idontbelieveingrammar

I drive a boat about as well as I drive a car. Which is not saying much. As much time as I’ve spent on a boat you think I’d be able to dock a Carnival Cruise ship, however, there is a pretty big difference in being a passenger and being the captain. And I love the wind blowing through my hair, to park at the island or bounce along behind it holding on for dear life while someone pulls my tube into the wake. My arms ache for days afterwards but I will trade the ache easily for the ten minutes of feeling like I am still a teenager. However, these attempts in the captain's seat usually are more comedy than success.  This weekend I even almost managed to sink a kayak...(which is a funny story for another day). My dad just bought a new boat and I tried to pay a little more attention than I had in the past. This time when offered, I made sure to take a turn at the wheel even though I’d much rather be lounging across the seat watching my kids laugh and get splashed by ...

The other day before I left for work I gave my daughter’s loose tooth a little wiggle. A few minutes after settling into my chair, turning on my computer while waiting for my email to upload, I heard my phone ding. I looked down and there was a picture with my daughter with a gap between her bottom teeth. I made a mental note to make sure I got some cash on the way home. And caught myself confused at what I was feeling. Excited for her but also sad. I wrote off the bitter part of the bittersweet as feeling that I had missed it even though I knew it had more to do with her growing up than me missing out. I couldn’t wait for my son’s first tooth to finally fall out. It seemed to take forever and took all my patience not to yank it out too soon.  It  finally happened when I hadn’t been there either. In the car with his dad on their way to NASA while I stayed behind hoping his little sister would nap so I could get back to the beach. I was nothing but ecstatic when getting th...

(I posted this a little over 3 years ago....and today is baby day for one of the toughest girls I know. Again.) For almost a month every July they were mine. A few dozen 15-16 year old girls. They came from some of the best neighborhoods and private schools to group homes and everything in between. And somehow, magically, the guards and labels and cars and boyfriends and social status didn’t seem to make it very far past those slamming double screen doors. And it only took a few nights on those hard bunks hearing each other snore and cry and fart and giggle for everyone to start getting real. And no one put on their make up in the morning. Hair air dried or immediately went up into a ponytail and it was one big community closet. And during the day we swam, fished, crafted, walked up a lot of hills and stole ice from the ice machines. After lunch they read the newest Harry Potter books on their bunks and passed around the latest Seventeen magazine. Or shaved their legs wi...