The Skate on Grand rink at Fox Lake
I have a funny feeling around my calves and ankles and feet at lunchtime today - it makes me want to stretch and rise on my toes and wiggle them around.
The last time I felt this Mia and I were trying to "roller skate" at Fox Lake with the three Tallahassee girl cousins, which to Mia meant shuffling over to the Chuckie Cheezie-style games and to me meant flashing back to junior high mortification at the Shawnee Mission rink and feeling so tense about falling that my shins were tight. But as my floppy upper body stabilized and the YMCA/Chicken Dance/KC and the Sunshine Band music worked its silly worm into my head, I started to get the roll-bounce rhythm of it all - glide with the feet, bend the knees and boogie with the butt. And it was delicious.
So I'm thinking this leg thing might be...dare I think? Toe-curling happiness. Where does this come from?
A new Project Runway season?
Plans for a date night with Randy at OTOM?
It might be the satisfaction of writing and posting a quickie for the Chicago Moms Blog that to my surprise turned into a sort of defense for mosquitoes' lives, but mostly, I think it's Camp! Oh beautiful Park District Day Camp!
I dropped the girls off Monday for the first day and I felt the deep relief immediately. Silence. Calm.
During June we had some travel plans and other whatnot so I didn't sign the girls up for the first session. I did try to fill our days, I did. But it was tough. The mornings were bright and there were 40 minute swim lessons in the morning for two weeks but oh the long afternoons. Randy has been working late nights on a documentary, I was wiped by noon, Nora was cranky and Mia was raring to go - but not out of the house.
"Let's go to the beach!" I'd try. "NO!" like I'd deeply offended them. "We'd rather roll around on the sticky couch and kick each other."
Nora refused to ever nap, unless we had to drive somewhere. Twice she fell asleep at lunch with her lovely Kansas City cousins and had to be lugged (oh beautiful but weary burden) through Water Tower Place, to the beach, into the cab, down the escalator, then I turned around to find Mia still at the top of the escalator, wailing, afraid, with strangers. The dear cousins had forgotten to take her hand. Without thinking I call out, "My daughter!" and rush up the up escalator still carrying heavy Nora to kneel next to my sobbing forgotten daughter and try to console her. So tired.
June was beautiful, but hard. Now I have some space to breathe, to plan, to write. When I pick up my limp and weary girls at noon, I'm fresh and so so happy to see them. "How was camp? Tell me everything."