pool party

Kiddo and I went to a swim party today.  I didn't really want to go, but he did.  He rarely gets invited to birthday parties or playdates, so I often feel like we should make the most of the few invitations we do get.  And I want to encourage him socially, so if he wants to go, I try hard to oblige.  So off to the swim party we went.

It didn't go particularly well.

1.  He is not a strong swimmer, in water or in social situations.
2.  He started to flounder in water that was a little too deep, and the woman who owned the pool jumped in after him, fully clothed.  With her cell phone in her pocket.
2.  He also floundered a little socially - he had a hard time connecting with the other kids, who were busy swimming (well) or having water fights. 
3.  When the other kids noticed him, it was primarily as a target.  But Kiddo doesn't particularly appreciate getting squirted.  Or splashed.
4.  Unfortunately, I think both of those are pretty much a given when you are at a pool party with a bunch of 7-year-olds.

After about half an hour, he was done.  He was uncomfortable and anxious and unhappy. 

"I'm not having any fun, Mommy.  Can we go home?"

(2 years old)

There is a fine line between "enough is enough" and encouraging your child to grow in a situation where he is not particularly comfortable.  But he had stuck it out for a while, and I was ready to go home, too.  I was tired of trying to help him navigate everything, to share, to communicate with the other kids, to stay in the shallow end.  Distracted as I was, I hadn't had a chance to connect with the other moms, either.

I drove home feeling defeated.  Another social situation gone awry.  Nothing really horrible happened, but it wasn't a stellar success, either.  I don't think the other kids even noticed when he left.  

When we got home, we wandered outside, and it seemed like we both immediately relaxed, and the anxiety of the afternoon disappeared.  And as I ambled around the garden, I couldn't help but wish that we could just spend the summer at home, just the three of us, puttering in the garden in our own little world.  

It would be so much easier to play hermit, to stay in this safe place where my child is understood.  Where he can talk about ducks all he wants (even if it drives Mommy and Daddy crazy sometimes).  Where it doesn't matter if he can't ride a bike or throw a ball well.  Where someone will listen to the nonsense songs he makes up, and where it's normal to hear 4- and 5-syllable words coming out of a 7-year-old. 

Easier?  Yes.  

Best?  Probably not.

Sigh.

So tonight, I will take a deep breath.  I will pray for wisdom and patience.  I will celebrate how far he has come.  I will remind myself of the many ways I have seen him grow over the past year.  It makes me want to cry, I am so proud of him.  

I will take him to pool parties and birthday celebrations.  I will help him learn how to swim.  I will walk him through social interactions at the playground at Chick-fil-A and at the park.  I will pick him up and hold him close and reassure him when things don't go as planned.  I will be there for him.  And I will give him a safe and secure place to come home to, where he can be himself, where he knows he is loved just as he is.  

There will be pool parties to navigate, but there will also be a garden to putter in.