My girls have had an action packed June which began with High School Youth Camp in North Carolina, then a week of VBS volunteering, followed by a week of Surf Camp.
All in a bid to WEAR THEM DOWN.
What I’d like to discuss are the joys of Surf Camp. This is a camp conducted on the campus where our Co-op meets one day a week during the school year. The church has been offering this Surf Camp for 18 years. Happily, the building is right across the street from the actual ocean.
I want to say something about moving near the ocean 18 years ago. I was not happy. I’m not a beach girl. Give me wide open spaces and tall trees. If it weren’t for the sand, the beach, I suppose, would be tolerable. Fiddledaddy still wonders how we ever got together, as this factoid never came up in premarital counseling.
Neither did his obsession with medical knowledge and his desire to pass on EVERY MINUTE DETAIL OF THE HUMAN FRAILTY to me in email form. But you don’t hear me complaining. He can actually say, before giving unsolicited advice, “I’m not a doctor, but I have played one on t.v.” (Which is true.) Like that works with me. He has also been known to inquire, “Did you BLOCK MY E-MAILS?”
Where was I? Oh yes. Fiddledaddy grew up locally, a few miles from the beach. Although he never picked up surfing, he did rock the tan and groovy feathered long blonde hair. He dearly loves the beach.
I signed the girls up for Surf Camp before the end of the school year, because A) a number of their friends were doing it, and B) I wanted them to be tired for a week. Plus Surf Camp involved some really awesome evening worship music and a fantastic message from the pastor. You can never get enough of that as a teenager, I always say.
At first they were dubious because, you know, A NEW SPORT. I stuck around on the morning of the first day of camp and enjoyed the pastor’s speech on ALL THE RULES. First rule, NO PURPLE. What that means is that the boys are blue and the girls are pink. And if the two mix, purple (this is not true as my art teacher friend informed me). But the kids got the idea. There were also rules about modest bathing attire, clean language, and no smoking or drinking. I think just the moms applauded, but whatever.
They run a really awesome surf camp, comprised of 300 teenagers and many many volunteers. I was impressed. And my girls were hooked on surfing that very first day.
The week culminated with a surfing contest. In the Beginners/Intermediate Division, both of my girls made it to the semi-finals, and Cailey advanced to the finals. That night, Cailey learned that she had placed 4th in her division.
Pretty much all they’ve been able to think about is surfing since the camp ended. And over the weekend they spent some of their savings on two starter surf boards. We’ve hit the beach with their other surfing buddies several times since surf camp.
It should be noted that we have purchased Cailey’s weight in sunscreen products. She turns pink if she saunters past a window. One salty old surfer noticed her gliding through the parking lot with her board and hollered to me, “HOW DO YOU KEEP HER SO WHITE?” She was not amused.
And guess who shuttles them to and fro? Me! A funny thing has happened in my Lyme Disease journey. I’m actually feeling good. Good enough to haul a bunch of kids and their surf boards to the beach and back. And guess what else? I’m starting to actually be OKAY with my toes in the sand. In fact, right now, there is sand all over my mommy van. AND I’M NOT FREAKING OUT!
Because here is one of the joys of a day spent at the beach:
Those comatose lumps on the couch are my daughters. They’ve looked like this for the last couple of hours. Periodically, I check for a pulse.
Around here, we like to call this phenomenon RUNNING THE DOGS. And it’s going to make for a great summer. Cowa. Bunga. Dude.