Sunday, Bloody Mary Sunday

Any other Sunday before today, if you asked me what we did, it would always start the same. "We went to Lauren's swim lesson." For the past year, we were pretty much unavailable until noon or so because of that lesson. Don't get me wrong, it was super important that Lauren learn how to swim. She was water safe well over a year ago, I'd say. For the past year, we've been going once a week, for 20 minutes, so she could learn all the different strokes. She's got freestyle and backstroke down, no problem. Gets all the way across the 25-yard pool with less than perfect form, but she's pretty fast. Breaststroke has been more of a challenge and butterfly hasn't really entered her world yet, other than watching me swim lap after lap of it during summers in our pool.

Every Sunday for a few months now, she's been complaining before her lesson that she doesn't want to go. Of course, once she gets there, she happily jumps in to play with her friends ahead of time, and then eagerly participates in the lesson itself. It's just getting her out of the house that's the hard part. Afterwards in the locker room, though, has been less than fun for me. I've said it before, but think about a 95-degree crowded and wet space, with screaming toddlers and beleaguered moms trying to wash little bodies without getting drenched themselves, then combing out tangles and using a blow dryer (the piercing shrieks of some of those kids would make you think blow dryers were a newfangled torture device). Let's just say that by the time we finish swim lessons on Sundays, I'm good and ready for a stiff Bloody Mary (or given my confirmed status as a drinking lightweight, a third of one).

I had an epiphany of sorts this past week. Maybe it was the start of Lauren's Daisy Troop meetings (yes, she is officially a Girl Scout - cookies on sale right now, come and get 'em!), on top of ballet, jazz, Little Gym, Glee class, and Yamaha Music. Not to mention my new schedule of driving her to school almost every day now (90 minutes from the time we leave the house until I walk into my office). Oh, and did I mention I signed up to be the reader in her class this week, so left work at lunchtime to read a favorite book to 16 kindergarteners (highlight of my week, by the way, hands down). Plus I leave work every Friday before 2 p.m. to pick her up and participate in Yamaha with her. Oy, my head hurts just reading all that back to myself.

I guess you could say I hit a wall. I kinda think all those scheduled activities were leading Lauren to that wall too.

I don't want to have to worry about getting out the door every Sunday at a particular time. I want to stay in pajamas on Sunday mornings with tousled hair, brew a strong cup of Italian Roast, and just be, without my brain counting down the minutes until we have to be somewhere. Yes, I still want her to be a really good swimmer. But you know what? If she wants to be good enough to be on a swim team, she can get more involved next summer, when she has way more time. She'll still only be 6, for goodness sakes. Nobody says she needs to be a champion before then.

Nor do I want her to be out of the house every day during the week until 5 p.m. or later, so that all she has time for when she gets home is dinner, shower, piano practice, and bed. Where's the fun in that? It would be so nice one or two nights during the week if, when I come home from work, her homework, piano practice, and shower were already done so she and I can play "night of the night" (her phrase for a fun activity of choice).

So some changes are being made around here. We are taking a break from swimming for a few months (or maybe more, I'm not going to count!). And after this week, jazz class is also going bye-bye. It's a good start for now. I'll see how we feel after a couple of months and if it's still too much, we may stop with the Yamaha music and hire a music/piano teacher to come to the house instead.

So, on this particular glorious, summer-like Sunday morning, we were so much more relaxed. Mid-morning, I got out of those jammies and gussied myself up a bit to do something I rarely get to do. I drove to Manhattan Beach for a lazy brunch with friends. Oh, and I got that Bloody Mary, too, with an enormous crisp slice of bacon in lieu of a celery stalk smack dab in it. Best drink stirrer evah.


[View from just outside the restaurant]

As for Lauren? She had a somewhat similar view about 30 miles farther south during a beach day she thoroughly enjoyed with her daddy.


[Newport Beach, just down the hill from Norm's condo]

So while it's only been one day, I think this change in our Sunday schedule is likely to be a keeper. Come to think of it, I may seriously consider supplementing my new Sunday no-rush jammie breakfast with a mini Bloody Mary, complemented by a crisp, thick bacon stir stick. Mmmmmm.