Salted Air

I am on vacation. Right now. But have had such a fantastic day I need to capture it.

I am going to start with the end though, with the ME. I  am sitting on the deck of our hotel room, listening to the ocean sounds and drinking Pedroncelli Mother Clone. (If you don't know Mama Clone as we like to call her, you are missing out.) Anyway, I am blissful.

This is my view.

This is my sea salt.

I love it.
It is crusted onto the balcony which is hosting my glass of Zinfandel.

Anyway, this isn't what I was supposed to be be writing about. I wanted to talk about this:

HOLY GUACAMOLE Y'ALL.

Grace is standing in a real pool all by herself. Sure, it is the shallow end, but that officially makes her 3ft and 1 entire head. Which is official BIG GIRL territory.

And while I blurred out her pretty little face so you can't really see it, you should have seen her smile. The realization that she has met some sort of metric milestone. That she could be in the water and still be in control.

The realization that she was BIG.

After that moment, she asked me to carry her to the fountain in the deep end.
As we swam, I told her that she would always be my Baby.....
And then brought her back to the shallow to tell her she would always be my Love, my Baby, even when when she was BIG.

First of the Lasts

Yesterday, for the first time, the realization that she is leaving friends that she has known since infancy behind for new adventure. With reassurances that since their mama’s were friends, they would of course still see each other, her panic was short lived.

For me, it was one long, ongoing battle. There was lots of tears.

Today is the first of the lasts.

I have drove to work with two children in my car for the last time.

*****

I entered with her for the last time.

I unpacked her for the last time.

I signed her in for the last time.

I asked for my push out the door for the last time.

*****

I packed her up for the last time.

I collected her things for the last time.

I signed her out for the last time.

I exited with her for the last time.

*****

I left work with two children in my car for the last time.

Upon her departure there were heartfelt hugs and gifts. A box covered with glitter and filled with love. Drawings, messages, feelings. When we got home, she carefully went through the box picture by picture, giving each a hug and declarations of friendship.

The countdown calendar still says three days until her starts her new school. I think we planned it wrong. I think today should have said zero yesterday. To me, that was the benchmark. The Last.

The last picture of Grace with her class

Pulse Points

I stood there, eyes fixed and willing myself not to let them mist.

She let go of my hand within 5 minutes of stepping into the room, welcomed into the classroom and enticed by the scent of strawberries.

The educational philosophy centers on stimulation and independence. Teaching kids through engagement and creativity.

They handed her a knife.

Grace cooks with me often. I let her stand next to me by the stove and stir bubbling pots. I have never given her a knife though. I guess they knew something that I couldn't see.

I stayed as far back as I could, but watched her closely. She handled it deftly.

She found a container full of tadpoles. She knew what they were without any help. (How does she know what a tadpole looks like?) She explained to the teacher the transformation they would go though. The teacher seemed impressed and told her to feel free to explore anything she was interested in.

She played with puzzles, found fire ants digging tunnels through gel, watched as another teacher transferred the baby chickens into a shaded coop.

She washed hands when instructed to and feasted on her share of the cut strawberries, mint and a sprinkle of sugar she helped prepare.

This change will be hardest on me. Watching my child prove first hand that my baby is no longer a baby. She will thrive in this environment. Without me. Without my vertical 100 yard proximity.

Grace will soon be a Montessori girl and everything I have come to know and depend on will change. This will be good for her. Good for us.

But, ugh, how I hate change.

Perceptions

With a sly grin, Matt announced last night that he was going to be interviewed by a local online sports magazine about triathlons. And he’s been asked to come to the interview wearing athletic wear.

While I still haven’t gotten over my gut reaction of snickering, and I don’t think I actually have, not out loud anyway, I know how much this means to him. For an outsider to recognize his accomplishments.

I know I have said this over and over again in this blog, but he has worked hard for this. He runs when the weather is cold and rainy. He goes to the gym before work or during lunch. I am proud of him.

People who haven’t seen Matt in awhile tend to not recognize him or freak out due to his weight loss over the last two years. I get the people who go on and on because it is an amazing accomplishment, but I am frustrated and angered by the people who somehow see it as a negative.

Let’s look at this handy little chart.


Do you see the fat guy in the red section? That was Matt at the start of all this. Now go down to the green guy. That is Matt today. How is this a problem?

Now that Matt is getting ready to do the Marine Corps Marathon again this weekend, people outside of our everyday are chiming up again. Sure, there are sometimes deaths at marathons and other hard-core sporting events. But they are explainable, they are catastrophic, the same end result would have happened no matter what. Sure, they might have had another few years before having an aneurism or heart attack, but isn’t it better to drop dead running instead of behind the wheel?

And you know what? Matt has had physicals and EKG’s done. He is in good health and the exercise only enhances that. Of course I would be beside myself if something did happen to Matt, but I could also spend my days worrying about car wrecks and government employees too.

So this Sunday Matt runs his third 26.2 mile run. Sure I worry, but not about his ability to do come home.

He has proven he can do this through all his hard work and dedication.

Face

I need to update my lists of noises and words and even sentences and songs now that Gracie can run though, but the solid favorite is face. Face.

In an intelligent, no longer a baby and just staring but a toddler taking every detail in sort of way, she is fascinated with faces. Particularly mine and Matt's. Last summer she screamed when either of us would put on sunglasses. It makes sense, a huge chunk of your face disappears in the dim of tint. Matt and I also both wear glasses, but those are an institution on our face. Face. Part of us. So as soon as she could grab, glasses were target #1.

Needless to say, the stems of my glasses had been snapped off several times and then meticulous glued back on. Two weeks ago, the glasses met their final match and lost. There was way to much superglue build up on the connection points to function any more. It just wouldn't adhere no matter how many times I tried. I wore my contacts to work for a week, but was miserable in the dry, dusty air. Then I switched back to the broken glasses, with a very Urkel like amount of black electrical tape on the left stem as it was the only thing that would both adhere and bend.

New glasses is a big deal. Face man, face. Glasses become a part of you, like skin and hair. They make or break you face. After a long arduous journey and the sampling of hundreds of styles, these are my picks.

OK, these look brown in the photo, but are actually a purple/reddish/brown, like red wine. Oh, fittingly that is the color name. Red wine.

These, are my beloved nerdy, tortoise shell glasses. When the salesman told me I looked like a librarian in them (in an attempt to talk me out of them I think) I was sold.

I just hope Gracie approves of my selections.