Gone swimming

Did I ever mention that I hate swimming pools?
As if it wasn't bad enough when I was a school girl. It could have something to do with being the last in my class to learn how to swim aged 9. Or being blind as a mole and rather water shy. I still prefer not to swim where I can't stand, and a snorcheling trip in Cuba taught me that I acrophobia can even kick in when floating with a rescue ring in reasonably shallow coral waters.
More than not being the best swimmer, I could never figure how to jump into the water - jumping off boards? You must be joking, I was so flipping scared. Head first? Why??? Still the teachers made me do it in front of everyone else, apparently to mark me, instead they made sure all my class mates saw how utterly rubbish I was. PE always had a feel of public humiliation for me, and swimming took the biscuit in that respect.

Then there's the smell of chlorine which makes me rather queazy; the dampness of the body that can't be gotten rid off and makes it impossible to stick clothes back on. Water getting in my nose. Being splashed. Being ducked. Tiny changing rooms. The floor which is a mixture of water and muck.

No, swimming pools never had much attraction for me and I only tolerate them when I have a full line to myself, and as means to an end for some fitness or to feel light again in the later stages of pregnancy (which both times led to even worse pelvic pain after the swim, so the relieve was very shortlived).

But Cubling had been pleading with me to go swimming again. I'd delayed a family swimming trip for quite a while because of Snowflake's dodgy immune system. But at 6 months and with all vaccinations done and dusted, even though delayed through illnesses, there were no more excuses I could find.We all want active kids, it's good to take them swimming, right?

So we arrived. Snowflake had just fallen asleep. Cubling was so excited she got changed herself without any delay. Wow. Now, who's going to change me? Ok, managed that. Snowflake next. Wake baby, baby not happy. Change baby. Baby not happy. Wait for Mr Cartside to deal with the mountain of clothes and the lockers while negotiating that no, Cubling can't go in the water yet because it's 1:1 and I have two kids just now. I feel a dribble of wetness on my legs. No I'm not in the shower yet and nobody splashed me. It can only be ... pee. Thank you Snowflake, that was lovely. I thought that cloth swim nappy would work, em, better.

Toilet, shower, playing musical chair with Snowflake. Finally, pool. Kids loving it. Mental note: Snowflake once again demonstrates how different her personality is from Cubling (the latter HATED the pool as a baby, much to my delight).

20 minutes later, Snowflake cries, does her Flamenco hand movement which means "had enough". I take her out while Cubling stays in with Mr Cartside. Dry her, dress her. Half the stuff in other locker. Try finding locker. Last number on armband-key is illegible. Try about 5 lockers. Finally find the right one though key doesn't turn. Mentally curse all keys and lockers and swimming pools. Locker opens, hurray. Take out all I need to dress Snowflake. Dress her, put her in car seat, she wails. Realise she not just tired, but quite possibly due a feed. Which translates to impossibility to happy baby in car seat. Notice that I'm still soaking wet, unshowered (did I mention I hate the smell of chlorinated water? No way I'm getting out of here unshowered even if it means leaving baby to cry). Being soaking wet is not conducive to picking up dressed baby to settle her, or to feed her in the changing room. Make mental note that it may be more advantageous to dress mummy first next time.

Go out to pool and admit defeat. Hand Snowflake to Mr Cartside, who now swings car seat and lets Cubling play in the baby pool by herself. And is promptly told that this is not admissible. Fortunately, Cubling is happy to play fishing from the rim of the pool. Have shower, get dressed. Can't get clothes on because still damp. For all my attempts to get dressed as quickly as possible, it takes absolute ages. Try to stay calm because at least Snowflake isn't crying so loud that I could hear it, surely that's a good sign.

Grab car seat with baby (who isn't actually screaming), massive bag with clothes, baby swim seat, Spencer bear (did I mention he had to come too?!) 3 jackets and try not to collapse or throw up (one jacket is in my mouth and it doesn't like the sensation. That's the mouth, not the jacket, though I wouldn't blame the jacket if it didn't like my mouth). Decide that there is no point in being so vain as to blow dry hair or even brush it, it's ok to be scrummy mummy.

Collapse on chair in cafe. Relax, feed Snowflake who promptly falls asleep. Realise I'm ravenously hungry and wonder why I always get so unbelievably hungry after just a few minutes in the pool. Pat on the back that all my shouting was internal and both kids are still smiling.

Seriously wonder why the kids love going to the pool.

Weekend Roundup in Words and Pictures

One very busy weekend and not actually that many pictures.

Saturday saw us revisit the swimming pool, which we hadn't done in ages. It was a frosty and misty morning, just the right type of day for a bit of splashing in hot pool waters. Sometimes I'm awestruck at how quickly my little girl is growing up. Between our last and Saturday's visit to the swimming pool, she was a different person. In relation to swimming pools that is. No longer would she charge off running as soon as I tried to undress, put clothes in locker, turn the locker key, got to the shower, etc. Her confidence in the water had increased significantly. No longer was she worried about the big pool, clinging onto me for dear life. Suddenly, she was playful pushing herself up on my hands, made swimming movements, actually believed she was in fact swimming. "I schwimmen! I Fisch!" she exclaimed full of pride and joy. She even dared go on the little shoot which so far she'd been really not sure about. For the first time, I was able to relax and enjoy the time in the pool. Good bye constant fear of her sliding, running off quicker than I can follow, close to the water's edge, no more near accidents or charging after an unpredictable toddler. Even her timing was perfect, when she had enough it was time to leave anyway, and the prospect of lunch in the cafe was just the ticket for her.

In the afternoon we went to the grand switching on of Alloa lights. It was a bit of an understatement, what with having the people gather in a car park with a cheap stage and one Christmas tree and 2 tiny lights attached to lampposts being lit. It looked dire. Santa was about but didn't speak to Cubling or her cousin, and the snow queen and elves were dancing in silly ways. Luckily, there was a small fun fair and we managed to squeeze through the crowds and get in a ride on the two cousin's favourite - the double decker bus. As we left, I noticed that the drop ride didn't drop. It didn't move for a couple of minutes. My beloved thought that was part of the ride, but I wasn't sure. We decided to heat up the car (it was freezing cold) and watch and see. And indeed, there were people stuck about 10 m high up in the air, confirming why I wouldn't even think of going on one of these rides. Three fire engines came to the scene, much to the delight of the two toddlers watching from the backseats of our car. Did I take a photo? No, I was too snug in the warm car while I watched those poor frozen kids waiting forever and a day to get rescued. The BBC covered it though, so you can admire the incident here.

The following day we made Cubling a very happy camper by going to the Big Adventure in Linwood - a 5 storey soft play area, apparently the biggest in Europe. She was bouncing with excitement as soon as we walked in, so keen to explore it all. Amazingly, she did go up as far as level four, while I tried to keep my eyes off her and not show my own fear of heights. The centre is definitely worth the £4 entry, and offers a wide range of foods that offer a real choice, and staff who clean up constantly and also look out for your child in case she gets lost or stuck in the softplay area.

The idea had been to catch a short nap on the way from Linwood back to the south side of Glasgow, but just has we passed the aiport, a plan was landing. We literally went from excitement to excitement, there was no thought of sleep to be had when there was a big aeroplane landing a mere 100 yards or so away from us. Even I couldn't resist the spectacle and the agitation of a toddler brought on by witnessing such wonders of engineering.

So, almost napless we indulged in the wonderful German tradition of Adventskraenzchen - a cosy get togethers of friends and family on a Sunday in advent, with coffee and cake, Lebkuchen and gingerbread, lots of candles, Christmas decorations, mulled wine and lots of chat. A German friend and former colleague had invited us and another half German family to her cosy basement sandstone tenement flat. While Cubling played with her pal N. (also a bilingual toddler, and same age), cars, a dog and her first early Christmas presents (oh, and she cooked of course, with coffee dregs, yummy. Shows that recycling acquires additonal challenges once toddlers are about), there was plenty of time for chatting and eating and drinking yummy stuff for the big people about. There was a vulcano built from mashed potatoe and mushroom sauce lava, Natalie Merchant playing in the background, and general chill with toddler business.

It got late, and just before bedtime, as it dawned (or dusked) on Cubling that such a fun filled weekend too had to end, she broke into tears. Big, unconsolable tears. Tears that it was all over, tears of exhaustion, tears of all the energy still left in her inspite of it, tears of having to call it a day and say goodnight.

Tears that I couldn't have empathised with more.