More Reasons Why I'm Penniless

Because he found something he loves: Swim Team.

 

Nervous before his State Competition.

The Launch

Fourth in the State in 50 free

10th in the State in Butterfly

My Favorite 10 Year Old and Why I Can't Take the Credit

Denver's selfie with his first ever STATE medal.
Third place in the mixed Freestyle Relay.
And just for the record, 4th in 50 freestyle,
5th in the mixed medley relay,
and 10th in the state in butterfly.  Wowza!
 

Denver and his relay team.

Denver took this picture on the morning of his state swim meet.
"Buddy, I haven't even had my coffee yet.  I know I look terrible."
"In real life, Yes.  But you always somehow look good in pictures!"

Denver was and is our surprise child.  We were surprised to discover his impending arrival, and he has continued to surprise us for nearly eleven years.

Unlike his brothers and me, Denver doesn't enjoy reading, museums, or being quiet.  He prefers action, loud noises, and being the center of attention.  He LOVES being with people, and in the last year, he has grown to love swim team-- where he gets to spend hours (and hours and hours) hanging out with his buddies, cheering for them, and competing with them.  

Of course, anyone who knows our family knows that Denver is similar to my husband.  In fact, John calls Denver his "Mini Me."  And it is nearly true.  Watching this boy struggle to live with me gives me insight into my husband's similar struggles.  Like Denver, John does not think spending time reading books in the same room is "together" time.  Likewise, Denver and John resent being left home while I'm off on a six hour bike ride. 

Luckily, we love each other enough to seek common ground.   John and I cycle together regularly now.  Denver and I have bonded over swimming and triathlon.  We train together and talk about gear and race strategy.  Now I must finish this post because Denver is excited about going to the YMCA to train in the gym.  He wants company-- of course. 

One of many of Denver's Race Tattoos 

  

Summer Flying By . . .

Spencer driving Alice, his great grandfather's beloved tractor.

First Place in his Age Group!

Summer is flying by, much like Denver in the midst of his latest triathlon.

I think about writing blog posts, keeping track of our family's experiences, and then I turn around and six weeks have passed without my seeming to do anything other than wash clothes and dishes, and feed the dogs.

The pool is a fun place for us-- as always!

We have just returned from another wonderful trip to my parents' home in Missouri. Spencer celebrated his birthday there, we saw family and friends, we rode bicycles, we went to a Cardinals baseball game, the boys shot guns with their dad and Papa Dale. We hiked and climbed at Elephant Rocks.  Denver and I even ran a race at my old high school with cousins Breanna, Hannah, Uncle Rob and Aunt Melissa. 

Help from Dadders
Note: Denver's insistence on wearing
a cowboy hat!

Pregame Dinner with Nana and Papa Dale, Uncle Rob,
Aunt Melissa, Hannah and Breanna.

Busch Stadium 

Denver stuck close to Uncle Rob
and learned a LOT about baseball!

Jibby and Spencer at the game.

This trip was different primarily because for the first time, my dad was less active.  The day before our flight to Missouri, my dad was the victim of a distracted driver.  She drove into him head-on while he saw her coming and tried to slam on the brakes and pull to the side of the road before the impact.  Luckily, though his truck was totaled, his body survived with only deep bruising and temporary (we hope!) damage to his back, foot, and hand.  She was not so lucky, and had to be air lifted to a St. Louis hospital.  We don't know if she survived. 

For us, the sadness was not having Papa Dale with us on our hikes and bike rides.  He is usually the leader of nearly endless activities.  It was strange to see him sitting so much and walking so slowly.  Of course, it could have been much worse.  I cannot tell you how happy I was to hug him when I first saw him limping toward us at the airport!



Now we are home from our wonderful trip, and we have explored Fernbank's new exhibit on Mastodons.  John Robert is busy with friends and work.  John is preparing to leave on a work trip, I am training for my Ironman, Denver is prepping for his two remaining swim meets, and Spencer is working on his WWII models and helping Paw Paw and Dadders with mowing and leafblowing.  Our summer flies by like the grass clippings....  simple, fleeting, fragrant.

A little hike with Denver in Missouri.

Enjoying a little silliness at Fernbank's latest exhibit.

Where did our baby go?

Three years ago.

Kayaking on the Yellow River
over Spring Break.

National Honor Society Induction

John Robert is the big brother, our first born son, and the first grandchild born into our family.  He has long been the center of attention-- the first baby to walk, first to read, and now the first to drive and earn his own income!

He has always been the observer and peacemaker in our family; slow to anger, quick to help.  He was the child upon whom John and I honed our parenting skills-- for better or worse.  We adored him from the moment we first saw his squished little red face, and we still do.

Even if he weren't handsome, charming, intelligent, and athletic, I'm sure he would still feel the weight of his family's attention; he would still tire of the stories we tell of John Robert as infant, John Robert as toddler.

Special Awards in EVERY class, as well as many
extracurricular activities.

At age 16, John Robert would prefer to be largely ignored except for hugs and hamburgers.  We have talked enough that I know he feels a nearly unbearable pressure not to fail any of us. He believes (and we disagree about this) that great things are expected of him.  Maybe he is right.  

This handsome child has grown up before my eyes and become a young man I admire and trust.  He is intelligent, curious, and fun to talk to.  He is patient to a fault, and puts up with all of his family's failings and annoying (charming?) eccentricities.

It is almost too much for this Momma to bear as I watch him hopping into the car with friends and driving away; as I watch him driving away-- to work at his first job.  A lifeguard.  Tears arise.  It feels like my hardest work with him is almost done.  The little boy who used to run up to other children and say, "Hi.  I Juh-Jobber.  Do you like dinosaurs or trains?"  That little boy is gone.  The grief rests just beneath my joy.    

Acknowledged by the Board of Education
for his Swim Team accomplishments.

 

Strawberry Memories

When I was a child, my family went to the local strawberry and apple orchard once a year and picked enormous quantities of strawberries.  We would take them home in cardboard flats, eating them by the handful as we went.  Then, my grandmother and mother would shoo me out of the kitchen while they spent hours making strawberry jam that would last all winter.  

Enjoying a strawberry slushie after a grueling
30 minutes of strawberry picking!

Forty years later, I don't make jam; but the boys and I do enjoy strawberries.  This week, on a sunny warm day, Spencer, Denver, and I went to Mitcham Farms to fill our buckets.  
As we picked, I couldn't help noticing all the young mothers with their young children toddling about and enjoying the sunshine.  My sons, 13 and 10, tall and strong, didn't have to be told not to squish the plants. They didn't have to be encouraged to put a few more strawberries in their buckets.  Those days have passed.  The boys and I chatted and worked as a cheerful team. 

Within 30 minutes, we had loaded buckets and were happily sipping strawberry slushies in the shade while tired toddlers and their mothers and grandmothers were still searching for berries or had given up and headed for the car.

And yet . . . I miss my own grandmother and the memories of my children as toddlers.  Those memories are sweeter than these strawberries: my grandmother serving us cold strawberry jam on warm toast in the winter; my own children eating strawberries straight from the plant while sitting, tired and hot, in the strawberry field.  

Diving In

Gazing out from the starting blocks before the 50 Freestyle finals.

Last fall, Denver joined the Walton Waves swim team with his big brother.  His goal was to improve his swimming skills for triathlon. I expected him to last a month.  He has a history of impassioned zeal for whatever is new-- and this zeal usually lasts no longer than 48 hours!

A Display of Good Sportsmanship at the end of the race.

The Launch

To my surprise and delight, Denver has become a devoted swimmer; and most recently, he had his first really successful big meet at UGA in Athens where he placed in the top ten in five events!  But this is not the best part of Denver's devotion.  

The most amazing change in Denver's life has to be the connection to his coach and teammates.  Always a social person, Denver leaps out of the car for swimming and is immediately surrounded by high fives from the boys and "Hi Denver!" from everyone.  His coach is delighted by his hard work and enthusiasm.  When we attended his last big meet, he left me at the door of the building with a smile and a wave, and merged into his group of pals.  I didn't see him again until he was at the starting blocks for his first event.  

Every child is different, with his own needs and interests.  As a parent, it is a tremendous joy to watch a child find a passion that makes his heart sing and his world widen.  Swim team is that gift for Denver at this moment. 

Buddies at a January meet in Madison, GA.

Hercules Pose

Learning how to leap from starting blocks
with the help of John Robert

First Place in his Heat by One Second.

Hiking Homeschool

My kind of Cathedral.

On the Move!

Under towering trees and a canopy of colored leaves, we hiked on the newest Charlie Elliott trail today.  I thought we needed to keep a sharp eye out for trail markers-- the trail was nearly invisible due to the confetti of fallen leaves.

While I spent my time appreciating the fresh air and beauty of the forest, Denver and Spencer ran circles around, in front of, and behind me-- involved in an all consuming battle with invisible enemies.

I didn't know whether to laugh or shout when Denver refused to stay within sight, or even near the trails.  He insisted that he could tell where the trail was going, and that he need not concern himself with the trail markers or my continual reminders.  

Spencer on the move.

The funny part is-- he was right about the direction of the trail every time!  Darn him for being so much like his daddy!

After a full morning of fresh air, blue herons, and observations, we made it back home for grilled cheese sandwiches.

My kind of school day.

The only time they sat down during the whole hike.

Denver dashes for cover from the
imaginary enemy.

Colored leaves affecting light like stained glass.