Keep your eye on the swimmers

When the girls were really little (4 and 3, probably), we spent an evening at a motel out in the desert of California. The girls wanted to swim and I didn't, so I went with them down to the pool and walked around the edges of the pool, chatting with them as they paddled about. They were both swimming by then, thanks to our stint in Florida, so I was completely comfortable with this level of supervision, even when they headed into the deep end. The hotel manager was not. She came blasting out of the office, shouting at me.

It's not a pleasant memory. But what bothers me most is that, because of her shouting, I took my eyes and attention off the girls. It was only for a handful of seconds, but I remember the sinking feeling I got in my stomach as I realized what I'd done, and I remember my relief upon seeing that both girls had, while I wasn't looking, paddled themselves over to the wall. They were hanging on, watching wide-eyed as I dealt with this confrontation. I engaged in a couple of (useless) attempts to point out that the girls could swim, that I was barely two feet away from them, that I would OF COURSE jump in fully clothed if either had the slightest difficulty. She wouldn't listen, having already decided I was untrustworthy, so the girls moved back to the shallow end for a few minutes before we decided we were really done with that pool (and that hotel) anyway.

The lesson I took away from that day is one that still serves me well now. The only time my parenting is insufficient is when I take my attention off the swimmers, my daughters. It is their needs and wants and abilities that matter, not the ignorant observations, however well intentioned, of the people around us.