He can swim, ya'll

Andy can swim. Seriously. It's totally awesome, too. Turns out eight months of weekly swim lessons can actually lead to something.

We had a hard time getting into swimming. Andy didn't want his head under water at all, even in the bath, so swimming lessons were stress inducing there at the beginning. But we worked through it and the folks at the swim school are pretty amazing. I signed him up for swim team this summer and I've been a little nervous about it because they said kids needed to be able to swim 25 feet and I knew that 15 feet which he can swim didn't exactly add up to 25.

But then this Saturday, my sister and her kids and another friend came over and he somehow put all the pieces together and started swimming. It was amazing. The conditions have to be right, of course, he needs his goggles and he can't really take a breath during his stroke or anything, but he can confidently go from one side of the pool to the other and he's loving it. I'll admit I was nervous about getting a pool, but considering how much we used it this weekend and how hot it is in Dallas already, I think it was a good call.

Meg, however, still not swimming, but she thinks she can. So I've been making her wear a swim vest type thing so she floats. She'll probably be swimming on her own by the end of the summer and another session of swim school, but for now I've got to make her keep her head above water.

Fashionist

My poor kids have inherited my fashion sense. Look at young Margaret wearing her faux Ugg boots with her swim suit. I offered her Crocs but she chose these instead. Meanwhile, I think I need to feed Andy more. He eats, I swear, but those ribs showing are a little disturbing.

Terrible. F.

Today was one of those not so great moments in parenting for me (and it's all about me). Andy had his swimming class. The first three classes went great, then I went out of town and he missed a class. And then we had three feet of snow and classes were cancelled. We went for his first class in three weeks and Andy cried for the entire 45 minutes, refusing to get in and just being sad and scared no matter what I tried to do -- calm him, listen to him, guide, bribe, cajole -- you name it. It was rather horrific. For me most. I had Meg with me, which I haven't had to do before, but Bjorn was reffing basketball. Trying to keep her from diving into the class with the other kids while thinking how much easier it would be to just throw him in and do sit on the stands was a challenge. A challenge I did not meet. He cried all the way home, mostly because since he didn't get into the water, he wouldn't be rewarded with lollipops and Wii. Then he got home and had the nerve to tell Jennifer class was fun. Seriously?

I have decided to pull him out of the class though. He's missed too many classes and I want to sign him up at the beginning again and start over. We had enough of a fight that I need to let some time pass and start over. Problem is I can't get into any of the classes that start in three weeks. Gah. Let's hope I get him swimming before middle school.

Meg has turned into a two year old. She spends a lot of time saying, "No!" to just about everything and then willfully throws things on the floor and laughs about it. I am doing my best to just ignore and wait for her to get over it, but I must say I patience runs a little thin when she takes the cats' water and intentionally spills it all over the floor. She's also figured out how to get around my baby gates. I definitely need to rethink my strategies. Fortunately, it will soon be warm(ish) again and we can get to spending more time outside where she can drop and throw things to her heart's delight.

In fun news, we have booked our trip to Sydney, Hobart and Melbourne for this summer. I'm psyched although after weekends like this, I wonder what the hell we're thinking attemping to spend 23 hours on a plane with little kids -- each way. I have no idea how they're going to handle the jet lag and sleep issues, probably better than the adults.