When I was a kid and we would spend the day at the beach (I use the term “beach” loosely. Log Lake was more of the sandpit/mud hole variety) but there was nothing better than coming home and slipping on warm jeans and a sweatshirt. This used to frustrate my mother to no end. The weather was warm, the sun was beautiful, and we had no air conditioning. She just didn’t get why I wanted to throw on a cold-weather outfit on such a beautiful summer afternoon. I don’t know either, but nothing has changed. Driving back from Cocoa Beach Sunday night I was dreaming of my tie dyed yoga pants and grungy college T-shirt as Marco slept through co-pilot duties and the girls watched Saved by the Bell in the backseat. Thank you God for Saved by the Bell.
This past weekend was nothing short of our usual Cocoa Beach experience, save two new adventures. We found a charming little (local!) ice cream parlor called Rose’s Island Ice Cream and the girls got to surf on REAL surfboards. Cowabonga baby.
The ice cream parlor was a little treat we don’t normally indulge in, but it was so stinking hot outside and ice cream sounded soooo good. So I splurged (: The girls, of course, were ecstatic. And as it turns out, Rose’s is not just an ice cream mecca, but also a vintage arcade of sorts with — get this — 25cent games! Marco loved introducing the girls to the old sega and pac-man games. I was more fond of the wooden basket ball shooter. Rose herself was not there, but our ice cream scooper was ball-o-energy. He was wearing a birthday hat (complete with under-chin elastic string) because “it’s somebody’s birthday somewhere!” Gotta love the enthusiasm.
Instead of putting a ton of money into Daniela’s surf board up front, we decided to rent one first. Good decision. I was nervous about it (especially considering the “ruin her face” comment), but the girls did phenomenally well! Marco is so good with them; it’s understood that before they paddle their little booties out to the big waves, a series of things must come first: a jog up and down the beach, stretches to loosen the muscles, inspection of the boards, and safety protocol. Always. God, I love that man.
I couldn’t help but realize how small Daniela looked lugging a 7 foot surf board down to the water. It calmed my heart; she’s still my little one. Regardless of starting 5th grade in a few days, she is still my little one. Le sigh.
By the end of the weekend, both of the girls were able to stand up on the board and really surf! I snapped a fantastic picture of Daniela really surfing on my phone, but the quality was really crappy to upload here. Check it out on instagram. The girls really persevered through sore arms and sand-burned knees and lungs full of salt water. They were real troopers and I couldn’t be more proud of them –though to be fair, the people around me probably thought I was a nutcase with all of the cheering and yelling I was doing. I’m that mom. shiver.
I’ve gotten to the point in consistent writing where I really ache when I can’t find the time to sit down and spill my thoughts. This week has been that week. I’ve been trying to write since Sunday night and it’s now Wednesday evening. It’s a balm on my soul to fill the page. I have a handful of essays half written in my head that I’m itching to get out on paper. One is on the topic of calling out the greatness in people and my head is swimming with all the thoughts God is showing me. Love that! Since Daniela goes to her moms this weekend I should have more time to write.
All signs are pointing to summertime really ending and I’m quite a bit sad to send Daniela off to school. I’ll miss all the daytime activities with her. I know a lot of moms who are excited and counting down the days, but maybe that’s a special blessing that comes with having your kids home only half the week. Or maybe it’s because I only have one kid and, quite frankly, she’s an angel child. But the school supplies have been bought, the uniforms have been fitted, the last Cocoa Beach trip is cleaned up and folded away. Summertime is my favorite, and it will be missed. The good news is, even in this Florida sunshine, I can sport my yoga pants without my mom fussing at me.