Learning to Swim

When I was five, maybe six years old, my mom enrolled me in swim lessons at the local pool. On my first day, the fifteen year old "teacher" came up from behind me, pushed my head under the water, and then proudly said, "See there is nothing to be scared of. You survived." I had just gulped buckets of water, my eyes were stinging, and I knew right then that this swim teacher was not to be trusted with my life.
I think it is safe to say I was traumatized by the experience.

Thankfully, the boys haven't had such an experience. Blowing bubbles in the water wasn't anything compared to a near drowning. However, this year marks the end of swim lessons. Keagan hates swim lessons and reminded me today that I told him two years ago he could stop taking lessons when he learned to use a stroke. He can do three strokes when he wants to. It seems that this past week he made certain I understood that he didn't want to swim when he proceeded to doggie paddle to and from the ends of the pool instead of using the called stroke. He might have shone independence at the water park on Monday, but it was pure rebellion at the pool yesterday.

Evan can do all four strokes and do them well. He swims gracefully and almost effortlessly. The way I always wanted to be able to swim. He can snorkel in the ocean, dive deep into the coral, and flip back to the surface for air better than most adults. He can swim across the length of the pool and back again and never gasp for air. He can do it again and still not gasp for air. Today I was told that there really isn't anything left for him to "learn", and I suggested that he join a swim team. Sadly, Evan won't even consider it.

After five years of sitting through bubble blowing, kick and catch, shark fin, and monkey/airplane/soldier, I know how to swim, too, and it wasn't nearly as traumatizing as my first experience thirty years ago.

The Fashionista

I love how Keagan can wear this and not think twice about how ridiculous it looks. He can even make it cool. If open toed shoes were allowed at school, there is no doubt that he would have the entire first grade wearing socks and "crocs" right along with him.

Socks and Sandals...Whoa Whoa Whoa!

Baptism Sunday

We aren't Methodist, so they weren't sprinkled with water.
We aren't Catholic, so they didn't receive communion, and
we aren't traditionalists, so we don't attend a church with a baptistry.
However, we had a pool in a church member's backyard, and today both boys were baptized. First, it was Keagan. He was just a little nervous.

Then it was Evan's turn.

Praise God!

Summer Fun

It's a month overdue, I know, but today I finally took the boys to the water park on Jekyll Island. I had no idea it was going to be so much fun! Otherwise, I would have squeezed this trip into a day in the beginning of June. Of course, the fun could have been due to the fact that I had to ride zero (count it, 0) water slides, and the boys learned that they could do flips and headstands in the lazy river while I floated on an inner tube. Can you say perfection? Maybe it was all the treats I bought. I went overboard with buying the boys both Italian ice AND Dippin' Dots. Who can't be happy when you get to have both in one day? Don't judge. The trip was a reward after all.

As much fun as we might have had, the highlight was most definitely the moment the boys looked at each other and said, "Let's go ride the slides." And then, almost as if they were hoping I would agree, "Mom, you can stay here in your chair if you want." Who was I to say no? From my lounge chair, I watched my babies, who I realized are no longer babies, walk themselves across the wooden bridge to the two big slides, and I knew all of those hundreds of dollars of swim lessons would give me some peace of mind. In the meantime, my boys' attempt at independence would give me one great tan.(By the way, that lasted about 15 minutes, and then the boys had to come check on me.)

Life in the Slow Lane

This weekend marks one full year in Georgia. (By the way, I can't even begin to believe that is has been 367 days since we left Virginia.) Here's what I have learned after a year of living in the deep South.

1. Grits are good. Especially if you lather them in cheese and garlic. They are even better with blackened fish.

2. There is no rat race and no one really worries about getting ahead. Life is about how many trips you can take to the beach. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with this when you live within an hour's drive of many great beaches.

3. All Georgians must have some innate desire to produce fire because there is ALWAYS a fire burning in this town. They even set their own yards on fire. They will tell you that it brings new growth to the yard and a much thicker turf. Maybe so, but Scott's Turf Builder will do just the same, and you don't have to worry with burning down your house in the process.

4. We can talk like Georgians now. Keagan has the Southern drawl, Evan has the misplaced object pronouns (them chickens), and I can proceed every sentence with "honey" and "darlin."

5. Muddin' is a popular past time in Georgia. I went muddin' one time. I was 17, and after a heavy rain, my car slipped and slid in the unpaved driveway of my parents' new house. It was not done intentionally and it was extremely annoying. But in Georgia, people atually LIKE to slip and slide in the mud - mess and all. They claim it is fun.

6. Georgians, for the most part, are very friendly. They will invite you to church, wave to you on the back roads, and invite you on a weekend fishing trip. If the fishing trip invite included a boat with a working motor, I might just consider it.

7. It is possible to survive without a Target within a 10 mile radius of your house. It took several months of withdrawls for me to adjust to the big change, and I still get very giddy when I walk into a Target store when I have been away for more than two weeks. However, I have learned you can buy just about all of the store on-line. Who knew it could be that easy?

I don't know how it could already be a year because it seems like just yesterday we were finding our way through this two street town. At the most, we have two years left. Evan is hoping for an assignment in Hawaii, Keagan is hoping for Texas, and I am hoping for anything that keeps us out of Louisiana. Until then, we will continue to enjoy life in the slow lane in the deep South.

Do You Believe in Magic?

Maybe it is the extreme heat. Maybe it is boredom. Maybe my kids are just weird. However, Evan has proclaimed that our stray cat, the cat that is no longer stray because he calls our house his, as a magical cat.

You might wonder how a mere eight year old is able to discern magical cats from everyday house cats. This is his explanation. He simply asked the cat, "Are you a magical cat?" The cat nodded, blinked, and then used one claw to point to the woods. I felt like the cat moved his head to probably ward off a host of gnats swarming around his head because it is June and we are in Georgia, blinked because he clearly has some eye infection that causes seepage and other nastiness, and pointed a claw as a warning to Keagan to stay clear of him/her because Keagan feels like carrying the cat is a must.

But I was totally wrong. Because according to Evan, Morgan LeFay, the mistress of magical adventures in the Magic Tree House book series, has actually taken over the body of our cat, our stray cat with the jacked-up left eye, just as she did in book five of the series (which was set in Egypt for any of you MTH followers), and she is now inviting both boys on a set of adventures in their own magical tree house.

There's no word on what happened with Jack and Annie, the original Magic Tree House Adventurerers.

Sadly, I am unable to go with them on their adventure because even though I asked the cat if she was magical and she did blink, she did not nod her head. I am only slightly disappointed to not be able to participate in any of the adventures to far-away places that include the cat, my boys, and a tree house that flies.

Evan was dead set on this as truth. However, he couldn't actually take his magical adventure until the tree house could be located. The books clearly state that Jack and Annie find the tree house in book five at sunset, so we waited until 9:21. By that time, it was so late that the entire adventure had been forgotten. It's surprising really because I had jumped on the bandwagaon and clearly expected Merlin/Morgan (the gender of our cat has yet to be determined) to exert his/her magical powers.

Story to be continued should the cat nod, blink and point one claw in the direction of the tree line.

Blueberries for Keagan

Have you read the children's book Blueberries for Sal? It is one of my favorites, and today when I took Keagan to Brewer's Farm to pick blueberries, we were living that book. It was written sixty plus years ago, but my Keagan is Sal all over. I found him stuffing his mouth with multiple berries while dropping one berry into his bucket. After half an hour, Keagan's one berry drops were still making a kuplunk sound because his bucket was still empty.

When it came time to pay for the berries, Keagan's bucket had less than a pint of berries. At least a quart were in his tummy, though, and when we got to the check out line, the owner of the farm looked quizzically into his bucket and asked what happened. Keagan replied, "I take my blueberries seriously."

Unlike Sal's Mom, I am not spending my afternoon canning berries. Blueberry pie is in the making for tonight's dessert, and Keagan says blueberry smoothies are a must for breakfast tomorrow. One stomach ache later, though, Keagan might need to rethink how serious he wants to be about blueberries.

Little Boy Dreams

One of Evan's biggest dreams came true this week. I know he is only eight and big dreams at this age constitute buying a new Wii game and twelve months of summer vacation. Perhaps his dream is more of a milestone. He is none the less excited.

His dream? He is attending football camp at one of the local high schools.

His dream might have been dashed just a bit when he found out he wasn't actually playing in the stadium, and he might have have been just slightly irritated when the head football coach spent more time working with the 10-14 year olds on the first day of camp. This was all erased from his mind today, though, when the coach referred to Evan as the key player.

The key player! When I went on and on about what a great compliment this was, Evan replied, "It's not that great, Mom. It's not like he is a college or pro coach. Now, if someone important said that then it would mean a lot."

And just like that. His little boy dream changed. His dream has been altered to include playing for bigger people and their even bigger stadiums.

Turks and Caicos Conch Farm

We needed a break from the sun, sand and surf, so we spent the morning at a Conch Farm. Until this week, I had no idea that an animal actually lives in the conch shell and that it makes for a great meal. After today's tour of the farm, we know more than anyone ever needs to know about the sea snail. However, we couldn't leave the island without a conch shell. We took the rental car down another gravel road to Pelican Bay where we were told we could find conch shells washed up on the beach. 

Sure enough. There were two; this just so happens to be the number allowed through customs. After a thorough wash, we are hoping to find the shells to be animal free.

Sopadilla Bay at Chalk Sound

 It would not be a Toole vacation if we didn't take a rental car down a dirt path, and to maintain our adventuresome spirit we did just that today. We had to master driving on the left side of the road (well, Wes had to master this), and we had to manuever round abouts that made me dizzy. It took us a while to find the right dirt road, and after finally stopping a construction worker, we were on our way to pure bliss.

The water here at Turks and Caicos is the clearest and most beautiful that I have ever seen. The water is so blue that the sunlight is reflected off the water and back into the clouds so that the clouds hold the same aqua blue. I bet there is a scientific name given to this phenomenon because I know I read about how people from all over come here to study it, but because my knowledge of clouds is limited to cumulus and cirrus, I am really at a loss for anything more specific. Let me just say I have never seen it before and I think it is beautiful.

It is at this same bay that pirates shipwrecked thousands of years ago. They buried their treasures and left clues to the hidden loot with a map carved in the rocks, but the stash has never been found. The boys were so taken by this tidbit of information that they began their own search for jewels and gold coins.

We now have an entire collection of beach shells and rocks that contain hidden messages that only Evan and Keagan can decipher.

The Wedding Crashers

One of my very best friends from college, Lynette, spent this past week on St. Simons Island with her family, and we met them there this weekend for dinner. After dinner, we took a walk around the pier and shoreline where hundreds of people were fishing and picnicing. If I told you that the boys almost crashed an outdoor wedding when they began a rousing game of soccer and used an aisle of white rose petals as the goal line, you would probably think the meeting was a complete disaster. However, the bride and groom were good sports about it, and the mother of the bride didn't even balk when one of Evan's punts caught her in the back of the legs. They never even scowled at Keagan when he took a seat in the white chairs set up on the waterfront for the wedding guests. I wish I were a fly on the wall, though, when the couple takes their first look at their wedding photos and finds four strange boys chasing a soccer ball in the background of every shot.

Thanks Lynette, Billy, Henry and Max for meeting up with us. Let's hope we don't crash any more weddings next fall when we meet again.

Snorkeling

There aren't too many really big waves here at TCI, but there is enough of a breeze for the boys to boogey board. However, the highlight of day two of our vacation, has been the snorkeling. Our hotel is located 20 feet from a coral reef that is home to hundreds of varieties of fish and turtles. Although we haven't seen a turtle, Evan has spotted puffer fish, decorated crab, and angelfish.

Keagan didn't take to the snorkeling on his first try, and after lots of pouting and tears, he finally solved the problem when he created a snorkel float that includes his boogey board and mask. 

After a two hour break (mandatory per me), the boys will be right back at it.

Summer Vacation

We made it to Turks and Caicos with only a few minor problems: no luggage and a rain shower. However, within a couple of hours, we were on the beach in swim suits and in the sun. With this view, though, it could rain all week and I think I would still be happy.

We've Been Adopted

It began yesterday morning. Keagan and I were working on some soccer drills in the side yard. We heard something, and we ignored it because our tree line is constantly filling our lives with the sounds of nature. We heard it again, though, and Keagan decided it was time to investigate. Within minutes, this is what walked out of the tree line.

A short time later we left the house to run errands. I prayed the whole way there and back that we would get home and find the cat gone. Evan would not have it, though. He claimed the cat as his. He persuaded me to buy some catfood. He checked out a book at the library about caring for a cat. He spent the next few hours fretting over the cat, the food, and the heat.

When we got home, we found the cat patiently awaiting our return, and because the cat was still here when we awoke this morning, I think it may have adopted us.

The cat's first photo shoot took place after breakfast. If photo shoots with sunglasses, sunglasses on the cat I might add, won't scare the cat away, then I guess it is here to stay.

We Live in a Fantasy World

We went to the pool today. After seven summers of making the trip to and from the pool and beach, I think I have finally mastered the art of packing the pool bag. This is a fine art that takes years to master. Only the very best can remember to pack a salty snack, a fruit snack, a granola snack, drinks, goggles, earplugs, swimtoys, water balls, sunscreen, towels, and an extra toy or two. I may have done it today, but I am making no promises that the magic of packing the perfect pool bag will materialize ever again.

Yesterday the boys played in the sprinkers because I still live in a fantasy world and tell myself that I can get our yard in tip top shape without the help of a professional, and I spent an hour spreading ironite and fungicide over mounds of sand with tiny sprouts of something that resembles half dead grass. After all of this, I ran the sprinklers. The boys were in the middle of it playing Ben10 with no worries about the iron pellets plastered to their feet and bellies. After five summers of watching the boys morph into aliens, I am betting this is the last summer that they play Ben10 together in the sprinklers. Evan has even put all five of his real Ben10 watches aside and uses his wristband to call on the alien of choice. It can double as a Ben10 watch, and it is so much more cool than the actual watch. You can wear it and everyone will assume it is just a wristband. Only I know better. I think this is why he is so concerned with wearing his wristband on the soccer field; he thinks he can call on Four Arms for an extra boost when in need. 

He, too, lives in a fantasy world. Only his seems much more entertaining.