Just Call Me Melon

I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I was a competitive swimmer basically my entire adolescent life. [By the way, I don’t really know what defines a “competitive” anything, but I swam in a lot of swim meets, so I figure I qualify.] My mom ran a house of independence, which meant that if you wanted to do something, you were responsible. This included everything from doctor appointments to birthday party RSVPs to (you guessed it), swimming. For most of my swimming life, I didn’t have a driver’s license, so I was responsible for coordinating swim practice times, choosing which swim meets to attend, and which events to swim. I also didn’t have much money at these ages, so I had to ask mom or dad to sign me up for said events. This was pre-internet-signups, so every event was hand selected and hand written, mailed in with a check to the host of the swim meet. The rest of the transaction was in the fate of the mail handlers and the volunteer moms.

For one particular swim meet, my dad was the one to handwrite my sign up which was nothing unusual at the time. What you should know about my dad is that he is left-handed and writes in engineering ALL CAPS. I suppose there was some trouble deciphering his handwriting, because as they announced the names at my first event I heard them calling “MELON!” “MELON BARINGER?” I politely responded and corrected them –“my name is actually MEGAN.” The volunteer responded “oh, well it’s MELON here on the heat sheet.” No problem, I went on and swam. At my next event, I was sure they would have corrected my name, but again they called “MELON, MELON TO LANE 2!” I didn’t bother correcting the announcer, but did tell the timekeepers at my lane, “my name is actually MEGAN”, so they wouldn’t think my parents were crazy for naming me Melon. This pattern continued the entire weekend, and eventually I just started responding, “yes, Melon is here! Going to Lane 3..”

I’ve often thought about how Regan will handle situations like this in her life. There will inevitably be awkward moments for her, or questions to which she doesn’t know how to respond. One of my many goals for her is to have the courage and independence to handle those situations. My mom raised us to be responsible and self-aware, and I think it’s led to success, happiness and satisfaction in my life. One of the struggles for me is that I don’t completely understand how Regan’s brain works. Even now, I catch myself wondering – is it her or is it me?

I told y’all that we are constantly working on Regan’s development. The hard part here is I don’t know where I am failing and/or where she simply needs a little extra time to learn. It’s a constant battle between whether I’m doing enough to give her the tools she needs to succeed or if I should loosen the reigns and let her learn on her own. I’m not sure this mental battle will ever end, and again I suppose that’s just part of being a mom: navigating your role as a guide while also allowing your children to learn independence and strength.

On that note, Regan is thriving. She is indeed a little behind on the typical development chart, but she continues to demonstrate her ability to learn. She’s working on pulling up to a kneel / stand –we still have quite a bit of work to do but she is getting stronger every day. She has a knack for reading emotions and continues to talk from sun up to sun down (not exaggerating here). She can give kisses, wave hi and bye, give high fives, and melt your heart with just one little smile.

As for a tooth update –still no teeth. But we’ll take those gummy smiles all day long.