The secret to floating
A summer mantra we could all use.
A common complaint about modern-day parenting is the challenge of shuttling children from school or camp to extracurriculars. Trying to cram in snacks, homework, and maybe a quick dinner before soccer scrimmages or dance rehearsals often feels impossible.
Staying calm — and finding enough time to reset after your own hectic day — can be even harder.
So far, Billy and I have mostly avoided that scramble. We haven’t signed up our daughter for any sports or music classes; she hasn’t asked for them yet. But we have enrolled her in swim lessons. This summer marks our third year of two-week courses — one harried half-hour class at a time.
Most of the teachers in my daughter’s life are mild-mannered. She attends an outdoor preschool where her lead teacher speaks so softly I sometimes strain to hear her. She’s a gentle guide, capturing the children’s attention like a cool breeze on a hot day.
I’m a pretty quiet person; so is Billy. We try our best to lead with patience, to model coping skills like taking deep breaths and counting to five. She also learns from her grandmothers and great-aunt — women who teach her about the world in soft, kind ways.
Then there’s her swim coach.
He’s loud and brash, funny and commanding. His voice fills the pool deck like a foghorn.
“OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM!” he bellows.
“E-I-E-I-O!” the children scream in reply.
He does this multiple times during class; each time, the little swimmers snap to attention.
“He’s so loud!” my child tells me, wrapped in a towel, walking back to the car. She absolutely loves it.
My kiddo recently graduated to the next level of swim classes, which is great! But that promotion came with a new lesson time: 6:00 p.m. Considering she’s usually fed, bathed, and reading bedtime books just after 7:00, this is a challenge — especially for someone like me, who clings to familiar routines like a lifesaver.
But we’re adjusting. Billy and I wrap up our workdays a little earlier, with one person starting dinner while the other plays and picks up toys. We eat around 5:00, just in time to help our daughter change into a swimsuit, slather on sunscreen, grab goggles, and head out the door. We’re a relay team, passing the baton as quickly as we can: me taking her to swim class, Billy cleaning up and prepping for the next day.
By the time we get to the pool (thankfully, just a short drive away), I’m usually buzzing with adrenaline. My mind spins with unfinished tasks, looming deadlines, childcare logistics, texts I meant to send. I try to stay present — clapping and cheering as my daughter kicks and scoops her way across the water — but my hand reaches for my phone more often than I’d like to admit. Before I know it, I’m refreshing my inbox, scanning my calendar, or reviewing my to-do list.
Then, the coach’s voice cuts through the mental clutter. Only this time, it’s not Old MacDonald.
“THE MORE YOU RELAX, THE MORE YOU FLOAT!” he shouts. Then again:
“THE MORE YOU RELAX, THE MORE YOU FLOAT! THE MORE YOU RELAX, THE MORE YOU—WHAT?”
“Float!!” The children yell back, beaming.
I shove my phone back into my pocket. Damn, I think. I really needed to hear that.
One by one, the students pair with instructors to practice floating. They lie on their backs, arms spread and legs stretched, and their bodies bob gently on the water. Their stomachs — “belly islands,” as another coach calls them — just break the surface. Then, the teachers let go. And the lead coach is right: the kids who remain loose stay afloat.
A lie I tell myself is that most of the issues I wrestle with started after my husband died. That’s far from true. Many of them, like my inability to relax, have stalked me for decades. (In fact, I brought up that exact struggle to my therapist in what happened to be our last session before Jamie’s death. It was a topic we barely returned to.)
I don’t know where exactly my mental block against relaxing comes from. I have my guesses — family dynamics, long-held convictions I haven’t unlearned — but no clear aha moment that’s shifted things. I still treat relaxation like something that has to be earned, a belief many women and caregivers before me have internalized. I still struggle to rest if I see or remember things that need doing. I white-knuckle my way through too many days. I have trouble staying afloat — metaphorically and literally. (No, seriously, I’m not good at floating. This feels too on the nose.)
But what is summer if not for relaxing? For floating? For taking a break from the grind?
Maybe we all need teachers in our lives who operate at a different decibel level. I know I should relax more often. I’ve told myself as much; so have the people who love me. But it’s always been a quiet kind of encouragement. Maybe what I need is a loud swim coach to jolt me awake.
THE MORE YOU RELAX, THE MORE YOU FLOAT.
What a life lesson.
Yesterday evening, I tried something different. When we got to swim class, I kept my phone in the car. (It’s a half-hour lesson. If anyone needed me, they could wait for a reply.)
I watched as my girl kicked and scooped, blew bubbles and went underwater. She flashed me big smiles; I gave her thumbs-ups in return. The boisterous lead coach did his thing.
It was simple and sweet. Even kind of relaxing. By the time we returned home, I felt light as air.
xoxo KHG
As a swim teacher myself, I loved this. We often have to be loud as pools can be noisy and the kids can't hear us with their heads underwater. But we still try to be Fun & Loud instead of Mean & Loud as much as possible :)
Swimming has been a wonderful part of my life and has taught me a million and one life lessons, why else would we have phrases like "diving into the unknown", "being in over your head" and "going with the flow".
My eyes keep going back to:
“OLD MACDONALD HAD A FARM!” he bellows"
and I laugh (literally laugh, out loud) every time. I'm laughing now as I type this! What a delight.
On a serious note (I love to be a buzzkill), are you familiar with the Taoist concept of Wu Wei? I only know about the very basics of it, but it's the more esoteric version of THE MORE YOU RELAX, THE MORE YOU FLOAT.
🧜 🏖️ 🧜