NO FEAR or anxiety clouded their faces. Their heads bobbed above the water, nestled safely between the inflatable arm bands.

I saw the tentative kicks and pulls. Anyone could see they felt quite at home in this weightless world.

In the years of their swimming lessons I watched again, but also listened and learned how to swim properly. When the time came for them to join the swim club, I worried that perhaps three evenings spent doing lengths in a pool was too tough a regime for a child. Not at all. They wanted more.

So I brought them to public swims as well. At these I donned goggles, suit and cap and joined them in the water. At first they followed close enough beside me, little minnows. Then came the day they circled me like dolphins to a whale.

Then, true to their natures, they darted around, quick and playful, and took off at a speed I couldn't attempt to follow, a species of their own.

It hasn't been easy. A couple of months back the club suggested my elder daughter would benefit with the addition of early Saturday and Sunday morning training. She pleaded and begged to be allowed to go. More wet towels hung about the house.

Then came the galas - all-weekend affairs spent cramped on a hard bench. The only thing higher than the temperature is the decibel level of the electric amplifiers blasting out announcements and races. Hundreds of anxious parents and contenders wait and wait for their races to be called.

Some thoughtful person decided that rock music should be played during any breaks in the proceedings. A strange logic, that: to drown out noise by creating more.

The wait is well rewarded, however, as you see your child stand on the edge of the starting block. Like a coiled spring, your offspring leaps through the air and cuts the water, coming up to gracefully execute a butterfly or glide into a breaststroke.

You find yourself cheering from the bottom of your lungs. Win or lose, no matter whose children they may be, I can't help admiring how they're able to do it.

I suppose hope and inspiration are what keep us all going. This morning was very difficult, however - it's hard to get inspired before the sun is even up.

You see, she now swims from 6 to 7.30 a.m. It's only once a week at the moment, she promises me. The truth is the next advanced group swims at least five times a week. There's also talk of the Leinster championships.

My conscience keeps reminding me how good it is for them to participate. I'm just finding it hard to convince the rest of me.