Raising Mermaids
Every spring break or summer, my mom would load my brother and I in the car, and we’d make the long drive from South Texas to Louisiana. Ten hours, several car games and food stops later, and we’d be pulling into a complex, my great grandma happily waiting with a fold out couch bed for me and an update on the state of the apartment pool. She only went to that pool twice a year. Once to check on it before we got there, and then however many times she could stand to physically go with us while we were visiting. I was always her little mermaid, and she cheered on any trick I did.
Three summers in a row my mom put me and my brother on a swim team at our community pool. The first summer, we found out that I wasn’t a bad swimmer, but I was by far the slowest swimmer on the team. Being an overly competitive kid, and the worst on the team is rough on the ego. Needless to say, it was a humbling summer. So was the next one. The third summer, I finally got a ribbon…because I was on a relay team. We placed third out of four teams. My family cheered like I had carried the team to victory, and we ignored the fact that I was the reason the fourth-place team almost caught up to us. Everything about those swim team summers was humbling: from the goofy caps that I hope, probably futilely knowing my mom, that there’s no pictures of to coming in dead last every race of every meet.
Swim team ended, blessedly, and we got in the car and made the trek up to Louisiana. Over a midnight bowl of Lucky Charms, grandma asked me how swim team had been that year, and I told her the truth: I hated it. The next summer was the first that mom was going to let us decide if we wanted to continue or not, and I already had my answer, absolutely not. As we talked, we ate our cereal, saving the marshmallows for last, and she didn’t say much about my decision to quit swim team. The next morning, she asked if I wanted to go to the pool, and we went. I was still her little mermaid, and she still sat and cheered for anything I did.
The live action remake of the Little Mermaid came out this year, and a new generation is re-obsessed with mermaids. I’ve seen parents take their kids to see it in costumes and thought about how much grandma would love to see the mermaid fascination taking a strong hold again.
Now I have my own little mermaid sleeping at home with a mermaid mobile dancing over her crib. I hope one day she’ll have someone that cheers her on and reminds her that you don’t have to be the best at something to find joy in doing it. Sometimes it’s okay to slow down and just play mermaids.
Cheering you on from the sidelines,
SB
