Always swim

Much to my shame, I've become one of those adults who avoids swimming at all costs. My younger self would be so disappointed in grown-up Jess. She loved to splash in the water at any reasonable temperature.

There's something magnetic about swimming when you're a kid. What kid doesn't love to swim? In the summer, I shook down my mom to take me to the public pool; in the winter I begged to be taken to an indoor pool.

I've become one of those lame adults who's always too cold to go in the water, and worse, one who hates to get her hair wet. When forced, I tentatively wade in, standing on my tippy toes to keep as much of my body out as possible. Rarely do I ever submerge.

When we visited Chicago last Christmas, the boys naturally gravitated toward the hotel pool. I donned my suit and stayed in for as long as I could possibly hack it, which was maybe about 20 minutes. "You look absolutely miserable, Jess!" my cousin noted. I was. I made a beeline for the sauna.

Many times, I bow out. I give Mark by best puppy dog eyes, knowing that he will valiantly step in and swim with the boys since Gus is the only one who still needs assistance. 

Even though it's in the 80s here in Orlando, I'm still not warm enough to want to take a dip. On Thursday evening after visiting Magic Kingdom, I passed on getting into the water, letting Mark and my mom go in with the boys. Yes, my mom could handle it, but I could not. They had a splash fight while I sat in a lounge chair and chatted with my dad.

It's bothered me a little bit ever since. In making the choice to skip swimming, I'm giving up special times with my boys, doubtlessly having our sons think of me as the boring parent.

Today when the opportunity presented itself I decided to go for it. I put on my suit and tiptoed into the water. I hemmed and hawed, and it took me a good five minutes or more, but finally I plunged into the water. 

I showed the boys my handstand, challenged them to races, turned somersaults, gave Gus and Paul rides on my back, tossed a ball back and forth with Ben. I had a grand time, emerging smelling like chlorine, my skin tight, my hair dry as straw, my eyes bloodshot. It was worth it. So worth it.

Here's my advice to you. Always swim. You won't regret it. Except maybe that first cold minute.