Season Finale

The children were running around, hectically moving trying to find where they were supposed to be. Parents had a blank look on their face. Some knew what to do but most were just confused, waiting in lines they didn't understand moving in a direction, if at all, that seemed less linear and more anarchic.

Voices that were meant to tell people where to go were coming from places no one could see, in a muffled tone that would embarrass a New York Subway conductor whose muffled announcement is more a series of static and non-static than actual language.

This is not a scene from Black Friday shopping at Target, nor is it opening day at the Yard, or the much anticipated opening of "Fantastic Four" (which I am pretty excited about). This is the annual Trophy Tournament Swim Meet. A gathering of hundreds of swimmers and their parents that capstones the summer season.

The excitement is overwhelming. Truly overwhelming. Maybe it's the smell of chlorine, the kids walking around without shoes on or the people that have lawn chairs set up in the gym that look like they're about to engage in a family cookout. Or maybe it's just the mayhem and fear that among all this disorder you arrived too late and somehow missed your child's event. But you don't even want to think about that. You just hope that the staging area is moving slowly enough to jam your children into their event/heat/lane seat.

Then you leave them in their waiting area, which must have a “No Parents” sign posted somewhere because you're the only one holding your child's hand, more to pacify you than him, then you leave to find a spot to watch.

Climbing the wet steps to the galley above the pool, thoughts of accidents and tripping fill your mind. Why aren’t theses steps dry? Surely this is a violation of many safety codes? And I'm the more reckless parent. Why is my wife so calm?

Upon entering the galley the first thing that hits you is the heat, which explains the Boeing 747 Jet size fan that is pointing to the audience. This place is hot, and why wouldn't it be? The last thing they want to do is cool a room whose money is well spent warming the water. Apparently this room was not set up to host such a big tournament on a day that reaches 95 degrees outside.

There's a problem. No one is in the pool swimming. If nothing else this is one of the most efficient competitions in existence. They have the uncanny ability to complete events that a community pool may takes hours, even days, to do. So what's the hold up?

Then the announcer starts reading off license plate numbers that are blocking parking lots, and they are holding us hostage until the cars are moved. Blackmail at its finest, truly a bold and impressive move, but it's hot. Really hot.

 Finally the race is back on track. The swimmers move on through their events. Our kids swim. Actual viewing time, exactly one minute. Scores are quickly posted. Families exit, most without any trophies, but an abundance of personal victories. And summer continues, as does the countdown to next year's season.

It's Me Not You

I'm a dufus. But I'm functional, so sometimes I forget that simple fact. The good news I am also a parent so I get constant reminders of my inner workings.

This summer, like the past couple of summers, I have the pleasure of spending the days with my sons. It is truly a gift. Around May I start thinking about it.

About seven years ago my wife and I decided I would stay home with the boys rather than work over the summer. We realized that what I make versus what it cost for them to be in day care was about equal, but the cost was only one factor. We also talked about what the boys would gain from me being with them, and decided I would stay home.

That first year, as the time got closer, my wife asked me several times if I was alright with the decision. I assured her I was, but I wasn't sure. She plans activities, field trips as we call them. In her mind the summer would be a series of this trips which would be a huge scheduling burden on someone.

My approach is different; I just wing it, and while this may seem fun for me, it often lacks focus and structure. But that didn't scare me; ignorance is bliss. The result was less than stellar. The boys enjoyed the pool, and for a while that was fine, but eventually the lack of structure became an issue. I supplemented it by going to the library and embracing my wife's “field trip” strategy.

The following summer was much better, and the boys were able to participate in swim lessons at our community pool, accompanied by the swim team. This gave us the structure we needed, once the boys embraced the lessons, which they found overwhelming at first.

So it should have come as no surprise to me that one of boys was very reluctant to join the swim team this year, which is a social mass of youth kicking and splashing water, lining up and exercising their right to make as much noise as they can. The team is very successful so there is a strong argument to be made for enjoyment leading to success.

The issue, however, is that it is overwhelming, and I saw the look on my one son's face as he watched the exuberance with hesitation. It was my opportunity as a sensitive parent to recognize the signs on his face and change course. Or fight him on it.

He simply did not want to participate. As the days went by I took it as an official challenge to my authority. I became angry. When my wife suggested private lessons I explained that swim team was the lesson! It was perhaps one of my worst parenting moments.

The only thing that made it worse was the similar reaction later that week he gave to receiving laughing gas for cavity fillings in his teeth. He refused the dentist’s remedy, and I again saw this as a personal affront, even thought he dentist assured me that some children don't even make it to the chair, which my son did. It was the mask that he found so disagreeable.

I kept wondering where this stubbornness, and pseudo reckless behavior, was coming from. And more importantly, who was he to challenge me?

These of course were gross overreactions, and a bit of misplaced intent. My son isn't calculated or conniving. He is scared, and I just couldn't get my head around that. Fear is an inhibitor, but as an adult it takes on a different connotation. It becomes an amalgamation of past experiences and memories that contribute to impulses we don't always understand. For my son it was much more basic. He was just scared, and it's not up to me to always help him struggle through it, a therapist can do that when he is older and strores up some more hostility towards me. Sometimes I just need a “Plan B”, as my wife continues to remind me.

 Plan B for swimming is private lessons, which have worked out magically and gives me warmth when I see a smile on his face every time he gets in the water. Plan B for the dentist is just to wait. There really isn't much more to it than that. Sadly I lost sight of these basic practices, because, I'm a dufus.