Water Mamas

We graduated the twins from second grade and were off to St. Augustine to celebrate their 8th birthday. They got there before Megan, her kids, and I did. And sometime in the grocery shopping and settling in, this photo was taken:

Positively glorious. But as bedtime approached, Miranda had desperately bad news. And I consoled her into the wee hours as she began the stages of mourning, and also averted a near disaster. Thankfully, when the girls travel together, mornings are a slow rise. But Megan, bless her, was already upstairs from her slumber in the bunkroom with the all the kids, and making breakfast. She had stayed off making coffee because she and their friend, Lauren, were afraid it wouldn't be to my liking. I say make it strong, and the rest can be adjusted. Once everyone was properly caffeinated, we packed our lunches and set out with wagons and carts down the quarter of a mile to the beach. The only things I really remember about that day were these surprise photos:

and the feeling of abandonment, sheer abandonment, to be on the beach, no men in sight to worry over this flaw or that. I see why women go on "girls' trips" but not for the customary reasons of no accountability, only for the freedom to just be a girl, not that I ever will be again or even want to be, but to be playful and lighthearted. Somehow, I wound up in the water with our 4 year-old grandgirl who already looks the part of a surfer and with her floaties on, was ready to find some waves. I got down to her level as we waited to see which ones were "grandma crashers" and would bowl me over. Oh, and I remember taking calls from Madalynn, who is herself away working for the summer at the beach, and from Macklynn. Neither had remembered I was in Florida. I stood from reclining on the porch couch to this scene, the cousin birthday party, short one member (whose own mother was a beach lifeguard herself), ensuing:

Wednesday morning, we didn't know it but had pushed Megan's good graces a bit too far when we sat on the porch drinking coffee (which they waited again on me to make) and left her inside with the kids. I'm glad we stayed out just long enough though because Lauren and I finally got to have a real conversation. She's a Guardiad ad Litem, as is my friend, Jennifer. And something gave way to a conversation about my application and qualification to become a host parent to the local children's home. I was explaining that since then I had all my procedures and surgeries (spanning two years) and just hadn't pursued it anymore. Meanwhile, McKala's wheels were turning, and she said she would make a designated appointment at her salon that I could bring a child to. So, we'll see where this goes. It was Wednesday, I think, when McKala walked up and bear hugged my shoulders from behind. She and I, we're all business otherwise when she leaves the twins Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, every other Friday (as well as every other Saturday during wedding season) mornings. This trip, like the "glamping" one last summer to The Ark, is for teacher appreciation, a perk of sorts, as are the dress she bought me for Michael's rehearsal dinner, any hair supplies or cuts, and any tickets to anything we go to and food while we're there. Lunches and green teas, with vitamin C, packed and quercitin and zinc taken (to fend off the crud Megan and her two brought with them), we set off again to sun, toss the ball, and enjoy the waves. Toward the end, the twins enticed me to use a body board. Alas, it was for children. But they did not forget me the next day! In the meantime, we gussied up a little, took some pictures, and ate out that night for the first time.

Lauren's family frequents that area and suggested we go to where I had my first ever grit cake topped with all manner of things including jerk pulled pork. Believe you me, I ate every bite.

I conked out that night and woke Thursday morning to one of the, if not the, best messages I ever got. As I was sleeping soundly, she had sent, "When I was a little girl I loved sleeping with you... It's very comforting sleeping next to you when my heart is broken. I'm glad you're here." I don't know it was that message or the clear day, but that morning on the beach I noticed in a magnified degree the sparkling water, the fishing boat with dolphins trailing, fishermen all along the shore, cyclists going by. And as I situated myself under one of the four umbrellas, McKala saw a Naval ship on the horizon and mentioned the feeling of safety it made her have. After I had my fill of sunshine, I strolled into the water where the twins were body boarding already. I said, "Ahh, I forgot to get one," when they pointed to the sand and said, "We brought you one!" I wasn't at all sure what to do at first, so I watched them to see if they had any success. After about an hour, I figured out when to get on the wave. While just the two of us were within earshot of each other, Abby shouted something like, "You're a real grandma, out here doing this with us!" Again, thanks to McKala was I able to at all. She found a cardio drumming class online this spring and knowing I'd been interested for years but still very limited in activity and confidence, barely over my pelvic organ reconstructive surgery last summer, encouraged me to join. So, I did. Big G decided she had to get in on the fun. I'm glad that since I'd left my phone at the rental, to be present, that someone documented me in photos. I don't know if there have ever been so many of me. I was always the photographer or the dodger of the photographer.

Once more we cleaned up and went out, this time to where I tried a grit cake a second time as part of the previously suggested entree, Chicken Jolie Blonde. It was excellent but quite different from the first one. Thankfully, Miranda thought to let me out at the door where a man kindly told me to go give them my name, else I'd probably still be standing there, having been taken care of most of my life, which is just what I told him when I thanked him. The storm had just broken, and I risked getting two tables outside for the nine of us rather than wait 45 minutes for the inside. The weary walkers were relieved to be seated immediately. We enjoyed the tolerable temperature in the lush greenery with live music and even encoutered the rescue of a baby bird who was displaced by the rain and wind, alleviating Abby's distress over the poor thing. Afterwards, we walked straight across the street for a carriage ride. I suppose it was for the kids but is part of the touristy things I don't like, which is why I have often been quoted saying I don't like the beach. This trip was different, though. I was being Michelle, still Mama and Mamachelle, but not on duty (except helping to keep little G from escaping the beach house) as I was in years past. Friday morning, I finally woke before anyone else and with my own coffee pot finally in place, made mine but couldn't go without making theirs, also. I had finally found a relaxed pace, but the girls were picking up theirs. They had everything packed, trash taken to the road, and washing machine and dishwasher running, all before I finished cleaning out the refrigerator. They had even packed some of my things for me and had my suitcase in the car. The mamas couldn't leave without having a home school field trip, so we wound up at the fort. Big G got in some picture taking while scaring me nearly to death as she ducked in between these pillars to get a shot.

The heat sent us back to our cars and on the way home to North Carolina. Megan had been talking about Savannah the whole week, and as it so happened traffic was backed up to the exit for Savannah. In no time flat, there we were parked right near River Street. What I hadn't anticipated was these kind of stops on our trek back, so I had on no less than compression socks, genie pants, a $2 T-shirt from Roses, tennis shoes, and glasses, in essence traveling gear, while lots of women walking up and down were dressed to the nines. It made me wonder what I'm even supposed to be wearing in this new era of mine. I've had to change what kind of bra I wear, and even what kind of pants, socks, and shoes in efforts not to reexacerbate the pelvic problems or viens I've had repaired and the tendon they had to cut to correct my hammer toe. These aren't even including the marble-sized cyst I had cut out of a tonsil and the three procedures to stretch the top of my throat because of an unexplained stricture. Honestly, thank God for modern medicine, or I would've been stuck at home rather than venturing out with my crew. And that's what Mike was, stuck at home. He had been in the hospital a whole weekend after a vascular appointment to check his aortic graft and the three aneurysms that are developing. Ironically, the hospital stay had nothing to do with these things but rather his blood pressure and oxygen levels upon arriving. We were already at Baptist where they promptly got him a wheelchair and sent him to the ED where they could not get his blood pressure, at 208/130 at one point, under control. They admitted him and convinced it was an asthma episode combined with unmanaged nerve pain, finally sent him home after two days. It was hard for me to believe that's all it was, so I insisted his cardiologist do a heart catheterization to clear the existense of any blockages, and that's just what it did. The doctor reported that he had "pristine" vessels in his heart. Unfortunately for Mike, neither of us thought about the puncture that was made and that he couldn't submerge himself in water for 5-7 days, which bumped him from the trip. He was still holding out hope, but Sunday the pressure went back up to 190/130. Our son-in-law had to stay home and work and said he'd be on call for him. Instead they went to the gun store, to the theater, and out to the yard shooting, all because Mike got his new meds balanced, and he rested, prayed, ate minimally and cleanly, fed the animals, watered the plants, and had decided by the time I got home that we would walk and also read the Bible together every morning! What he didn't know is that as I was walking to the garden one day last month, I told God straight-up that I didn't think I deserved how he was treating me. Now, there are times I deserved it, even if it was because of secret/unconfessed sin, albeit only in thought many times. So, as I was on that twelve hour, stopping many times, one after I dumped over a potty chair looking for a toy, trip home, Mike was anticipating my return with a clean house and a renewed sense of moving forward. Poor Megan, who helped me raise her siblings, I think I was more harm than help to her on the trip. When Little G would scream, I packed his dinosaur toy's mouth with food and tried to bite him with it. Thinking he would find some delight in my silliness, he only met it with more and flung food all over the car. After waking from one of my two naps, I told her this must be what it feels like on the way home from a bachelorette party. She looked at me and asked, "Have you ever been on a bachelorette trip?" I laughed and said, "No, but this has to be what it feels like afterwards!" Funny, it was, in fact, the longest day of the year, the summer solstice. He finally did some sleeping, and we were able to listen to David Jeremiah for a while, which wound us up on the subject of Jesus' brothers and their unbelief until the resurrection, which wound me up on a page listing these bullet points: "He loved them, but didn't cater to them. He wasn't controlled by family expectations. He prioritized His Father's will over family comfort." That last one, that's the one so many of us don't get and what people don't understand in me when I institute it. And in trying to answer her where David Jeremiah is from, I read that he knew God let him live through lymphoma years back, not to "go sit on a beach somewhere" but to spend the rest of his time serving Him, ironic not that I was trying to move to a beach or anything. Anyway, here I am sitting Sunday afternoon, having walked not one but two miles with Mike before church this morning. I'm back to my potassium salt, magnesium drink, and kefir (probiotic drink). If what they say about Vitamin D is true, I'm good 72 hours from Thursday afternoon, which puts me back out in the sun working the garden tomorrow afternoon, right when I need to be! It was an absolute deluge while we were gone. It began well before we left and is why I was unable to till. Michael's wedding is less than two weeks away. The flowers we planted are blooming. Don't think our pastor's wife and I haven't prayed for that. When I saw they were budding before we left, I purposefully and tearfully stepped back, looked to the sky, and thanked God that the blessing I hoped to give is coming just in time. Thankfully, our water mamas decided not to take their water babies to the river today, not that I had it in me to go anyway. They'll be found soon though at Aunt Cindy's pool or fishing at the lake or in the river with Mike. Miranda will start having dinner with us again in between her days on shift, but probably not too regularly before the wedding. It's all hands on deck, full speed ahead. Funny I ever entertained that I would have some kind of generic, uninvolved latter years. Megan said not long ago, "Mama, you didn't raise us like that."