When I was very small I walked with my mother. This was before every family required 2 cars. We walked to the JCC, where my Catholic mother taught Jewish customs in my nursery school. Most days after school I took swimming lessons and played in the water while my mother swam a mile. It took her a really long time and so I became quite a good swimmer. Our skin was wrinkled when we toweled off. And the soap could not remove the lingering smell of chlorine.
Then we walked the mile and a half home. We used to pass an ugly little ranch style home, and I remember telling my mom that it was my favorite house in all the world. It was the brightest red paint that I had ever seen.
I am so anxious to move my body. The days are longer and the snow is melting and I want to walk again.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I'm sorry, I just can't resist. Mom Views is having a poncho giveaway. The ponchos at Skipping Hippos are painfully sweet. Check it out:
I don't spend $46 on myself let alone my 3 year old... but heck these are unique and handmade and just freaking adorable- and you might not be as tight fisted as I... but if you are, it's a giveaway! So, spread the word, enter the contest, and support a mom.
Posted by Meg at 12:44 PM
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Sunday, March 02, 2008
There is a small pond in a small town near a windmill on Cape Cod that defines vacation. Back when sand dunes were steep we drove from Eastham to Welfleet and hiked down to the ocean with all of the accoutrements necessary for a family of 9 and a few friends. We used that beach for hours. Walking, building, digging, swimming, riding, running, rolling, surfing, throwing, chasing, eating, searching, soaking, sleeping, reading, burning until dinnertime approached. Panting and sweating we dragged what we brought back up the mountain to the car, while our t-shirts scraped the sea salt into our sunburned shoulders.
We jostled down the long unpaved driveway to the pond, bursting from the car before it stopped and racing, racing to the water. Reaching the shore at full speed, diving without slowing into the cool pond, gliding until our bodies rose to the surface. A fresh water cleanse.
A sensation that is deeply a part of me.