Chapter 15: Just Keep Swimming

There comes a point in every parent’s life, when they have to convince their kids to do something they do not want to do. For Eloise, it was swimming. Or more precisely, not drowning.

She comes by her need-for-control honestly. She’s apprehensive in new situations and hates to disappoint others. So I wasn’t too surprised when she just had to go to the bathroom 10 minutes into her 1st lesson. And 2nd. And 3rd. She would shuffle to the locker room, sit focused on the toilet, wash her hands as if preparing for surgery, and then saunter back to the pool just in time to say goodbye.

I asked her peppy swim instructor for advice and she chirped, “Just practice! If you build up her confidence, she won’t be so scared.” Obvious. And ingenious! We drove to Cindy’s “resort-style pool” for some practice disguised as playing. I told her we were going to play swimming lessons; she would be the teacher, Duke and I would be the victims/students. Eloise showed us how to swim and in the process, practiced her swimming.

With each visit to the pool her confidence grew, until one day she scolded me to get out of the water so she could swim across. By herself. Duke and I chanted “You can do it, you can do it, YOU CAN DO IT!” as she dog-paddled to the other side. I would like to say that she looked up at me, grinning, and thanked me for encouraging her to never give up. But instead she yelled, “I want to do it again!” And I was okay with that too.

Chapter 14: Have and Have Not

Memorial Day weekend we moved out of our Austin condo and into a Georgetown fixer-upper. With double the square footage, a big yard, and drum roll please… a garage – we thought we had made it. We had the concrete floors polished just weeks ahead of time, not realizing that when you grind/polish concrete, it creates a tsunami of concrete dust that leaches itself to anything it touches. We’re talking light fixtures, air vents, inside oven doors, EVERYWHERE.

So there we were, boxes and belongings unloaded from the truck, ready to settle in, when Chris informs me, “We can’t unpack until we get the concrete dust cleaned. And we can’t turn on the AC because it will just recirculate.” Ummm... excuse me?! It’s summer. In Texas. The state where we get cabin fever because it’s too hot to go outside.

But, mission accepted, we got it all cleaned. We tackled one room at a time, until four weeks later, we were done. I can’t deny that it was awful. We lived in a constant state of stickiness. We savored nights when it dipped to the high 70’s. And I learned to appreciate something I’ve always taken for granted. Living without can be one of the best experiences to live with.

Chapter 13: Don't Worry, Be

One of the best pieces of advice I got growing up was from my dad. It was during those awkward teenage (mutant) years that he said, “Don’t worry what others think of you.” I took it to heart and never looked back.

Duke, however, was born with this mantra. He exudes confidence and charisma, with a personality as big as his hair. So, for his 2nd birthday, we tossed out the pre-packaged toddler-themed parties and decided to go Disco. I figured what other toddler likes Disco music AND has a Soul Glo fro? Everyone was instructed to dress accordingly (although I’m still trying to figure out how high-water pants counts as costume, Dad), and we handed out moustaches and glow sticks.

Everything was imperfectly perfect. Who cares if we obviously-can’t-dance and I didn’t make enough cupcakes. I don’t know if I laughed more during the party or afterwards looking at the pictures. But I do know that my family is not normal. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Chapter 12: Sick No More

I used to get annoyed at how many prayer requests focused on people’s health. I would silently grumble about there being more to life that a distant relative’s hospital visit. But, when you’re faced with your own wellness threat, you realize that there is no more to life when you’re consumed with sickness. Things don’t go on as normal – you miss family reunions and preschool parties, playdates and work. All your attention is focused on getting better.

So when our pediatrician announced Eloise’s diagnosis, it was frightening. Pneumonia?! A bad cough and a little fever led to this? Chris and I would take turns in a panic, before harnessing the other back to an objective calm. We were instructed to keep an eye on her breathing at night and rush to the ER if it worsened. I prayed myself to sleep believing it would be fine by the morning. But Chris set his alarm every two hours to make sure she was okay.

I have never loved him more. Passing through the hallway, he said, “I would gladly give my life in exchange for hers.” And at the moment I knew he would. Without hesitation.

For Thanksgiving a few days later, we made a sign of things we were thankful for. I asked Eloise what she wanted me to write and she said, “Going to the doctor and getting better.” Indeed. It was a huge prayer request answered.

Chapter 11: Home Is

If you want to know who people want to be, look at their Facebook. If you want to know how people really are, stay in their home. It’s amazing how much of our identities are revealed in the habits we have and the houses we keep.

When both of my sisters moved to new towns last year, I knew that summer would be my best chance to visit. And with Chris unable to get off work, I asked my sister-in-law Brittany to roadtrip it with me. She graciously agreed.

We started at Nana and Papa’s house in Bucyrus, with their melting pot style – a mixture of treasures from foreign lands and a Midwest country charm. Then, we went to Uncle Eric and Aunt Amy’s house in Pratt, with their creative/tech style of art meets kids for a chaotic cozy feel. We ended at Uncle Jeremy and Aunt Laurie’s house in Elk City – a suburban style of modern Middle America with room to grow. Each home was as unique as the lives that filled it.

Traveling back to Austin, I felt a sense of closure – like I had finally made the connection to my sisters’ daily lives. It reminded me of a song called “If These Walls Could Speak” and it made me wonder what the walls of my home would say about me.

Chapter 10: [ho-tay-ul]

When Cindy first proposed the idea of booking a night at the Hyatt Lost Pines Resort, I was interested. Eloise, though, was ecstatic. Not because she had any experience with hotels, but because GranMama had planted daydreams of the experience in her head. Eloise talked endlessly of going to the “ho-tay-ul” – of swimming and horseback riding, of s’mores and slides.

Now in most instances, expectations surpass the reality. The anticipation is sweeter than the muddled moments. This was The Exception. We spent 30 hours squeezing in every activity and experience we could. The memory remains so bright in my mind that I know we could never recreate it. But we try…

For at least three months after our getaway, Eloise and I would weave bedtime stories around the hotel. She would include her cousins (the “grandbabies”) and Nana and Papa in her adventures. And each night we would cut out at the climax with the battle cry, “To be continued!!”

Chapter 9: Freeze Makes a Crowd

I hate cold weather. No amount of “layering” can make-up for the numbing chill that’s impossible to shake. So as I snuggled under the covers one icy night last January, I silently thanked God for a house with a strong heater. Eight hours later, I was not-so-silently cursing this same heater. It was dead. I was done. Chris spent the whole day tinkering on it. I thawed out at school, and Cindy took the kids to her house.

Since our refrigerated house was no place to stay, we decided to pile in with Cindy. I use “pile” in the most conservative way because we were literally on top of each other. Three adults, two kids, and two small horses dogs in 860 sq. feet of furniture. Suddenly the cold weather didn’t seem so bad.

People say that God must have a sense of humor, and after that week, I agree. We ended up staying with Cindy for three days until a friend fixed our heater. School was cancelled because of the weather, and Duke got his first taste of snow.
Was it cold and uncomfortable? Yes. But I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.