The cool water looms in front of me and I count 1, 2, 3…over and over until I take a deep breath, plug my nose, start to run… and teeter on my toes at the edge of the dock before stepping back and gearing myself up again and again.
It takes time. I don’t want my legs scratched up by the weeds and the thought scares me.
Sometimes I plunk myself down on my behind and slink my toes into the water to swirl them around and test it again.
It takes patience. I know the water won’t hurt me. and yet the unknown scares me so immensely I stupidly imagine myself drowning in a sea of tears and suffocation.
It takes my heart a long time to warm up to just the right temperature.
I often wonder if I will always be that way. If I will miss out on things because of all my reservations.
Once in a great while, I have a bout of bravado that allows me to jump in, again and again and again…with only a small tug of fear, but still enough guts to realize that that fear will be replaced with laughter and friendship and love.
And once in a great while, I get caught on the snags and tugs of what will be the friendship that I can only liken to the love of a sister. Someone who is patient enough to reel me in over and over until I’m comfortable in the water. Someone who has also teetered on her tiptoes on a dock.
On Monday, the kids and I drove to Casey’s house, as you might already know. Casey and I live in different countries, 642 kilometers apart. That’s 398 miles. Casey’s oldest daughter convinced my 12 year old to play Barbies. Heh.
The differences in our lives aren’t much. Aside from the fact that America has cool things like Mexican Coca Cola, Trader Joe’s and places where the staff are so daft you can break the rules pretty easily – Casey and I do a lot of things the same way when it comes to parenting, household routines and such.
(Right down to playing Wii with our kids – I picked up Just Dance and Michael Jackson’s The Experience today and we’re rocking out to it while I write this post. So. Much. Fun.)
(super tired from playing so hard)
Once I go home, talking on the phone isn’t really an option. Chat is okay but I’m not often online enough to remember to turn it on. Email is pretty much the best way for the two of us budget-conscious moms to communicate.
I’m hoping she’ll help me through figuring out some parenting challenges I’m facing. She’s likely going to need support at some point too.
That and we’re gonna miss each other like crazy. And I don’t think we’ll be the only ones.
Back-story: the boys and I are at Casey‘s house this week, embracing the love we have for Americus, and getting lots of time with a very hilarious Addie and a very adorable new baby Vivi.
It is stinkin’ hot here, just like it is back home – so we took the kids today to an indoor playplace, stuffed full of inflatable slides and whatnot – as well as glorious, glorious air conditioning and ice cold American Coca Cola. NOM. (I swear it tastes better down here and I drink pop maybe once a year.)
Anyway.
Near the end of our little excursion, Casey and I admitted to each other that we’d really love to go down the slides at the back of this place. Unfortunately, adults are not allowed on the equipment. Because clearly, we who have brought spawn into the world should never have fun again. Stupid play-place.
Fortunately, we don’t care about rules.
Also fortunately, the referee-like-dressed staff could not see said slides from the front-end of the play-place. (You know where this is going, right?)
The only one on duty walked the length of the building, back and forth, back and forth, shouting at kids to stop wrestling, redirecting kids to go down the slides on their butts instead of head-first and generally scowling at the fact that this was her job.
My 12 year old is a rockstar – he took video while he kept watch, and this is what happened:
