Our kids were in a swim meet on the weekend where Greg worked as a parent volunteer on the deck and Chloe and I rooted the girls on from the stands, easily devouring two full boxes of Triscuits before 10am. Any given Sunday.
Like a magnet, Chloe found a once white crash mat, now a uriney grey colour (if urine could be grey) at the top of the stands that any CSI worth their flashlight would have immediately ordered first to tox and then to trace, where we snuggled in to enjoy the festivities.
Sometimes the spectacle at these events isn’t in the pool but in the stands.
We watched nervously as kids no older than Chloe hopped on one foot up and down dangerous cement steps, siblings of swimmers tried to find ways to pass the time. I’m always tempted to suggest spitball fight through red licorice straws because that never failed to get me into trouble and/or banned from ever returning to hockey arenas when I was a kid which was always the end goal.
After the first race, I started to take note of a something.
Many of the parents in the stands took to modern technology and held their smartphones in the air when their child was swimming. When Chloe and I were practicing our pyramid on our sometimes wrestling mat, sometimes mattress, I got a look at what people were doing. Some were video-taping their children. Others were using the device as a stop watch.
I guess this interested me because my husband and dozens of other parents were lined up on the deck for the duration of the meet with actual stop-watches so this exercise of holding up your arm in the stands seemed entirely redundant and just screaming for a hand cramp. At first I thought maybe they were waving a lit candle app which I think the swimmers would have really appreciated and Chloe and I would have enjoyed the ambiance.
The smartphone people were backing up the team of volunteers who are just back-up for the electronic scoreboard taking the times which backs up the electronic underwater touch-pads which backs up the plunger devices.
When some (not all, remember there was a mother-daughter synchro upward dog pose contest on the crash mat) of the parents clocked their kids’ times, they seemed utterly disappointed.
They said things like, “Ah, Jackson added 2.5 seconds to his best time.” (I have learned that adding time is actually a negative) or, “I guess her mind just wasn’t in it.” Or, “It’s a slow pool today.” I’m not sure what that last one means. Is it like a wave pool where the current forces you backwards or offers a little ripple of resistance?
Through all of the friendly cheers and clapping, there seemed to be a lot of negativity and it was a little sad to see how invested the adults were in finding problems in what should be a fun, Triscuit-filled experience for the entire family.
Then as Chloe was wrapping up her conversation with a new mother who held her baby in a sling while Chloe asked things like, “Well did the baby push on your belly to get out?” and “Why did you want to have a baby?” I saw a young girl from another club run up to the stands and hug her Grandpa.
Through a sea of parents recording times, anxiously awaiting posted rankings and making excuses as to why their kids hadn’t performed to their highest expectations, I got a little choked up.
Grandpa hugging a kid dripping chlorinated water all over his Sunday best: I love you honey. You did your best.
I wish there was an app for that.
