Swim mom still hoping for the gold

The headache-inducing smell of chlorine … the fidgeting with cap and goggles … the echoing buzzers and cheers …

Michael Phelps' mom, I'm right there with you. We are sisters in swim. Well, actually, I'm not right there in Beijing watching my child win medals and smash records like she is, but I could be.

At least, that's the way I see it. Just like Mrs. Phelps - and she seems like a nice person you'd enjoy having coffee with, doesn't she? - I spent years as a swim mom, ferrying unenthusiastic children to practice, pulling them out of bed at 4 a.m. to drive to meets.

Good times, good times.

Obviously, Mrs. Phelps' swimming story is ending differently than mine.

"Did you honestly think we could be Olympic swimmers?" my 24-year-old daughter asked incredulously as we cheered for Michael Phelps and I confided that when they were little, I'd seen gold medals in my daughters' futures.

In my defense, my daughters - now 24 and 21 - were good swimmers. On the teams they swam with, they racked up dozens of blue ribbons and even broke a few records. (OK - the records they broke were at the Athens, Tenn., YMCA and have long since been surpassed, but still.)

Anyway, I know by now - my daughters never overlook an opportunity to revisit this subject - that my dreams were doomed mainly because my kids hated swimming. Hated it. In fact, my younger daughter has told me she only swam fast because 1) she was afraid there were sharks in the pool and 2) she wanted to get done and get home. My older daughter recently declared she will never force her 4 1/2-month old son to swim.

"What if Mrs. Phelps had said that?" I countered. "Where would Michael be today?"

I only got an eye-rolling.

I have to admit it wasn't all fun. There were tears and disappointments along with victories. Plus, once my daughters hit middle school they were too old for me to make them swim. So I made them do band instead. Less chlorine but not significantly fewer headaches.

I'm glad Mrs. Phelps never wavered in her belief that Michael would be an Olympic champion. When her son credits her with his victories and tosses his Olympic bouquet to her in the stands, she's representing all us swimming moms who never made it out of city-recreation leagues.

The good news is that I haven't given up. After all, there's celebrated Olympian Dara Torres, who returned to the pool at age 41 - so that means I've got several more years of dreaming.

Cathy Wood is a freelance writer living in the Shoals. E-mail her at cathylwood@gmail.com.