We started private swimming lessons for the lils at home last week, and, on several occasions, I have wondered why I did not push harder to do this sooner. The lils get three individual lessons a week, they work on what they need to work on, it’s only a couple of dollars more than what we would pay for group lessons at the local pool, and they are making significant improvements in their strokes. The absolute best thing about it is that I get to sit in the sunshine with my coffee as they happen.

Unfortunately, it’s not all perfect. Our instructor, who the lils really like, has been late to every lesson so far. She started ten minutes late to the first lesson and has gradually been a few minutes later with each one. She has, for the most part, texted to let me know that she will be late, but today I didn’t get anything. This shouldn’t really bug me a tonne, but it does, mostly because she set the time for the lessons and a little because it’s rude.

So now I have to see if I can bring myself to continue with her after our trip to Canada. It’s what the lils have expressly requested and it’s what’s best for their swimming. Goose, who can be incredibly anxious and shy in these situations has really connected with her. It’s the right choice. So I just have to decide if I can set aside my need for punctuality, not hold it against her, and remember not to make plans for right after lessons. The alternative is that I need to just decide that I am ok with my head exploding if I don’t let go.

No comments yet

The lils have been surprisingly unmotivated to do anything out of the norm this summer. They are happy to play together, swim for hours, read books all day and night, but haven’t asked to venture out of the house, save to go to the grocery store or go on walks with me. This is pretty unusual, but has also made for a super low stress summer for all of us. It’s like they have really needed to recover from the school year, and spent the first few weeks doing exactly that.

This all changed when we went into one of my favourite kitchen stores on the weekend, and the lils noticed that they offer a week long chef camp, and asked to be signed up. For the most part, it was a simple decision for us. They both like to cook, and have been cooking with me since they were really little. The not so simple for me is Woo’s allergy.

We did our due diligence and were assured that the recipes would be modified so that nothing would contain peanut products, and I talked to the head chef on the first day to make sure they followed through, and that Woo would be allowed to read all ingredients and question anything that made him uncomfortable. She agreed and he hesitantly joined the class, ready to start.

I left, but not without a thousand nagging worries and worst case scenarios playing out in my head. There was nothing specific that made me feel anxious, that made a giant ball of dread grow in my stomach. It was the little things: the laissez-faire the way the information about his allergy was received; that I’m asked “how severe is ‘severe’?”; that this class might not be using peanuts, but the morning class most certainly did. It adds up.

Life is all about risk assessment, but it feels like it’s amplified when you’re an allergy mom. I know that he does everything to keep safe. He’s way more conscientious about his allergy than I ever was at his age, and would not proceed if he was the least bit unsure. Yet I spend the time he’s in class wandering close by, worrying, and counting the minutes until it’s time to pick them up. Three days in, and everything has been great. He’s loving the food and hasn’t felt uncomfortable at all. Yet I still worry, and keep telling myself “It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok.” It’s hard being an allergy mama. 

1 comment

It was abundantly clear to me, from the moment that we took possession of our house, that we were going to be the loudest family in the neighbourhood.  We had just gotten off the plane, and the lils were wound up, excited and anxious about all the new things.  Noise in the house was fine, but, as they explored the yard, we had to shush them about forty times. No one else was making any noise.

A year and a half later, most of the time, I let them make the noise. They play outside a lot, so I can either lose my mind shushing them, bring them inside, or let them have their loud fun. It likely would not bother me at all if the ‘hood wasn’t so quiet. We rarely hear anything from any of the houses around us, save for the occasional car door slam, or garbage can being rolled up the laneway. I figure that the neighbours have never outright complained, so it must be tolerable. A couple of them have mentioned that they “hear the lils when they are out.”

This past weekend, I was caught off guard by the annoying noise coming out of our back neighbour’s yard. They have always been super quiet, until Friday, when someone apparently gave their youngest child a whistle. He was going to town on that thing, short blasts, loud blasts, rapid staccato, long warbly notes…  you name it, he was doing it. It was incredibly annoying, but I didn’t say anything; figuring that they have earned a pass.