The unique horror of taking kids swimming
Is that a plaster?
Last Saturday morning, I sat on a hard plastic bench and watched a woman scoop vomit out of a swimming pool with a little blue net. Fifteen or so goggle-clad kids lined the sides looking on, knees pulled up to their chins so as not to dunk a toe in the contaminated water. Fortunately the smell of chlorine was so strong I couldn't detect the scent of sick, even when the poor swimming instructor walked past me to the staff room and informed her superior she was going home to take a shower. Deemed safe, the kids plopped back into the pool and resumed their activities with foam noodles. One of them sneezed. It was 200 degrees.
If there's anything more disgusting than taking the kids to a public swimming pool, I don't know what it is. The clumps of abandoned hair, the constant threat of verrucas, the guaranteed presence of at least one stray plaster.
The changing rooms are always manky and unreasonably hot. Whoever designed those miniscule cubicles has obviously never had to get a child out of sodden swimwear without sustaining injury.
It's a hot bed of germs and the kids are hell bent on catching whatever they can. At the afformentioend swimming class last week, a toddler who was sat on the viewing bench next to me, wriggled free of his father's grasp, dropped to all fours and literally licked the floor.
Which is why, at the age of four and a half my son has only just started swimming lessons. It has taken me until now to gather the mental grit to brave the ordeal of public pools - and only because he's now old enough to get in the water without me.
We're positively late to the party in the context of our North East London pre-school bubble. The done thing around these parts is to sign the kids up to classes before they can even crawl. On any given weekday at 9am you will find the local leisure centre full of mat-leave mums and babies bobbing about at Swimbies. Spare a thought for the weekend dads peeling slippery toddlers out of vice-tight swim nappies.
I did try it once, when my son was just shy of a year. Propelled by internal judgement and armed with a baby wetsuit, we traipsed off to the Better gym. To be fair it wasn't totally awful - at points almost sweet. Untill he flung himself off the free-standing changing table while I was attempting to get myself dressed.
What's the rush anyway? My best friend grew up in Australia where it's essential to learn to swim immediately, as due to all the sunshine, everyone has a swimming pool in their back garden. In the UK that's hardly an issue - unless you're mega rich. I suppose in that case though, grotty leisure centers aren't of concern; those silver-spoon poppets are learning front crawl in swanky healthy clubs.(However I have recently been informed the kids’ pool in Islington’s Third Space is currently shut. Shame.)
My own early swimming experiences traumas have no doubt shaped my public pool phobia. I have vivid memories of my head being dowsed in talc so that a rubber swim cap could be painfully pulled on. For some ungodly reason, the pool in my town had a communal foot bath that everyone had to walk through. Once I forgot to pack knickers in my kit bag for a school swimming lesson, so had to do the rest of the day in a pair from the lost property box.
At least back then I wasn't worried about whether my armpits were sufficiently stubble-free or not. Now a full body MOT needs to take place before I feel fit for public view: legs shaved, feet de-husked, bikini line brought under control. The sheer amount of prep that needs to happen before even stepping inside a swimming costume is deeply off-putting. Whereas my husband can just chuck on a pair of trunks and off he goes.
Then there's the matter of the swimwear itself. Striking the right balance between feel-good and child-appropriate isn't always easy. Not frumpy! But absolutely not sexy!
Traditional body shape rules of swimwear dictate I should be wearing a high-leg cossie to elongate my legs and a cheeky-cut seat to perk up my flat bum. I bought a Hunza G one-piece which does all of the above and feels fantastic on holiday - Baywatch! But in the context of the kids pool it’s positively X-rated.
Most costumes with even a modicum of chic aren't designed with the intention of keeping your boobs under wraps while a child clambers up your torso. Or only showing an acceptable amount of bum cheek to a crowd of under 8’s - and their parents. Personally I'm not ready to submit to the uninspiring control panel styles typically reserved for us mums. Don't even get me started on the style crisis that is the tankini.
Below three cossies that do fit the bill, should you be required to wear one. Which despite my best efforts, I fear includes me too: my husband has just booked the ironically named ‘family fun’ swim session at our local for the upcoming bank holiday. Wish me luck.
3 chic swimsuits for the kids pool
And you’ll need nice shower shoes!
One more thing…
The largest study into the effects breastfeeding difficulties have on maternal mental health has been published this week.
Out of the 2,000 women surveyed, 65 per cent reported difficulties with infant latching and 57 per cent had pain when breastfeeding. Over half (60 per cent) said their mental health was negatively impacted.
Mothers said they felt “antenatal preparations set unrealistic expectations of breastfeeding”, that they were uninformed by professionals about the difficulties that could occur when breastfeeding and that “professional discourse around breastfeeding made them feel pressured to breastfeed.”
Just 39 per cent reported having any knowledge of how to breastfeed before their baby was born. Only half (52 per cent) received support with breastfeeding during the postnatal period.
The findings are outrageous and heartbreaking. And if you've had a baby they won't come as any surprise. I still remember the look of horror a midwife gave me when I told her I was bottle-feeding my newborn because she wouldn't latch. Even the fact I was expressing (a soul-draining experience) and therefore giving the baby breast milk didn't satisfy her judgement.
The current attitudes around breastfeeding are hugely unfair and too often act as a stick with which to beat mothers at an already vulnerable time. Let's hope this study is the first of many things that help to shift judgements and ensure proper support is provided when needed.
And if the above sounds familiar, know you're far from being alone. And that YOU HAVE DONE AND ARE STILL DOING GREAT.
Frankie x
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Happy Mother's Day! I hope you've all been given nice wine and not had to touch a poo.
As someone who has successfully breastfed for quite a long time now, I would say that nowhere else in health care is there such disparity between the messaging to do it and the support available to do so. It’s nuts. My own critical source of support was a wonderful IBCLC who understandably, wasn’t free (though she does give up a lot of her time for free at a local community support group). I think it is another, in a long list of examples, example of women’s health and wellbeing as a side note rather than a critical priority.
I have had a third degree nipple
crack but never taken my daughter swimming, now what does that tell you.
Thank you for sharing the breast feeding article. My son was born 3 months premature and I was pressured into exclusively pumping by the nurses and lactation staff at my hospital (US), never once being offered the alternative of formula, which in reality was always going to be what my son needed to gain weight. I truly was made to feel that all I was good for was to supply breast milk and it was the least I could do (since obviously I had "failed" at pregnancy and now my baby was in the NICU). To all the moms out there, everything you do for your baby counts, not just this one thing, and you should be given all the support for whatever you decide.
And as my husband likes to say, "You probably know plenty of smart, funny, successful people who were given formula as a baby."