The Smell of Chlorine

I would be lying if I said I didn't love, love, love that one of the ways we spend our days is at or around the pool. If I wasn't so focused on my two year-old's insistent independence (and my fear of her not ready to be so independent) in the water I would be reminiscing over the literally thousands of lifetime memories that are associated with that all so distinct smell of chlorine. Memories of my dad taking a whole spring break at the beach to teach me how to do a flip turn, crawling into my parent's bed one Saturday morning asking if I could join the swim team like my older sister, reading my name in print on a crisp white sheet of paper stating I had indeed made the high school team, working with my best friends as lifeguards at a pool I believe to this day to be one of the best around, teaching swim lessons, watching my future husband swim his last college race , the list could go on and on. Although this list is grand and distinguished it doesn't hold a candle to watching my girls make their own memories at the pool. How their faces light up when I ask after our morning chores are done ( just the way my mom did) if they want to go to the pool, watching them make new friends, my older one trying to "surf" on her kickboard, my youngest trying on her bubble floatie for the first time (didn't last too long, 'too tight on belly, mama'), my girls watching their daddy in amazement as he disappears under the water for what seems to them an eternity only to come up magically at the other end of the pool, or, M's head bobbing up and down as she gets breastroke for the first time. Swimming is just such a lifetime sport and not just for the total body workout it provides. It is true that swimming is in my girls blood (as a friend recently pointed out to me), but more so, hopefully, it will be in their memories too. Long after the chlorine scent has left their skin, and the swim suit lines are gone, their legacy as third generation swimmers (and the fun they had in the water) will somehow keep them connected to their parents and grandparents.

Hunting for Treasure

Lucky for us we live on a dead end street. Dead end really gives a false sense of reality though because at the end of our road is really where everything begins. My fearless husband and oldest were the first to traverse this unknown land a few years ago, coming upon a stream (housing gar fish and nutria), trails, snakes, and the occasional egret. They soon shared their secret with the baby and I when the baby was old enough to start exploring no man's land. Last year, though, we came upon the best kept secret hidden among thorns and overgrown weeds; blackberries. Like little jewels just waiting to be plucked, these little morsels of goodness had to have been left especially for our family from angels, or so we like to think. Last year our blackberries grew on the edge of a sloping hill leading to the stream, and also on the slope. The girls and I would pick on level land, while DG ventured down the hill (as most overgrown boys would do). This year we checked on our blackberries weekly, and with a new keen eye for blackberry bushes even began noticing more bushes around our town (M referring to one road not as its traditional name, but as "Blackberry Valley" for all of the treasure it held on its banks). Finally we thought we had come to our first day of picking, and, in long pants (so to avoid the poison ivy), bug spray, and bins, we were on our way. As we approached the stream we saw that our neighborhood's landscapers had trimmed down the level land before the sloping hill leading to the stream to make way for more trails (didn't they know these were our berries?). I had visions of only my husband making the trek down the overgrown slope in search of treasure, but I should have known better. Daughters trust their Daddys, even on sloping hills. Off my oldest went, while the two year-old and I found a shade tree to sit under. The scene that unfolded before us was something that a picture wouldn't do justice. They were both close enough that K and I could see them, but far enough away that I felt like I was peaking in on what I know someday will be just a distant memory of a day that went by too fast.

Bath Time!

Our whole family loves the water; the pool, the ocean, "the lake," and the bath is no exception. Bath time is never rushed in our home. When we just had one child, she would play (as seen in the picture above) while I would sit on the edge and read my latest novel, not minding the few water marks that were sure to end up on my book. When the second baby girl came along, bath time turned more into double duty time. When K was still too little to bathe with her sister, I would put K in her exersaucer or bouncy seat and would have a moment to really visit with M and catch up on her day, and maybe even include a quick lesson on categorizing using bath toys. The next chapter of bath time came when the baby was old enough to bathe with M, and M couldn't wait a second longer for it. This time was filled with giggles, bubbles, and barbies.

Now we are in the next chapter of our household bath time. My oldest sometimes still wants to take a bath with the little one (who at 2 isn't as little as she used to be), but mostly wants to take a shower in mommy and daddy's shower. So, K's bath time is the double duty time. While K is playing with her toys, making her Barbie's expert divers, and using foam letters to spell her own words, M has tasks all her own. We sometimes do workbook pages ( I don't homeschool, I'm not that good, but I do supplement where I can), or, she'll go on a hunt around the house for new words. It is really a special time for both girls. K isn't old enough to bathe alone, so I am not called away from her attention for the million other things on my list for the day, and for M, K can't put her own drawings on work M has been working hard on.

I have to say though that my favorite part of bath time (as of late) is toward the end. The Barbie's are taking a break from their springboard practice, and M has hunted all of the new words she can. Usually about this time both girls are ready for a couple of songs (which of course always do sound better in the bathroom). Itsy Bitsy Spider, Twinkle Twinkle, and Hickory Dickory Dock (by the way we went up to the clock striking thirty the other night with our own rhyming words) fill our bathroom, and, for just a moment, all seems right with the world, even if there are a few watermarks sprinkled here and there.

The Very Best Baking Team

I am by no stretch of the imagination a talented cook. Yes, I can pull a meal together for guests, but do I enjoy cooking? At this point I'm not sure. I know as a stay home mom it is part of my job description, but I can think of several other things I would rather be doing than cooking. I do, though, like to bake (different than cooking as my wise mother- in- law pointed out to me once). Maybe it has something to do with chocolate, licking the batter, or the smells, but recently I think my love for baking has a lot more to do with the support staff I have been given in the last five years. My older girl has loved to help in the kitchen since she was big enough that her eyes could peak over the counter's edge, and now that my youngest is just about that age, the story is no different. The two of them together could play restaurant, iron chef (yes, iron chef), and grocery store everyday, but when I say the magical words referring to baking or they hear the mixer going, all bets are off and they are lugging their chairs/stools to get a better look, help, and of course, sample the goods. Obviously baking with your child is not just fun and games (although they don't have to know that). Lessons in measurement, science, and reading coincide with all of that chocolate goodness beautifully.

I don't know whether my children will grow to be chefs or bakers, or both, but I do know that when they make their own cookies in their own house there will not be a doubt as to where their first memories of those smells, tastes of batter, and flour spills came from.

The Great Outdoors

Oh how I love our outside playtime. My oldest would spend every waking moment outside if I would let her and my youngest would until she got hungry, thirsty, or hot. My outside time with my girls is cherished because of the adventures we have, the vitamin D I get, and the lovely break of routine that comes within the walls of our home. I don't want you to think that we live on acres and acres of land with oodles of swing sets, balls, and other toys at my girls disposal (this is the farthest thing from the truth), but there is something so magical about what lies outside our front door.

On any given day my girls will catch ladybugs, butterflies, or something unidentifiable (which can make me a little nervous) and put them in their "habitat" ( a netted enclosure M got for a birthday gift last year). Outside time also usually involves sidewalk chalk. My oldest had designed grocery stores, towns, drawn still life's of plants and flowers in our yard, while my youngest investigates different colors and begins her life as an artist. Other favorites of my girls involve riding bikes around the driveway and front walk while pretending they are going to the church or doctor's office, and of course involves someone directing traffic. One must do every other day (unless it rains) is watering our gardens. The girls each have a watering bucket that I fill up for them numerous times and they help me water. Because of the hot climate of where we live it is no problem if by chance they feel like they themselves need a little watering too and it just adds to the fun and keeps us cool.

I try and spend at least an hour a day with my girls outside and the beauty of it is that it is for the most part it is free fun, so educational, and getting sun kissed isn't half bad either :)