Happy Place

The beach is my happy place. I adore the beach. And it is my greatest joy that my children love the beach as much as me. Collectively, we do not tire of the beach. They can beach it all the live long day, from morning to night and still beg and plead for just five more minutes to build a sandcastle, hop the waves or race across the sand.

So, you can imagine that we are all pretty happy to find out that my dear brother Seth and lovely sister in law Tennille bought a beach house.

Happy for THEM, of course. So very happy for them. But, selfishly, also just a little bit happy for us. Because then we have yet another beach destination to visit and it just happens to include some of our favorite people too.

We christened their beautiful beach house with an inaugural visit this July. Their house is amazing, open space full of light and views of water from every single window. It is surrounded by what feels like acres of decks, at all levels, looking out on the ocean or out onto the bay. It is perfection.

And we were so grateful to just be there. We spent each day soaking up all its beachy goodness. After a full day at the beach, we escaped to the bay side for some clam digging, crab chasing, and minnow wrangling. Each night, Seth and Tennille planned feasts from the grill, which Seth manned with skill worthy of Top Chef. We feasted, we drank wine and margaritas and we laughed a whole bunch.

We also took in beautiful sunsets from their rooftop deck and watched the boats glide by in the early morning light.

Our Happy Place.

Vocab Man

There was a small altercation at the pool yesterday. One of the kiddies, a three year old known as a bit of a hellion who likes to push and hit, set his sights on Griffin. It started with a few pushes here and there and each time, Griffin came back to me. I intervened, kept a careful eye on G until the little hellion went and found someone else to occupy his time.

I was on the other side of the pool when I heard a loud scream that I instantly recognized as Griffin's. Several kids come running to me at once yelling it was Griffin and he needed me. I race over to G and see Aidan racing after the little hellion who is attempting to escape to his mom. (Good choice child. You would not have been safe with me. Trust me.)

The hellion pushed Griffin and then clawed him up and down his stomach and chest. Griffin had a whole bunch of scratches, two that were fairly deep and bleeding. Griffin was crying hysterically and yelling, "It hurts. It hurts Mom!"

I was so angry that I was shaking. Before I could even think twice about it, I picked Griffin up and comforted him as I marched him over to the hellion's mother. The hellion was hiding behind her legs as Aidan gave an accounting of the incident to his mom. My jaw was clenched with anger. Later, Aidan told me that I looked like my head was going to explode. I barely managed to speak over my anger, but uttered, "Your son did this to my son. Look." I showed her the scratches and she gasped. I then continued, "He also has been pushing him all morning."

And then I walked away without saying another word. I walked back around the pool and sat down with friends who did kind things like fetch band aids and lollipops and talk me down from telling this hellion's mother that her kid needs to be institutionalized.

Griffin cried for a good fifteen minutes. I vented to my friend that I just don't understand how a three year old would do something like this. I can see some pushing or hitting now or then, particularly among a group of boys, but this, it was awful.

Griffin stopped crying, nodded his head and said, "You're right Mommy. He's only three. How could he do something so vicious?"

My friends erupted in laughter. Vicious indeed. Even after a mauling, my four year old remains the Vocab Man.

I had a few choice words I could have added to expand his vocabulary. But I managed to remember he is only four. But I thought them. I thought a whole lot of them.

Our Smiling Swimmer

To say that Griffin is thrilled to be on swim team would be an understatement. He is beyond thrilled. He is ecstatic that he is finally, in his eyes, rolling with the cool crowd, sporting speedos with goggles on his head. (Although last year before he was even on swim team, he was known to pretend he was on swim team by wearing his brother's hand me down speedos and yes, wearing his goggles on his head. He's a quick study that kid.)

Griffin competes in the heat we like to call the "controlled drowning" heat. It is the smallest and the cutest swimmers of them all, struggling not to win the race across the pool, but merely to survive all 25 yards of pool stretched out before them. The parents tend to cheer the loudest for this heat, even for the kids who are not their own, because these little swimmers show such spirit and tenacity, determined to make it through their length of the pool, even if they have to resort to doggie paddle to do it.

I love to see Griffin battle to finish his swim. He grunts through backstroke, struggling to lift his little arms up in the air, so he can keep going, oh so very slowly, down the pool. The pool cheers him on, telling him he can do it, as I always, inevitable race beside him on the side of the pool yelling words of encouragement. (Loudly. Very loudly. Aidan has reminded me repeatedly that I am so loud he can hear me cheering even when he is under water.)

Griffin also competes in a relay and a 25 yard freestyle. Tonight, after he did his faux dive, but really just a giant jump into the pool off the blocks and got started on his freestyle, the parents got their cheer on. Griffin must have heard me above the din of yelling voices, because he stopped his freestyle, looked up right at me and grinned the biggest, sweetest smile a mother ever could see.

My entire side of the pool erupted into gales of laughter. His coach howled with laughter and yelled, "Don't look at your mother! Swim! Swim!" Griffin grinned again and got back to his stroke.

The coach shook her head and said to me, "He is too cute for words." He is too cute for words, that sweet third boy of mine. My love of a little boy.

The Key Card Conundrum

My office was moved last year. My new floor requires a key card for access to the floor and for access to the bathrooms. I can never remember my key card, which also gets me into the building.

I have forgotten it so much that I now know all the security guards by name. They start whipping out the guest pass before I even can say good morning.

In addition to constantly forgetting the silly key card, I also haven't figured out what to do with it on my bathroom breaks. I tend to wear alot of skirts, particularly in the warmer weather, and most of my skirts do not have pockets. After much deliberation over this problem, I have solved my pocket-less conundrum with an easy solution! I store my key card in my bra.

Yes, I am a genius.

Or at least I thought I was a genius until I was stuck out in the hallway and had to make a grab for my key card in front of a few male partners. Then, I realized I am just not as smart as I think I am. Nope. Not at all.

Swim Team!

This past Thursday marked the first official swim meet of the season. Swim meets are crazy chaotic events, organized chaos at its best. (And I use the word organized in its loosest interpretation.) The boys were excited for the chance to compete, but Griffin was just excited to finally, finally (!) be an official member of the team. He was almost gleeful when he showed every one his event information written on his hand in permanent marker just like all the big kids.

The boys did really well at each event. Aidan swam so fast I told him I saw smoke coming up from his hands. He won both his heats and gave his relay team a nice lead during his stroke. Brennan swam four events and loved each and every one. Griffin rocked his first meet, doing admirably well as the newest and youngest member of the "controlled drowning" heat. I went from cheering Griffin on when he jumped into the pool without a second thought to swim a 25 yard backstroke to praying wildly that he would not drown about halfway down the pool. He didn't drown! And he finished his 25 yards backstroking his little arms as half the pool yelled and encouraged him to keep going even though every other child had finished their length about five minutes ago. My four year old! A backstroker!

But my favorite moment of the meet had to be watching my boys encourage each other other, root for each other and help each other. Each one of them was just as excited to swim as they were to watch their brothers swim. I saw Aidan walk over to Brennan before his first event, the backstroke, and explain to him how he had to get in the water and wait for the start. I watched Griffin yelling for each of his brothers. And I loved seeing Brennan walk up to Aidan, clap him on the back and tell him "good job." Their pride in each other fills me with absolute joy.