Archives for posts with tag: swimming

School’s out, and the days yawn, tantalize, or drag on, depending on whether they’re filled with packing and errands or play and pleasure.

For the pleasure-filled ones, however, we are most grateful. Here are our greatest pleasures, of late:

  1. Picking blackberries. The patch down the road is in the slow-rolling ripening stage. We’ve been checking for weeks, smelling the white-blossomed flowers, watching the blossoms transform into green berries, then noticing the green-to-pink development. This week, we walked down and found that, in a few cases, the transformation was complete: blackberries! (Never mind that they’re really a deep purple and not really black.) Weeds and flowers rise among the brambles, and the snags on clothes and hands (or hair, arms, legs…) are just part of the price of picking. Girl enjoys picking them perhaps more than eating them, but Boy eats all that he picks, and when I put a handful into his cup, he upends it, and the berries roll down into his mouth, warm, plump, and sun-warmed, making the eating-berries-in-the-berry-patch experience at least twice as good as eating the same berries at home. It is completely glorious.
  2. Sitting on the front porch. Shaded from the near-summer’s heat, we do all sorts of things: Trim nails. Draw with chalk. Listen to – and watch for birds (especially pileated woodpeckers – those that Woody Woodpecker was based on. I think our local pair had babies!). Eat popsicles (homemade from grape juice, most recently). Eat blackberries. Snuggle on the bench. Read books. We finished Edward Eager’s Half Magic, a book I remember loving from my own childhood. Even after an adult read, I love it still. The possibilities in a world of magic! Something I appreciated, too: Jane remembers her father, who died, and while the book is about adventures and misadventures with a magic charm, the family matters add a little weight, bringing the book down from airy fluff to something more solid and earth-bound. Girl was engrossed, and we’re eager to continue reading his books.
  3. Playing with water. It’s hard to beat the joy a pool brings, whether we enjoy a friend’s pool or go to a public pool with friends (or make new friends while there). Girl’s swim lessons/swim team practices aren’t a chore but a treat. A puddle, real naturally running water – we should get out and enjoy more of that, too. Goodness knows Boy enjoys having his shoes off as much as possible! The hose at the Bluestone House is a big draw, too: arcing it to see rainbows, splashing water on the cars, watering the clover so it will grow – until they use up the water, of course (the ease of the plumbing manifold system – we can turn off the water supply to the outdoor faucet when needed!). I’ve even gotten them to paint with water on the driveway a bit, like Emily and I did when we were kids.

What are your greatest summer joys? For now, we’re looking forward to more blackberries!

Yesterday was Tuesday. Seven days of swim lessons were behind Girl – this year. Last year, after two weeks, I was ready to sign her up for the next session to further her progress.

“Wait ’til next year,” Coach Max said then. “She can’t do anything else until she’s ready to put her face in the water.” He might have said it would be a waste of time to sign her up for another session, but memory can be a strange and fuzzy thing.

Oh. Scratch that plan. One round of swim lessons in 2014: yes. One swimmer: no.

She’s five now. I wish I could say that she’s taken off, that she dips her head below the water like an ice cream cone being dipped in chocolate. I can’t. Or if I can, it would be a disappointingly dunked cone, one that would make a little kid sad. However, she did touch the bottom of the pool yesterday, fully submerged, before popping above the surface. One fully covered cone!

I told her that she was doing great, of course, because she was. “Only two more days left!” I said on our way to the car.

“Tomorrow is our penultimate day!” she announced.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed. “Yes, it is.” Leaps and bounds, this girl, leaps and bounds. Make that splashes and bubbles.

Progress!

Progress!

We survived an unexpected doctor’s visit yesterday (Baby Boy was beside himself, crying and screaming and inconsolable, for hours – nothing was apparently wrong besides being extra tired, and today has been a far better day), and today, we had a lovely trip to the swimming pool. Sister LOVES to swim, with floaties, and Brother has the crazy little-babies-kick-in-the-water thing going on. It’s some instinct, I tell you – I’d both love to and be terrified to let him try to swim in the water. We ate ice cream and hot dogs and Baby Boy smiled a lot. Baby Girl was enormously happy herself. She cracked us up on the car ride home, at one point, repeatedly saying, “Hola,” like “Diego’s daddy said.” With each syllable overemphasized and repeated until the sounds lost nearly all meaning, we laughed. Undeterred, she said, “I’m teaching you!” to her daddy until he repeated the sounds back to her. “That’s Spanish talk!” Ah, that girl.

And then, getting ready for bed tonight, we had a super sweet moment. “I love you!” I said to Baby Girl.

“I really, really love you a lot,” she said, and my heart swelled and pounded and did a flip or two (I guess it was at the pool on the diving board).

Then, apropos of what I don’t remember, I said to Baby Girl, “I’ve seen you every day of your life!” I’ve slept away from her once, for one night – when Baby Boy was born – but I still saw her each day. 

“No,” she said, with certainty.

“Yes, I have!” On this one, I felt sure. The furthest away I’ve ever been, drive-time-wise even, was an hour and a half, and that’s just been once, and just last month. I’ve been with my girl a lot.

“No,” she went on, “we will die. At the end, we will die.”

Oh. Yes, I’ve seen her every day of her life, and while at some point that will cease to be true because of sleepovers and trips and college, at some other point, that will cease to be true because I (please, let it be me before her) have ceased to be. 

Ooof.

What does she see when she looks at the world?

What does she see when she looks at the world?