting aside my feelings that he shouldn’t set conditions and that I was spoiling him and “giving in” by buying flippers;
- staying focussed on the endgame – becoming a safe swimmer.
It’s hard work. But for those of you facing similar issues, hang in there. Be creative. Be flexible. And believe in yourself and the power of your kids to get through.
Happy wombatting!
