I love swimming in the early afternoon at the YMCA. I try and schedule my swim for the time when the preschoolers have gone home for their afternoon naps and the school kids haven't arrived yet. Some days I can be in the pool by myself with only the lifeguard in the room with me. It is incredibly peaceful and soothing. Yesterday, I swam slowly and stretched out my sore shoulders - I still haven't figured out why they are hurting so much, but no spinning this week. The only sound that I hear is my breathing (or panting) and the very quiet splashing of my kicking.
It is easy to let my mind wander when I am in the rhythm of doing laps.
I thought about the first time that Teddy and I came to swimming lessons. The pediatrician had given me some ideas of ways to bond with Teddy when he arrived home and I loved the idea of swimming together. (The entire changing room fiasco is a memory for another day!) I remember the faces of all the little babies when they felt the water on their legs and figured out how to splash. Also, how afraid they all were at the loud echoing noises that the voices made inside the huge pool room.

Last week we celebrated Teddy's gotcha day - 11 years that he has been home with us. 11 years is not so long and yet I cannot really remember what Lee and I did before Teddy. 11 years since those first swimming lessons.

Recently Teddy asked if I thought he might be part Mayan Indian (reminds me of when he used to tell people that he was born in a volcano). He is still trying to figure out how to answer the question "What nationality are you?". In school yesterday he didn't know how to respond - is he the nationality of his parents (Lee and I) or is he his birth nationality? I told him he can answer however he wants to, but actually that wasn't really giving him an answer. What nationality is he?