The summer started out great. I enrolled Camryn in swim lessons to prepare us both for pool and beach season, my absolute favorite season. At least it used to be.
I went into swim lessons like I go into most situations…delusional. It was the kind of swim lesson where I get to be in the pool with her…lucky me. I pictured me holding her and her relaxing on her back, doing her belly laugh and splashing her hands in the water, smiling that big smile of hers.
It would be more fun to take a rabid cat to swim lessons than to take her in a pool.
The heated just a notch off of freezing pool water snapped me quickly back into reality and what was actually probably about to take place. I’m not going to lie, I got nervous. When things go wrong with Camryn, it gets ugly. Too late to turn back now, we were both neck deep in cold water. Then, the swim instructor swam over with his long stupid hair and his stupid surfer accent and by the way, we live in Georgia so drop the act kid, and dumped a cup of water on her head. What the shit? (as my Spanish speaking mother in law would say) Camryn wasn’t even slightly amused and who can blame her? I am telling you what, if I had not been getting my eyes scratched out by the baby turned rabid animal literally climbing on top of my head that kid would have gotten a punch right to the neck! She nearly drown me! We didn’t recover. She didn’t calm down and I was bleeding. We went to a couple more swim lessons but I was done. I’m not physically fit enough to wrestle a crocodile in the pool. Plus, I never totally understood the logistics on how to get us both into dry clothes when we were both sopping wet, bleeding, and mad. I can’t tell you how many times I drove home still wet and in my bathing suit. Swim lessons were a bust.
Ever the optimist it was time for our second family beach trip! The beach: my happy place and now my hell on earth. The first time we took her to the beach she was 5 months old and it was great. Don’t get me wrong we screwed up plenty but she slept so much, it was magical! However, we have been awarded the title of the whitest people on Earth. I don’t mean we don’t have rhythm and can’t dance. I mean we are all a very special shade of translucent white. We took a tent with built in SPF, had her in a hat, sunscreen, shade upon shade upon shade.
Doesn’t she look divine napping on the beach?
Then we got inside and this is what she actually looked like. It's blurry but you may notice the white paci mark surrounded by burnt baby skin.:
Okay, but other than the horrible paci burn on her face and her not wanting to hang out in the water, it was a great time. See:
The second trip was different. She was starting to walk. We drove down to the beach all excited with a trunk full of beach toys. I couldn’t wait to build a little sand castle with her and dip her little feet in the water. This year was going to be different. Remember how I said I always go into situations delusional? We walked her down to the beach and I could feel her body tensing up. I don’t know if it was the loud ocean, the sand, or just seeing that amount of water that totally freaked her out but something did. Turns out it is all of the above. We eased her down to the beach and thought if she’ll just touch the sand she’ll LOVE it! Well friends, we may never know because this is what happened:
See? Never touching sand.
“Want to go in the water, Camy?” Was answered with a return of the rabid cat I took to swim lessons.
Once again, her sleeping and eating was magical. Apparently being terrified and pissed off really works up an appetite and makes you tired. We didn’t burn her but that is hard to do when you spend a majority of your time in a condo.
But we aren’t home free yet. We have one more beach trip planned. It’s not that we enjoy terrorizing her…even if the pictures I’m sharing say something else. We were going to Miami to meet up with Chris’ family from Uruguay. This trip had been planned since before summer started so it was happening and we were all going to have a really good time playing on the freaking beach, damnit. I talked to friends about this hatred of sand and some of them had experienced the same thing with their kids but they ALL said that their kids had outgrown it in a matter of months. They shared pictures of their kids who at the beginning of summer didn’t like sand and at the end of the summer were digging holes, eating sand, laying in sand pits, making sand angels. I was hopeful. Delusional. We get to Miami and guess what? Here is Camy living it up in the sand!
I don’t know how this kid can go to the beach and not ever get a single grain of sand on her. OH! It’s because this is how Camy does the beach: shoes, stepping on towels, stepping on me, sitting on my face, etc. So for a kid that doesn’t get sand on her this next situation is just ironic.
She got sand in her eye. In the hotel room.
Mother of all things holy, you have never heard screaming so loud and for so long! Chris and I were in a sweaty panic! We had no idea what to do (remember we lost common sense about 17 months ago). She wouldn’t open her eyes! She was screaming and turning several shades of red and purple (which actually doesn’t take much because we are so white but it makes for a great dramatic effect) I, being the overly anxious one, jump to the absolute worst conclusion possible and was thinking, “It’s just not right that she is going to lose an eye! Her eyes are so big and beautiful and go figure she would lose an eye!” I wish I were kidding but I’m not. We know that you are supposed to “Flush eye with water. Repeat.” But that is crazy. She wasn’t letting us anywhere near her face….so we did the only logical thing we could think of: Chris held her down on the bed and I threw a cup of water in her face. We really did that. Several times. She didn’t like it. Eventually she opened her eyes, probably in an effort to get us to stop throwing water in her face; the sand is probably still in there.
The good news is she didn’t lose an eye, summer is finally over, and we are planning our next vacation…to an open field in the mountains.