Sunday, April 19, 2009
Hmm, when it ended? Spring is the season of crocuses pushing up through the soil, the green haze of buds on winter dormant trees and sex; or at least Family Education at the kids school. The second daughter inconceivably gave birth to a 10 pound bag of sugar (although, if it could be accomplished, this would be the kid to do so) which she named "Frank" and which she fed, diapered and cared for during 72 hours of "Family Life". SD received an "A" and we got a 10 pound bag of sugar that is just a little creepy to consume. The second daughter is now growing hair in strange places and so it's time for "car talk" to begin. Turns out that in a small house with 12 ears, the most conducive venue for "talk" is the car. Car talk generally begins with "mom I've got a question" and ends with us circumnavigating the neighborhood. I believe the record is 25 rotations which ended with a sigh of relief and "whew, we finally had the sex talk". You mean there is more to the most wonderful gift on earth then just making babies? Happily, gratefully, yes. Which brings us back to the puberty question. My answer to which was the sense of female bonding. There was just something about walking through that time with girl friends, reading "Are you there God, it's me Margaret" and then someone inadvertently got hold of a bootlegged copy of "Forever". That was still the age, at least in my family, where we learned about sex from novels and copies of "The Joy of Sex" at sleepovers. I traversed puberty at a snails pace and joined the wistful ranks of those in the locker room hiding behind a locker door. In actuality, it took pregnancy to bestow me with hips and mammary glands. (they really didn't become breasts again until the ten constant years of pregnancy or nursing concluded) Tac and I recently listened to an audio study of the Song of Solomon and came away with an entirely new vocabulary for the human body and the ways of a man and his bride. A new language comes in handy with two offspring in the "car talk" camp and the "spelling things out" code long since exhausted. They tend to shy away from reading the Song of Songs so we are safe for now.
We are, as ever, a busy household with Soccer/Rugby, Soccer, Fencing and Soccer. And golf! I joined a golf league and will play for the first time in about 12 years. I went to the shed yesterday to retrieve my garage sale clubs I picked up a couple of decades ago, only to discover rust pocked and peeling shafts and heads. I see great liability with those on the driving range with those, so off to Craig's list I go. I took golf in college, being ever so executive minded at the time, and to this day I don't regret it a moment. At one of Tac's swank cocktail parties I was invited to join an executive women's golf league; an invitation I may indulge once I regain my swing. I also took fencing in college, which came in handy when the parents were summoned to the floor to help fill out the ranks in Oldest Sons first fencing class. The rust knocked off quick enough, as we learned to parlay and joust, albeit my opponent was perhaps five years old. Fencing is an amazing sport of strategy, precision and absolutely butt kicking aerobic conditioning.
Since this is a triathlon blog, it seems right to update: One sprint (two weeks hence) Grandma's Marathon (a PR on the radar) and possibly a trip to the Big Pig Gig in August with someone who is training for a little thing we call Kona. I secretly am hoping to get the ok to go Iron myself this year, but I have a hunch that will have to yield to the "only one crazy parent training at a time" rule.
So, there it is, a long overdue post made possible by the fervent request of the two most likely to want to peek inside the Trimama brain and the two most likely to wash an extra pile of dishes to make it possible.