Fog

Andy hears water splashing and a shout from within the fog.  Goosebumps cover his skinny arms as he slips on the wet concrete.  Leaping into the cloud, the hot springs envelope him.  Cannonball!

Photo credit:
Bérenger ZYLA / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

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Linking up with Trifexcta: 33 words to tell a story inspired by the picture above.  I remember many winter trips to the Ouray Hot Springs and the eery cloud hovering over the warm water while chilled swimmers appeared in the midst, speed-walking their way to locker rooms.  And warm showers.

small things {ten steps}

small things #51 ... ten steps

Today is our final morning of swim lessons.  We've been thoroughly saturated, chlorinated and hydrated. In celebration of eight successful sessions of splashing, swimming and sloshing around, the kids have been jumping off the diving boards.

This is the first year that Ashley has enjoyed the diving boards without having to have a noodle tied under her armpits or and life jacket cinched around her shivering chest.

This is also the first year that she did this:

Ten steps up, deep breath - splash!

Keeping My Head Above Water

A few times in my recent Snapshots posts, I have alluded to my current status of feeling overwhelmed.  I haven't written that with the intent of garnering your sympathies, but to be frank and honest with you.  This mothering gig is a doozy!

In visiting with a friend on the phone the other night, we got to talking about the fullness of life.  Not necessarily the full, satisfying, rewarding aspects of life, but the "one more task", "one more activity", "one more errand to run", "one more meal to make" aspects of life.  The parts of life that really wear me out!

The general consensus was that this full-to-the-brim with a-little-running-over characteristic of life might just be my new norm.  It's inevitable that our four kids will be going in any number of directions - even if we are intentional about keeping our family activities to a minimum.  It's just pack and parcel to the life of a busy family.

While this realization doesn't really change my situation, it does change my perspective a bit.  I may not be able to carve away any excess busyness, but I can be more relaxed and go with the flow a bit more readily.  I have been diving into my morning without consulting God on His plans and that is like starting the day already partly underwater.  If, instead, I start my day with His big picture of what needs to happen and if I am realistic about whether or not all of my plans will fit into the allotted hours of the day, then I am more prone to feel a sense of satisfaction at the end of the evening.  That is, as opposed to a sense of being swamped.  Submerged.  Sinking.

Recently Ashley illustrated this beautifully.  And with a good amount of splash!

A few weeks ago, we spent the evening at the pool.  My husband's athletic club hosts a family swim night on Fridays and we try to take advantage of it as often as we can ... if only to keep the kids' gills moist.

During our time at the pool, Norah was practicing swimming from one side of the pool to the other, Lydia was leaping into the pool from the stairs with her foam noodle tucked under her arms, Aaron was  chucking the sponge ball back and forth with Brett.  And Ashley was "treadmilling".

Little Le-Le parked herself along one wall where she couldn't reach the bottom.  With a quick, "Watch, Mom!" she would let go of the wall and begin running in place - arms flailing, legs kicking, head bobbling and body sinking.  For about 1.7 seconds she would frantically churn the water and then as her head went under she would seize the edge of the pool again, turn to me and proudly shout, "I'm treadmilling!"

Of course, Norah was quick to correct her.

"It's treading water, Ashley.  Treading.  Water.  Not treadmilling."

That didn't dampen Ashley's enthusiasm.  She simply turned back to her corner of the pool and did her best to keep her head above water.  So very much like her Mommy.

I think that might be one of the best pictures of my life recently.  I'm in the deep-end of a pool-full of life's demands and I am running in place, expending a lot of energy, not really going anywhere and still feeling like my head is on the verge of going under.  glub, glub, glub ...


If, on the other hand, I were to recognize that I can't touch the bottom of my day's demands, that God is my Wall (Psalm 91:2) Who will stay right within my reach, and if I allow His River of living water (John 7:37-39) to flow through me, I might be able to relax enough to actually tread water and keep my head up!

I don't think my list of "to-do's" is going to change.  If anything, there is the potential for our daily schedule to get a whole lot deeper.  But my outlook can be different.

Here's to swimming instead of sinking!

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31 Days of Mom in the Midst

Day 1:  Mom in the Midst

Day 2:  My Button is Lame

Day 3:  Splendidly Lavish

Day 4:  Keeping My Head Above Water

Swim, Little Fishy, Swim

Yesterday I came home from my early morning walk to find my three girls already in their swimsuits.

"We're ready, Mom!"

"Oh my ... you do realize that swim lessons don't start for another ... uh, three hours.  Right?"

"Yep!  We're just so excited!"

So I can see ...


In spite of our three hour pre-swim lesson prep-time, we were still just a mere five minutes early to the pool.  I am quite certain that there is a time vortex located somewhere in the vicinity of the door leading out to the garage.  Without fail, I am regularly proactive about leaving with 10 minutes to spare only to find myself backing out of the garage 15 minutes behind schedule!  How does that happen?!?

Anyway, as we walked across the pool deck, shucking shoes off as we went along, retrieving said shoes when Mommy asked, "Where are your shoes?" and high-fiving cousins, I had a few mini-flashbacks to previous swim lessons ...

Mom and Tot classes with Aaron when he was just a year old.  Lumbering out in my maternity swimsuit with my little tyke propped on my hip/belly.  He was happy to be in the water, motor-boating around.  I was happy to be in the water with front row seats to watching my little guy learning to blow bubbles.  My hips were happy to be in the water for the sheer relief of 30 minutes of weightlessness.

Little shivering Norah in her first independent swim lesson.  Sorta independent.  I remember shaking my head as I watched my tiny land lubber sit on the side of the pool and attach herself to her teacher's hip.  She was still dry from the waist up after every class.  I don't remember paying extra for the sherpa-version swim lesson, but I probably should have tipped the teacher.

Tiny Ashley tippy-toeing her way across the pool.  She was diligently making "ice cream scoops" with her hands.  As she climbed up on the side of the pool, I could tell from across the way that she was freezing.  Her little body was shaking violently, shivering from the top of her little pony-tail down to her itty-bitty pinky toe.  I was tempted to rescue her early, wrapping her up in a warm, dry towel.  I'm glad I didn't ... her radiant, "did you see me??" smile warmed her up as she walked along the deck at the end of class.

And now, here we are again.  Another year, another teacher, another splash.  The difference this year is that there are four Kellum kids suited up.  Even little Lydia is sunscreened, suited and ready to swim!

As my purple-suited little mermaid tiptoed her way to the water, I admit to being a little worried.

Would she get in the pool on her own?


Would she listen to the teacher?


Would she follow the other kids in the activities?


Would she have fun?

Yes, yes, yes and YES!

Thanks to cousin Mallory, Lydia had someone to hold her hand as she walked down the steps to the pool.  She stayed close to the teacher and participated in all the activities:  laying on her back, kicking her legs, bobbing up and down and doing her "ice cream scoops".  And the smile on her face as she sat on the side of the pool and kicked huge splashes with her pudgy little feet was proof that she was having a great time!

While I was happy to see my little fish so thrilled to be in her lesson, it was a little bittersweet.  A little poignant, perhaps. We have been participating in swim lessons since each of our little people were babies.  But there is something about the baby starting her lessons.  Does that make sense?

She's the last one.  The last one in her first swim lesson.  The last one to wonder, "How will she do?"  The last one to discover the wonder of blowing bubbles in the water.  The last one to celebrate her first front float.  The last one to explore the wonder of being underwater.

It's yet another season of change for my baby.  Isn't there something in Ecclesiastes 3 about that ... a time for everything under the sun, a time to cautiously tickle your toes in the shallow end, a time to jump with great gusto into the deep?  No ... maybe not.  But that passage is chock full of other seasons of change and growth, so I'm sure it could fit in there! :)

To all the other kids, swim lessons yesterday were a bit "old hat".  Aaron is a Barracuda and he swam the length of the pool three times and learned the basics of treading water.  Norah is an Angelfish and she excitedly told me of her adventures of doing eight cannonballs and bobbing forty times.  Ashley is a Jellyfish and smiled radiantly, again, as she informed me that they, "spent the WHOLE time in the super deep water!"

And Lydia, my little Guppie, is well on her way to being a fish like her siblings.  I just hope she doesn't feel the need to jump off into the deep end too quickly.  I need my little fishy to stay little just a bit longer.  Preferably in the shallow pool. :)

Of course, with all the kids participating in the lessons, this meant I had 40 minutes to enjoy kid-free ... I could certainly get used to that!  Just so long as they all decide to swim back to me when they're done. :)