A Day of Pain, Some Tears

As a parent, there are many days when kids get upset and cry, but usually they are not crying over very serious matters (“I was sitting there first!”; “____ won’t give me [some toy].”; “I don’t want to go to bed now!”) and they recover quickly.

But yesterday was one of those days when tears were produced for, from my point of view, more genuine, more unsettling reasons.

First, it was Alison’s last day at swimming lessons. She is almost four, now. She’s been going to a place called the School of Swimming in Rocky Hill for two weeks, and it’s been a trial getting her there – it usually takes a bribe of ice cream or soda afterwards for her to keep it together. Not just that – but on the last day, kids in every age and ability (there are probably 40 kids taking lessons at the same time) are encouraged to jump off the diving board into 9-foot-deep water. This is quite a challenge for a little girl who cannot swim on her own in 3-foot-deep water or put her head in the water for more than 2 seconds.

So I’m watching her and she’s clearly nervous. Not much talking on the car ride there. Sort of like me going to the doctor’s. She had already told us in the days leading up to the final class that she was not going to jump off the diving board. She was adamant about that. Like reassuring parents, though, Claudine and I were positive and upbeat to her, telling her that she'd “have fun” and I think we may have said, “Don’t worry, Ali. You’ll do great.” or some vague comment like that.

But pretty much from the moment the class started, through its more brutal middle right to the end-that-couldn't-come-any-sooner, Ali was a mess. My wife had to leave pool area because Ali wanted to be held but she wanted Ali to soothe herself. (Good call.) Ethan and I stayed beside the pool watching Ali, and she came over to me, a sign of true desperation, but I told her to stay with her group, which was walking alongside the pool toward the diving board. A swimming instructor held Ali's hand as the kids made their way to the other end of the pool, the deep end.

Ali could not stop crying at this point and I reached the point where it was hard to look at her. I knew we were doing the right thing by enrolling her in swimming classes, it is never too soon to learn this life skill, but she was clearly emotionally distraught about having to jump off, or even consider, the diving board. She sat there on the edge, shaking, looking up at the ceiling, hoping someone would come rescue her. Perhaps she was praying in her own way.

To be aiding and abetting this kind of experience makes one feel guilty and distressed. A parent’s instinct is to not put his or her child through pain, yet here I was supporting it.

When the lesson was over – Ali did walk out onto the diving board, amazingly, and she waved at the spectators before turning around and sitting back on the edge of the pool, which is way more than I expected – I think there was a collective sigh of relief in all of us, from me, my wife, and Alison. We, of course, praised her on the great job she did. “You’re such a big girl! Awesome job going out on the diving board!” When I half-jokingly asked her on the way home, as she licked a lemonade ice pop, if she would go back for another lesson, I heard a “No!” so sharp that I think she knew what I was up to. Don’t even mess with me, Dad. It ain’t happening.

Less than five hours later, my wife calls and says Ethan, our 6-year-old has fallen while playing at a birthday party, and he’s hurt his arm. Now, he’s hurt his arm before and it’s usually not resulted in a serious injury. He recovers quickly. The pain is acute but over quickly, and there's no lasting damage. But this time, when he came home, it was clear that he couldn’t really use his arm – his left one, thankfully – and my wife decided to bring him to the emergency room.

The doctor examined it, took X-rays, and discovered that there was a break in a bone near his elbow. “I don’t think he’s going to need surgery,” he said. But Ethan’s arm is wrapped in a soft cast, hanging in a sling, and we have to make an appointment for him to see an orthopedic surgeon next week.

Ethan is clearly bummed. He is an active kid who likes riding his bike (sometimes with one hand despite having two), climbing across the monkey bars (effortlessly), hitting wiffleballs, shooting hoops, climbing trees. I don’t know what the prognosis will be, but if he’s in a cast for a month, it’s going to be a tough month.

We’ve already upgraded our cable so that we can watch Red Sox games, and there have been visits to the library for books and the Redbox for movies. He got a new Star Wars puzzle today, but it was painful seeing him try to put it together with one hand. Not knowing how long Ethan will be sidelined is probably forcing us to overreact a bit. (We've been without cable for three months.) But even if he’s in the cast for a few weeks, we need to find things for him to do. Summer vacation started 3 days ago. This is supposed to be a time when you can use both arms, you're feeling healthy, and you can enjoy the long hot days, swimming at the lake, running through the sprinkler, playing Frisbee, you get the point.

In a parent’s mind, there’s always something you think you could have done to avert such accidents, but in reality there is often nothing that could have been done. You can’t predict every fall. You can’t make every experience safe. Kids get hurt. Period. I have a scar on my nose to prove it when I ran facefirst into the kitchen counter when I was two. Stitches ensued. The scar is still apparent. My wife broke her arm after falling off her bed at the same age. She was trying to use the bed like a trampoline.

There’s a children’s book that I used to read to my kids a few years ago titled “Could Be Worse” about a grandfather who used to tell his grandkids that line whenever there was a problem. Spilled a drink on the morning paper? Could be worse! Lost your favorite toy? Could be worse! Got a C on a homework paper? Could be worse!

I think I’m going to pull out that book tonight to remind myself of this alternative philosophy because, even though yesterday was not the greatest of days, things definitely could have been worse.