So the other night I accompanied my family to a summer league swim meet for the team that my brother helps coach. I went merely to be supportive and to get out of the house. It was a worthwhile experience for the night though. First of all, it brought back many fond memories.
Swim team is the essence of my childhood summers. Get up every morning and head to practice. Listen to the teenage coaches put together a random combination of strokes and distances to swim for an hour. Wait for Thursday nights to roll around. Pack a big cooler, the gameboy, coloring book, music. Cars lining the streets. Crowds of lawn and camping chairs marking territories. Sticky heat, even after the sun goes down. Mosquitoes. Fireflies. Having Mom or a friend help me cram my head into my latex swim cap with an obnoxiously ridiculous drawing of the team mascot on it. Being herded through the bullpen and staging by those bossy moms who are on a power trip because this is the only chance they have to control anyone besides their own kids who never listen anyways. Begging Mom for fifty cents to go buy some sour punch straws at the concession stand. Waiting around for the score at the end, hoping you won just so you can push the coaches in.
Oh, good times.
What really made this trip worthwhile is that it was a lesson in parenthood. I hope to be a parent someday in the not too terribly distant future, and it's good learning some of the dos and don'ts. From where I was sitting I had a perfect shot of all the different ridiculous parents and I hope to goodness that that is not the fate that I await.
First you've got the parents who completely ignore their kids unless they're in the water, and even sometimes then too. They signed their kids up merely so they could have a social network that they feel a part of. The women come to practice every morning ready to gossip about the latest soap operas and sitcoms. The men talk sports. "Oh, what sweetie? Yeah go get a towel...we'll leave when Mom's done talking." Two hours later the kids are lost down at the creek trying to catch lizards and everyone is freaking out trying to find them, though Mom is not nearly as worried as the rest of them, as long as she gets home by 12:30 for Days of Our Lives. Ridiculous.
Next you've got the parents who were swimmers themselves or wish they had been. Yes, those annoying ones always portrayed on TV who are trying to live vicariously through their kids. The kids don't care half as much as their parents, but they have to pretend like they do to avoid being grounded forever. These parents sat their kids down and made sure they had a full spaghetti dinner before they came and their cooler is stocked full of water, grapes, bananas, granola, etc. They try to get their kids mentally prepared for the race. They stand at the corner of the pool with a stopwatch in hand, waiting for the beep as their child stands on the block, and then they chase their kid all the way down and back whistling their breathing pattern and then insist that their stopwatch has the correct time. They hover around the results board and if they're good they offer praise and share the glory; if they're bad they threaten more practice or a loss of privileges. This isn't the Olympics.
Then there are those parents who say they're doing swim team just for fun but make a much bigger deal out of it than necessary. They pack their cooler with candy and chips and soda and give their kids twenty bucks to spend at the concession stand on pizza, nachos, hot dogs, and the like. The parents sit and chat with the other parents, but they pay attention to their kids too. There is a good balance there at least. But then when their kid gets up on that block the whole world stops and is supposed to be paying attention to her. Mom is silently holding her breath waiting for the start while Dad has his camera up to his face, ready to get that perfectly arched bellyflop in the frame. Then as soon as they're all in the water it's nonstop screaming from both parties. "GO SWIM FASTER GO GO THEY'RE CATCHING UP STROKE STROKE BREATHE OH MY GOSH HURRY GO GO GO GO!!!" Let me tell you a secret Mom and Dad: your swimmer can't hear you. She's underwater. Never once in my life while I was swimming did I ever hear my name being cheered and I can assure you that your child can't hear you either. After cheering themselves hoarse they run to the block and pull their kid out, wrapping them immediately in a big, fluffly towel. When the score is announced they jump up and down and scream excitedly if their team is winning and ignore it as if it's only a weather advisory system test if they're losing. If their child gets disqualified or misses a swim they go and beg the computer people to print out a ribbon label for him anyways because Junior will cry if all his brothers and sisters get ribbons and he doesn't. The next day when the kids get their ribbons they wave all of the blue ones in their friends faces, taking advantage of all bragging rights they have as the parent of the fastest swimmer. If there aren't any blue ones they tell the kids, "Well, since you all got rainbow ribbons [speedbreakers] this week, we'll go out for ice cream!" The parents obviously care so much more than the kids do, but hey, free ice cream, right? What a joke.
I am thankful that my parents do not, nor did they ever, fit into any of these categories. Mine are the kind that are quietly supportive, and that's what I like best. They were the ones who sat at the computer and entered times or stroke judged. When Jeff's or my heat was up to swim they stood and watched, offering one cheer of encouragement while on the block and then silently rooting for us while we were in the water. The only other words needed from them after a swim was "Good job, you did your best." No need for any bribes or threats. Summer swim team was purely for fun and my parents kept it in check. (My brother's year-round club swimming is a bit of a different story, but still nothing too crazy.) I hope to follow in their footsteps as a parent and not take life to such ridiculous extremes.
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