idontbelieveingrammar

Eventually the sunlight through the windows forces me out of my bed. I crawl out of my narrow twin mattress, quiet so not to wake the girl in the other bed right beside mine. I shuffle to the bathroom, strewn with swimsuits, tanktops and toothbrushes. I brush my teeth. Skip makeup. Pull back a ponytail and head to the kitchen in search of a cup of coffee. The other girls sleep soundly upstairs, tired from a late night of talking and laughing into the wee hours. I walk outside, the air smells familiar. Like the river and I breath in every bit of the water, look up at the hills and feel my stomach muscles sore from so much laughing the night before. And I could have written that exact first paragraph 15 years ago. It all feels very deja vu. This slight ache in my heart that wants to see my family but is not ready for this to end. The part that wants one more day. One more week. Another night of Johnny Appleseed and fuzzy wuzzies and maybe some more night swimming and smores....

Tess: "I want a snack right now!" (foot stomp) Me: "Well, you aren't going to get anything acting like that." Tess:"I'm not acting!!"

My father taught me many things. Some on purpose. Some on accident. How to tie a tie. How to tie a cleat hitch. How to put away a dozen raw oysters. And that you should only eat them in months that have r in them. That black dress socks pulled up to the knee with white slip on Keds is not a good look for anyone. Bellies and bald heads sun burn first. That change adds up. That nothing is free. That life is anything but fair. That Bs aren’t good enough. How to order a beer in at least a half dozen languages. The way to Eldorado. (gaily bedight this gallant knight in sunshine and in shadow.) How to pour a drink. How to throw a cowpatty. (yes, you read that correctly). How to drive a boat. How to properly taste wine, although it involves something called clucking, and I think looks ridiculous. And should never be tried with whiskey. To tip well. To never run out of gas. To play a mean game of ping pong. That strawberries stain. That you get what you pay for. To let your meat rest. Whe...

I am about a week into summer and feel like I have already gotten a summer’s worth of material.   One week and one day ago, I was giving finals. And the power went out, which I can assure you are ideal final taking conditions. In the 1800s. So I was out in the hallway joking around with a few other grown ups. Someone said something inappropriate (not me for a change) and I literally doubled over with laughter. And when I went to right myself, pain shot all the way up my spine. And stayed there. As I hobbled down the hall. Now, I am coming up on another birthday. Usually birthdays don’t phase me. I dig them. It means going out with my friends, getting to pick where we go, pedicures and presents. My husband and a few friends have given me the grow up lecture more than once, so the years creeping up don’t usually phase me. But as the pain lingered in my back with every step and it took a pep talk to get me out of my chair…this birthday I am feeling every one of my years. Fr...

There is always a phase of starting over with swimming after a long winter off. My son has camp in a week and I want to make sure he can pass his swim test. So we hit to pool. We were in the deeper end and Owen was getting ansy. I remembered swim tests where we had tread water for a few minutes. So I tried to teach him. Thinking this was a skill that maybe he would need. You know, in case he is ever shipwrecked or takes up water polo. So I told him to move his arms and legs back and forth underwater. And like a good teacehr, I attempted to demonstrate. But it I has been a while since I have tried to tread water, meaning I didn’t do it so gracefully.  I’m not sure there is actually a way to do it gracefully. The water wasn’t quite deep enough so I mostly just looked like was drowning. Thrashing about in shoulder deep water. The life guard kept his eye on me, and Owen just looked at me like I was crazy. And asked,  “So which way do you go?...

I have a fond place in my heart for skating rink. And I mean, even before I was hot stuff in the 6 th grade eating nachos with my vavuumed stacked bangs hoping someone would ask me to couple skate to some Bryan Adams. Before that. Way before that. More like when I was 5 or 6 and spent every Wednesday summer mornings leaving some skin on the blue rink of Pooh’s park. Running into the carpeted wall and then eventually ditching the skates and sliding down the big slide on that tiny yellow piece of foam.   Tonight Tess had an end of the year tball party at a local skating rink and I quickly paid for 2 skate rentals before I realized that Tess would have nothing to do with those ugly yellow boots with wheels. She has high standards for anything that goes on her feet. And was perfectly happing in her sparkly pink flops watching the rest of us bust our asses. So I got Owen some skates and used the second pair of blades for myself. And tried to push th...

I sat on one of my favorite couches with one of my favorite people and looked at pictures. A new mom showing off photos of her baby. We compared noses and eyes and talked about who he favored most. And it was normal and good. Just another Tuesday with a friend. A mom showing me pictures of her newborn. Except hers was stillborn. And he wasn’t just sleeping sweetly in these photos. And somehow I looked. I nodded. I agreed. And oohed and ahhed just like you do with most baby pictures. Because you can’t help it. I compared them to his sister’s newborn photos. And it was normal and okay and good. And he did look like his sister. And have amazingly sweet blond hair. And wrinkled little feet. I wasn’t pretending or trying. I meant it. I wanted to see. But later in the car. It hit me. And I shook with grief. I had to pull over more than once and gather myself together enough to get home. To stop crying long enough to see the road. And when...