Chocolate Stingrays Take on Water!

Three years ago when the Squirrels first descended upon the big house in the little woods, they had nary a single swim experience to their credit.  Beings that I knew the K Family Christmas (think Griswolds) would involve a three night stay at a Bear Lodge-looking motel complete with indoor-to-outdoor pool (swimming under some plastic flaps), I figured rather than be a nervous wreck the whole time, I would teach the Squirrels to swim. 

My mom, who earlier in her life had a near-drowning experience when someone threw her in the water and told her to "Sink or Swim" (and she pretty much sunk) had secretly been taking swim lessons (as a surprise to her kids whose sightings of Mom in a swimsuit were as rare as Yeti-sightings) at a local health club.  Mom sprung for a few weeks of passes so I could teach the girls to swim. 

Lesson #1 involved both girls not keeping their mouth shut in the water so they would come up coughing and belching.  Kate even threw up at one point and I didn't want the club to shut the pool down (darn health inspectors) so I quickly shoveled the pukey water over the edge into a nearby drain (what we don't do for our kids, right?  I have a super resistance to my gag reflex after being puked on so many times).  We persistently worked every week, all winter long, to reach a point where I felt that if the girls fell into water over their head, they could flail fast enough to reach the edge of the pool. 

Katybird's progress was tested a few months later on a family vacation when she tried to step on a floatation device in the deep end of our vacation home pool and she wound up bobbing in the deep end.  Aunt Dona quickly reached in and pulled her out.  After that point, I determined a Barbie lifejacket was in order the rest of the vacation. 

Cut to this summer where not only have the girls mostly learned to swim, they are even (drumroll please) on the local swim team, the Stingrays.  My kids are easy to spot.  They have scrawny brown bird legs and big puffy heads as they try to fit their 'fros under their latex swim caps.  

Kate spent the first few meets swimming about four strokes before clutching the ropes and breathing hard.  Eli, so adept at all other sports, just can't quite seem to coordinate her kicks with her arm strokes or to lengthen her arms during the freestyle.  They also get nervous at swim meets and beings I took them off their magic blue pills for the summer (in the hopes they would put on weight and sleep better), they have taken to burning off their pent-up energy by chewing on their goggles and swim caps.  Seriously.  Eli managed to wreck three pairs of goggles and two swim caps.  Kate has wrecked four pairs of goggles (including MY pair I lent her) and two swim caps.  I hear rumor that there are such things as bungee cords for swim goggles.  I need more like titanium swim goggles.  It might make the Squirrels sink but at least I could stop forking over all this money to keep them outfitted in swim gear all summer!

The last meet of the year is coming up soon.  Katybird has managed to be able to swim the length of the pool without drowning (we were pretty sure I was going to have to go in after her on her first 100 meter individual medley) or crying (which she did in abundance when her record-setting cousin Grace came in first for a rival team and poor Katybird came in last by several meters) and Eli can now do a flip turn during her freestyle AND swim mostly in a straight line on her backstroke. 

Now that's what I call PROGRESS! 

Pond Jumps & Bieber Fever

Long overdue is a recap of the 9th birthday of Eli the Squirrel...from the land of Fruits and Nuts.  We decided Eli could invite every girl in her class since we planned to stay on the reservation AND she may not be in Cougarville the next time her birthday rolls around.  We didn't quite realize the havoc 8 giggling, frenetic little girls could create in less than 12 hours. 

The girls came bounding off the bus and dropping backpacks and lunch bags everywhere.  Eli obsesses about her birthday year 'round, so much so that we had to make a rule that she couldn't talk about her birthday until April 1st each year.  You may think that is harsh but LITERALLY the girl would bring it up every day if she could - enlightening me on the latest activity, guest list, and cake flavor she currently planned to ask for.  So when the actual birthday party happens, she is goes into a whole 'nother stratosphere of hyperactive and starts running from room to room, showing off her "treasures" while talking a mile a minute.  We call this "company mode" as she starts acting like she can mouth off to her parents and break all the rules.  A quick nip from Momzilla reminds her that she's getting a little big for her britches. 

Supper with the girls went well and then Eli decided that she would show the girls how Lumpy and Spazzoid, our spastic black labs, like to swim in a nearby pond.  This led to the girls all trying to throw dog treats in the water from the dock while Lumpy and Spazzoid swam in circles trying to gobble up the treats - only to get mouthfuls of pond water that would make them hack and gag. 

  

 Then one thing led to another and the girls decided they were going to jump into the pond...fully clothed...in mid-May.  The water had to be less than 60 degrees but when they asked if they could do it, Husband and I just looked at each other.  I could see his wheels turning.  On the one hand, this could lead to a huge disastrous mob of wet girls with pond scum hair.  On the other hand, the girls would remember this party forever.  We decided to channel our childhood memories and said, "Sure.  But watch out for the snapping turtles."  We hoped to scare the girls into rethinking their decision.  No such luck.  One by one, they jumped into the pond except for the one girl who couldn't swim.  The dock did not have a ladder so Husband and I took turns pulling the girls up out of the water. 

We trudged back to the house where I shuttled all the girls to three different showers and dumped a load of stinky pond scum clothes into the washer.  Freshly scrubbed, the girls had cake and ice cream while Eli opened presents.  Then on to the basement for the viewing of the Justin Bieber movie "Never Say Never".  Quite frankly, I am about tired of hearing about "Bieber Fever" but the girls were enamored.  I came down the next morning to find lip and hand prints on the television.  Oh dear...

But I guess we all had our crushes.  I gazed adoringly at Kirk Cameron in "Teen Bop" magazine and my first poster to go up in my own room (when I finally didn't have to share with Erin) was Jason Priestly from "Beverly Hills 90210".  My sister Susan hid posters behind the clothes in her closet...Jackson 5, Duran Duran, Kenny Loggins.  She also had posters from "Dirty Dancing" (and the matching plethora of cut off jean shorts with rolled cuffs to match). 

So after much dancing to Taylor Swift, Bieber Fevering, and late night snacks, the girls finally drifted off to sleep.  And managed to sleep until dawn when they came bounding upstairs to make the most of their final hours together.  While Husband and I blearily came downstairs and tracked down missing shoes, made breakfast, and otherwise were thankful we only do this once a year per kid. 

Reynosa Part Uno: Scrapings at Dracula's House

We've just recently returned from our church's first ever mission trip to Isaiah 55 in Reynosa, Mexico.  In a fit of overconfidence, we decided to also take the two Squirrels along.  Unmedicated.  Ooo boy.  We figured they needed to get a taste of their upcoming "transition" to the mission field. 

Complete with pink polka dot suitcases and armed with sunglasses, Kate and Eli flew the friendly skies for the first time in their life.  They were delighted to be accompanied by 11-year-olds Maddy and Sarah who are both on swim team with our girls.  Beings that all the other people going from our church were guys, I had the distinct honor of playing Den Mother to all four girls for the week.  Which mostly consisted of trying to keep them from falling out their 2nd story window as they sang Taylor Swift songs to anyone on the street who would listen.  And identifying the congealed heaps of clothing found under beds, in the shower area, etc.and returning them to their rightful owners. 

The main assignment for the week for the females on the team (other than the girl who was crushing on someone who will remain nameless but whom we will just call "Schmyatt") was to scrape the peeling paint off the soon-to-be-storage-and-migrant-worker-housing abode called (and we have yet to figure out why) "Dracula's House".  Rumor has it this two-storied, stuccoed, marble-floored behemoth used to belong to a drug kingpin.  Through a set of circumstances that I never quite distinguished, the property is now owned by an American who rents it to I55. 

The Squirrels were thrilled to be working but thought scraping was boring.  The day finally came when they could paint and I sent them upstairs with some other teenagers from the trip.  I don't know how much paint made it onto the walls but I can verify that everything else was covered, especially the girls.  At some point, Kate came down complaining that no one was painting with her.  I didn't even know she was up there by herself.  She told me she was on top of the ladder, then proceeded to try to move the ladder by herself.  As it swung dangerously close to going through a window glass, I decided that NOW was the time for some Father-Daughter bonding.  She was quickly scuttled across the street to assist Husband in framing up doorways at the new deaf school. 

More on our week to follow...

So Much for the SHOW ME State

I can say with absolute certainty that the definition of insanity is trying to keep a house in a "show ready" state while you have young children.  Seriously.  I may have a stroke. 

Case in point is the last three weeks.  In preparation for moving down to South Texas to join Isaiah 55 Deaf Ministries, our big house in the little woods has gone on the market.  When I calculated what a 6% realtor commission would be, I made a decision that we would go the For Sale by Owner route.  Hours of cleaning later, I staged the house and took photos and made a mental TO DO list of all the things we had meant to do but hadn't in the three years since we have built the house. 

We had our first open house, complete with classical music playing in the background and the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.  The Squirrels and Hounds were carted off by Husband as a slow death by licking (from the dogs) is not exactly endearing to potential home buyers. 

During the next showing, Husband was halfway through his two week stint in Australia for Mama Yellow so I was left to my own devices to get the house ready.  I called in reinforcements (my mother) since I have not mowed a lawn in 15 years.  Not that I am not able...growing up, I spent many moons on the riding lawnmower on our farm in Iowa.  That's how I got my golden tan each summer.  Mom somehow overlooked our indecent swimwear if we were mowing the yard.  Or walking beans. 

But I digress...

So my mom came up to mow, resplendent in 45 layers despite the record temperatures, and her infamous straw mowing hat the screams Maxine from the Hallmark greeting cards.  Our riding mower was outside during a rather nasty windstorm that took the hood off the mower so now our mower is more of a Ghetto variety.  Plus, the cat likes to curl up in the engine compartment so the mower is probably rife with cat hair. My mom was not done mowing by the time the potential homebuyers arrived so she told me not to tell them she was my mom.  Like I am going to pretend some random lady is mowing my yard???

Again, I digress...

The lovely couple showed up with their two children to look at the house.  Much gushing later, they began to load up into their SUV.  Eli comes around the corner and shouts "DID THEY BUY IT?" to which I discretely tried to tell her a house is not something you plunk down cash on the spot for.  "YYYYEEEESSS!" she shouts while making fist pumping motions (she is not exactly overjoyed to be moving away from friends and a chance to weave the Maypole at school...a big deal for 4th graders).  The potential home buyers find this quite funny.  I wanted to crawl under the porch. 

A mere 6 days later is showing number 4.   This time, it is a single guy who is more interested in roaming the acres of woods in search of lot lines (which we have a hard time finding).  Typical guy.  They want to "walk the property line" and know how deep the well is.  The women want to know if the water is clear and if the trampoline is staying. 

As this single guy and his friend prepare to enter the house, my homeless-looking children, double-fisting cheese curls after playing outside all day, are sitting beside me on the porch swing.  May I mention here that it is a little weird to just turn your house over to others to wander through?  Who knows if they are opening up all my drawers and closets (which could be dangerous...).  The guys are almost in the house when Elisabeth shouts "CAN YOU KILL THAT SPIDER?".  I nudge her and she shouts "WHAT?" (she has one decibel level...and it's called SONIC BOOM).  I whisper that she does not need to mention spiders while people are looking at the house.  She stomps off wailing. 

Lovely.  So much for creating a mood of peace and serenity.  I could use some of that right now as I wait for our house to sell and try to undo the mass destruction caused in short order by two half-pint Squirrels with no school to distract them while trying to accommodate short notice for showings.  It's going to be a long summer...

Groovy Shoes & Strikes to Spare

Our local adoption support group had a free evening of bowling on a night that just happened to coincide with Eli's 9th birthday.  Husband was tied up in one of his interminable meeting of the minds at Big Yellow so I loaded up two spastic squirrels and headed to the Christian Center in P-town. 

Katybird decided she wanted to a green ball and wanted to bowl all by herself.  She could barely lift the ball before managing to fling it with a loud THUD on the lane.  The ball would roll ssssssllllllllooooooooooowwly down the lane (I think I saw a snail speeding past at one point) before barely knocking over a few pins.  I tried to get her to add a little oomph to her throw but her bird arms just weren't strong enough. 

Meanwhile, Eli thought this was like throwing a softball and would launch her bowling ball well into the air.  The attendant came rushing over and pulled up our bumpers or alas, Eli would have scored an 8 on her entire game.  She was very distraught that slow little Katybird managed to get a spare but Eli kept getting splits. 

Much free pizza, pop, and ice cream later, we played outside for a while before heading home.  (Note long hair on Eli...yep, my human hair extensions.  Was up at O Dark Thirty pressing her hair and adding these in so she could feel pretty on her birthday.  Sigh....)

Just a quick shout out...selected bowling alleys across the country are offering free passes for kids to bowl all summer long.  Go to http://www.kidsbowlfree.com/ to sign up.  Kids must be 15 years of age or younger.  Adults can get a summer pass for $24.95 for two games a day.  (Thanks, KF, for the heads up). 

Katybird's New Ditty

About every 3 months, Katybird crawls in my bed at O Dark Thirty and tells me she has a headache.  The first time it happened, I gave her some Tylenol and sent her to school.  She promptly threw up in her first grade classroom so now I know to tuck her back in bed and let her sleep it off...and to let her throw up at home.  Whatever ails her usually clears up by noon and then, all caught up on sleep, she is in rare form (and sans her Magic Blue Pill AKA ADHD med). 

This last Thursday was such a day.  By the early evening, Katybird had donned her pink princess dress and made up a new song for me:



I am without words. 

(Facebook followers will need to click on "View Original Post" to see the YouTube embedded video on my regular blog site). 

92 Year Old Has First Piano Recital

Last Friday, in the fair city of T town, in a small, chestnutty place on the south end of town, piano virtuoso Cleo K made his debut appearance as the oldest piano student of teaching phenom Meg K.  Cleo, a twice widower, made most recently so by the loss of the lovely Nancy K (dubbed "Grandma Nancy" by my kids) late last year. 

Cleo, in an effort to ease boredom, began taking piano lessons early this year.  His goal?  To play the "Starlight Waltz", the last song he ever practiced when taking lessons with his daughter 50 some years ago. 

The recital hall was packed by the many parents of other students and half the T town AC church that Cleo had invited.  After a dazzling display by the younger students, Cleo took the bench with a flourish, shuffled his piano music, and wowed us all.  He even had an encore number prepared. 

(Facebook reading my streaming notes will need to click on "View original post" to see embedded video)



Cleo declined to be filmed and interviewed by the local TV station.  "Why would they want to interview me?" he asked.  "Is what I am doing so unusual?"  Ummmm...yep...and may we all be so bold should we make it to 92!

 Cleo, 92, with granddaughter Abigail, age 9.