We missed swimming last Saturday because Punky was battling a cold for days. I didn't want to risk turning a runny nose, slight cough, and low fever into full blown pneumonia if she got a chill. Every time her nose would run she'd tell me, "Dripping, Mama. Nose. Get it." She finally seemed better by Tuesday.
I woke up Wednesday morning and it was my turn for the drippy nose. By the afternoon it was out of control. On Thursday I had so much pressure on the right side of my face. I threw in the towel and came home at lunch time. The couch was calling my name. I'm still not completely over it but plan on taking her swimming in the morning. I don't want her to miss two weeks in a row.
Speaking of swimming, the last time we went was the weekend my mom was up visiting. She came along to watch Punky do her thing in the water. She proudly showed Grammy all her cool moves in the pool. Kicking. Splashing. Her favorite part of class is jumping in from the wall. Of course I have her hands the entire time and she never goes under the water. At least she didn't until that class. The instructors told us to try letting them go under so they get used to it...
Talk about an internal struggle. I do everything in my power to keep her safe; that's the number one priority of motherhood. There is just something inherently wrong with purposely shoving your healthy, beautiful baby under water. I mustered up the courage, took a deep breath, dunked her, and hoped for the best. And she was fine. A tad bit startled, but fine. A few turns later I asked her if she wanted to put her head under the water again. She said yes so I dunked her again. Less startled the second time around...and still fine.
I know it's a reflex to hold your breath under water, but it still creeps me out. I guess I need to get over it because she absolutely loves the water and I think swimming will remain a regular part of our lives for a long time to come. Hopefully with time and practice I'll feel better about dunking her. I doubt it, but I can always hope.
After that swimming class we headed to the mall in search of a Halloween costume for Punky. One store goes all out with the decorations, scary figures, and eerie music. I don't think we were in there one full minute before Punky freaked out and started crying. My mom had to take her back into the mall to calm her down while I shopped. I just found the whole episode rather odd.
I mean, she's not even two. She doesn't know what scary is yet in relation to ghosts, witches, monsters, and the like. She has no recollection of last Halloween. She's never seen a horror movie. She has no concept of the boogie man in the closet. She is not afraid of the dark. She barely startles with loud noises. Yet somehow she was terrified in that store. I guess she'll be a big chicken when it comes to Halloween. Just like her mama.
I hate Halloween. Always have, always will. I hate scary movies and no amount of money can make me watch one. I have nightmares about scenes like that. I hate the dark. Every little bump in the night makes me jump. Going trick-or-treating required conversing with strangers and my introverted, extremely shy self was never comfortable with that. I hated trying to figure out what kind of costume I could wear. I dreaded it every year. I even hate candy corn and pumpkin-flavored anything. I don't decorate the house for Halloween. Not even a jack-o-lantern. The only good part of Haloween for me is chocolate...and that only got me cavities and root canals. Yeah, Halloween sucks.
As a mom, I know I need to keep my feelings to myself and not end up ruining Halloween for Punky. She needs to decide for herself whether to love it or hate it. My luck, she'll grow to love it. At any rate, four stores later we finally got her a costume. Any guesses?
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