Poolside Battles

A few tears today. It’s our last day and I’m ok with that. River has reached his holiday limit and, if I’m honest, I think we all have. We could probably do with seeing some different faces.

After River point blank refusing to go anywhere near the pool all week, yesterday I put my foot down and said he was going in. When I signed him up for swimming lessons I wanted him to gain water awareness, not develop a lifelong hatred of it.

There were tears. So many tears.

Eyes locked on mine.

“No swimming mummy, please.”

I calmly got him dressed as the sobs turned to wails and then full screams. I’ve backed down all week. This time I decided to push through.

The final step required Kike to carry him and lower him into the pool where I was waiting.

The screams were loud. The stares came exactly as expected. One woman looked at me like I was the worst mother in the world. For a moment I was convinced someone was filming this obvious act of cruelty towards a small boy.

Eventually he sat on Kike’s knee. The volume dropped. Kike gently washed water over his toes and ankles. He found a coin and started dropping it to watch it sink.

Thirty minutes later he was laughing.

Splashing.

Throwing the coin further so he could chase it.

“Do you want to stop swimming?”

“NO!”

He stayed another thirty minutes until his lips were tinged blue and I made the call. (See lady watching, I am, in fact, a good parent.)

He loved being wrapped in warm towels. Lay in the sun eating cupcakes.

I knew he’d like it. He just needed help getting there.

A Beach That Wasn’t Meant To Be

I woke up this morning with the same energy. Last day. Make the most of it. Beach day.

Summer has been desperate for Kike to help her build a proper sandcastle fort. I said I’d watch River,we can’t really do it as a four, he’d dismantle it before it stood.

But from the moment he woke up, I knew.

The little humming noises were back. The ones that appear when he’s dysregulated. No words. Just sound.

He didn’t want to get out of bed. Climbed into mine. Demanded a hug. So we lay there while I squeezed him and eventually words returned.

There was spinning at breakfast. More humming. Then at the bottom of the path to the beach:

“No beach, it’s too crazy!”

It had been windy the first day we went. Maybe that’s what he meant.

I tried my usual tricks. No beach for me today.

We walked back. He ran straight into the baby room. Snack. Then back to our “holiday home.”

At lunch he removed his shirt because a drop of water touched it. Nearly removed his trousers too. Spinning doubled. “Too hot! Too hot!” Food apparently too hot as well.

Kike and Summer returned glowing from their morning. They’d built a very impressive sandcastle fort. I’m pleased they had that time. It’s just always double edged as I wish I’d been there too.

He won’t come out now. Swimming things placed nearby. He crawls under his blanket.

“I need to rest.”

And today, I believe him.

It’s travel day tomorrow. There will be lifts and buses and planes and things he won’t want to do. I don’t have it in me to fight today.

So I let it go.

I went for a swim. Sat in the sun. Watched Summer being thrown off an inflatable by the entertainment team and laughed at my impeccable timing at trying to find a quiet moment.

When I returned, my little boy was fast asleep.

Maybe he did need the rest.

The Orange Slide

There was one moment this week I wasn’t sure I wanted to write about.

River is very vocal at the moment. Scripts. Reading everything. Shouting in a range of American accents. It’s joyful. It’s loud.

One evening Summer was with her holiday friends at the orange slide. River wanted to join.

He came sliding down, delighted.

Saw the group.

Jumped up and down.

“Hi! My name is River!”

Just like we’ve taught him.

The problem is he hasn’t learnt the waiting part yet. Or the follow-up.

He repeated it. Jumping. Louder.

The older children looked at each other and started sniggering.

One child said, “Erm, we don’t speak Spanish.”

Laughter.

Including Summer.

I stepped in with my teacher voice.

“I hope you’re not actually making fun of a four-year-old who’s trying to make friends.”

Silence.

That evening was hard.

I spoke to Summer. She cried. She wanted to fit in. She had said he was her brother. She didn’t know what else to do.

Being a kid is hard. Being River’s big sister can be hard too.

I told her River needs us to stand up for him until he can do it for himself.

We hugged it out.

Later that week there was a little girl, Sasha, who chased him in the evenings. He squealed with delight every time.

On the third night she asked me, “Why won’t River play Tag right?”

I explained he struggles to understand the game properly. That he just likes being chased.

“You don’t have to play if you don’t want to,” I said.

She shrugged. Smiled.

“I don’t mind. I’ll chase him.”

And the happy squeals continued.

The Truth Of It

Maybe that’s the truth of it.

Some days you push. Some days you let it go.

Yesterday he screamed going into the pool and refused to get out.

Today he needed his blanket and a dark room.

I can’t force the beach.

I can’t force friendships.

I can’t force ease.

But I can keep showing him the world in ways he can manage.

And sometimes someone like Sasha shows up and reminds me the world can meet him halfway too.

home again

We’re home now.

The journey back, dare I say it, went quite well. River slept on the coach, was very loud on the plane but not screaming, just narrating everything at top volume which, surely, is progress. The bags appeared on time. We managed our two trains and a cab home with relative ease.

We’re currently on our fifth round of washing (no machines on this holiday) but we’re nearly there. Uniforms hung up. After-school clubs checked. Weekly shop ordered.

And that’s February half-term done.

I sat in the sun for a whole week. I swam. I ate and drank far too much. I watched questionable entertainment. I even finished a book.

It wasn’t effortless. It wasn’t calm all the time. But when is it?.

And the best part? I’m not scared of travelling anymore.

It takes planning. It takes adapting. It takes a bit of grit. But we can do it.

I think I’ve got my travel vibe back.
We even got a family photo.