I? Am an eeeediot, with a capital EEEEEE.

Seriously, I'm losing whatever few remaining marbles I once had rolling about the vast cavern of my noggin...

The latest YMCA session brochure came in the mail a few weeks ago. We've been planning to sign the kiddo up for swimming lessons again for the summer, so I figured I'd start with the Spring II session that goes through June as well as the June-August summer session. (The kiddo is seriously part fish, and has adored swimming lessons since we first started taking her, back when she was two and a mere "Shrimp-Kipper" in the pool with Mommy or Daddy. At the end of last summer, she passed the test to move up from "Pike" to "Eel" which is when the kids are in the deep end of the big, cold pool, instead of in the shallow, warm-water instructional pool. The Big Time! Oh, and also thankfully well beyond the "parent in the pool" level as well, woot woot!) I procrastinated, as is my style, on doing the registration (which could be done many ways - online, over the phone, by mail.....) until the other day when I was at the Y to work out and therefore had to be at the front desk anyway to check in, so I finally got around to it, since after all classes started for the new session this week. Yes, I patted myself heartily on the back for finally getting her registered on Monday for the class starting this afternoon. Talked up the whole swimming lesson thing to the kiddo all week, getting her even MORE psyched than she already was about the recommencement of swimming for the season. Today was an agonizing trial of patience for her, since school lets out at 11:30 but swimming doesn't start until 4. I tried to fill the time up with various tasks and errands that had to be done anyhow, thinking it would help time pass - things that she usually enjoys, even, like the post office and the drive-thru teller lane at the bank (y'know, where the cannister shoooooops up the tube and into the little banking outpost office like magic...). She got progressively more grumpy that it wasn't yet time for swimming with every passing millisecond. It was on the verge of getting ugly. She had her (brand new, chosen by the kiddo herself from the Land's End catalog and delivered to her by the UPS dude last week) bathing suit on by 2:30 and everything.

FINALLY it was time to head over to the Y. She was literally BOUNCING with glee at the impending swimming lesson - a bundle of pure excitement and joy. She didn't even complain about the pre-pool shower (which in a few weeks I'm sure will revert to its previous PITA status and become once again the thing I try to avoid if the lifeguards aren't paying attention) and was sitting poolside with the other kids with a few minutes to spare 'til 4pm.

I say hello (being the "talk to anyone" sort that I am) to the other mothers who are sitting on the bench opposite from where the kids are sitting, and catch an odd look or two in response. Well, I'd be lying if I said that catching odd looks from folks was an unusual occurrence for me - alas, it isn't. I usually chalk up this particular level of look as a "wow, this total stranger sure is chatty" type and don't really give it another thought. (As opposed to a serious Hairy Eyeball look, which is just one reason why another of my things is a total phobia of being out in public with my fly inadvertently open, and why I therefore typically safety-pin my zippers to the back of the button placket on any pants/jeans/shorts I am wearing. Also why I will never eat Oreos in public - they are the one food that invariably encrusts itself between all my teeth in a weird, chocolate grillz sorta way that makes me therefore horribly self-conscious about eating them outside the privacy of my own home/minivan, where floss and/or toothbrushes are handy. But I digress...) I wandered back over to where the kiddo was sitting poolside as the teachers swam up. I'd only intended to introduce the kiddo and explain that she was a brand-new Eel who hadn't taken lessons since the end of last summer, and as such might be a bit rusty on certain things, but as I was launching into this little spiel, I noticed I was getting the same Odd Look from the teacher.

Hmmm. This was a bit puzzling, I mean, after all, she's the teacher, shouldn't she be expecting my officially-registered child? Doesn't she have the list somewhere with the kiddo's name thereon?

Well. Turns out that the class that the kiddo is in starts NEXT week. Today was the final class of the session that's been going on for the past two months.

Damn. I am an eeeeeeediot. I must've looked at the YMCA brochure at least a dozen times in the past few weeks, and I'm telling you that I was absolutely positive it said that this session was starting this week - the 21st. Nope.

The panic that filled my heart must've been showing on my face at this point, because all I was thinking was "Oh holy heck, now I've got to pull the kiddo away from the pool while the other kids hop in the water, strip her of her bubble and haul her out of here and that is no going to be pretty AT ALL" because the oh-so-kind teacher then went on to say "But she can stay for today, that's fine."

Bless that woman. She saved me from what would've been the Meltdown to End All Meltdowns. I made a thousand apologies to her at the end of class, and she graciously said that she totally understood where I could've gotten confused, since normally the sessions are timed with the school calendars, and as Spring Break was last week, it was eminently sensible for one to assume the new session began this week, but for some reason the sessions didn't match up with the calendar just this one time.

Eminently sensible for one who didn't see the lime-green lettering on the brochure on one's kitchen counter that reads "SPRING SESSION II: APRIL 28" across the front in 36 point font, that is...

So, my latest Bad Mommy Moment was averted thanks only to the kind-heartedness of the YMCA swim instructor. The kiddo went on to get right back in the groove and was happily swimming laps (in the big pool!) and jumping in off the side in no time. I think I may bring her flowers next week...