They Sure Do Grow Fast

Seven years ago, after I gave birth to Catalina, Michael and I would take her out to allow the public to ooh and ahh over our precious baby girl.  After a while, we could always tell the veteran parents from the others; they would start with the same smile shared by everyone else, but it would slowly evolve into a knowing smirk and a far-off look, presumably picturing their own grown children.  Then came the Mother (ha ha, get it?) of all cliches: "Enjoy it while you can because it will be over before you know it.  Kids, they sure do grow fast."

I knew they were right.  Even when Catalina was an infant, we were always taken aback by how fast babies develop.  In a blink of an eye, their first smile. Blink: their first words.  Blink: their first "I love you."  Then we take them to the zoo and to supervised swimming lessons at the Y; we take them camping--but nowhere with bears; we take them to the beach and play in the sand and watch their daddies surf; we take them to their first day of school and cry in the parking lot because we can't be there with them.  Blink: "Daddy, when is it my turn to surf?"  Wait.  What?  You mean, in the ocean?

Michael teaches Catalina some surfing techniques;
Sydney tries to get in on the action

Last Friday, Michael took Catalina for her first surfing lesson.  We rented her a bright yellow foam board.  It seemed twice as big as Catalina.  From the board rental place to the beach, it's about a five minute walk via a path surrounded by broad-leafed trees and bushels of hanging green bananas.  We usually concentrate on looking up so we can catch another monkey sighting; doing this also takes our minds off of the tropical heat that sets in by nine in the morning and lasts until sundown.  This time, though, there could have been a hundred monkeys doing trapeze acrobatics on the vines, and Catalina would not have noticed a thing.  Sydney and I watched from behind as Catalina skipped and hopped over roots and rocks to get to where she could finally see the waves.

When we reached the water, Catalina stared out to sea just for a moment.  She saw a few other surfers out there, and raised her arms in the air to congratulate a few of them on their rides.  I should explain that, back in California, Catalina and I had talked about how daddy can't hear us when he's way out there in the ocean.  So when he gets a good ride, we raise both fists in the air and punch the sky, a visual celebration of a job well done.  At first, she did this to almost every surfer out there who caught any sort of wave at all.  Most of them either didn't know what she was doing or were playing it cool with no response, but there were a few who smiled in appreciation and gave a quick wave.

She's going out there?!

Catalina's first day out was a good day for a kook (a term meaning a beginning surfer; although, I like it even less now that my daughter is one of them).  The waves were small enough to keep the veteran surfers out of the water and to be more manageable for little kids.  There were times, though, when the swell picked up.  "Those waves," I thought, "they sure do grow fast."  As I kept my mommy-paranoia hidden, Michael gave Catalina a few quick lessons on the theory of surfing, and a couple of short practice sessions on the sand, teaching Catalina to hop quickly onto the board ("one fluid motion").  My job was to accomplish two feats: (1) getting pictures of Catalina's experience and (2) keeping Sydney from running too deeply into the water.  I had Sydney sit in the sand, just far enough to allow the waves to lap at her occasionally.  I kept one eye in the viewfinder, and one foot on Sydney's sandy bottom.

Needless to say, Catalina did wonderfully her first time out.  She rode the large board on her own like it was a boogie board.  The next day, she was eager to go out again.  I had no camera this time, and at first I was relieved to not have to worry about getting the shot and holding onto a baby.  Sydney and I had found a small thatched hut to get out of the sun, and we played in the sand as our two favorite surfers went into the water.

Blink: then it happened.

I don't know why I looked up when I did; either out of the habit of keeping track of both children at all times or out of interest in how Catalina was doing.  But there she was.  My tall, skinny, 40-pound little girl standing up, gliding across the water.  I jerked up to my feet and pointed, "Look at your sister, Sydney!"  In slow motion, an upright Catalina drifted to the shoreline, jumped into the shallow water, steadied her board, and looked towards our hut.  She beamed as both my fists punched the air as high as they could go.  She waved, turned her board back towards her awaiting father, and got a big surfer's hug.

As of this publication, Catalina has been out four times (everyday since her first), and her doodles at home have gone from butterflies and caterpillars to "I Love Surfing" in fancy lettering and pictures of waves.

Me? I'm afraid to blink.  What's next?

The next Clark-Reed surfer

Things I Hope My Daughters Remember about Our Trip

This, ideally, will be an ongoing post whenever we experience something unique to our travels, things I hope will stay with the girls as a lifelong memory.  Thankfully, the portable size of cameras these days will allow us to share many of these memories with you.  I trust that when "we remember mommy blogging all day" comes close to being on the list, that will be my signal to stop this silliness and to go create some more memories.

1. Catalina (and Sydney's...sort of) first surfing experience.  I'm posting a whole other blog on this one as soon as I can.  Catalina took her second lesson today with her daddy, and she stood up!  It was amazing to see her little body riding on top of the water.  No pictures of that...yet!

2. Seeing the howler monkeys eating in the trees during our daily walks; I especially hope they remember the babies clinging to the mommy's backs.  I didn't know either of my children were capable of saying the word "cute" that many times.

3.Watching the family of coatis (think: Costa Rican racoons with monkey-like tails) that were in our backyard in Playa Guiones.  They were so active (ripping the bark of the trees in an attempt to dine on the bugs, crossing branches like bridges, skulking through the forest), this was the only picture we could get of them.

4. All three of us girls lying together in the hammock: Sydney nursing and Catalina and mommy reading our books.  This was when I really knew I was on vacation.  

5. Having fun with just the family.  Sydney is great at entertaining herself, which often turns out to entertain us.  She turns two during our trip (that's when the airlines start charging for kids), so maybe she's trying to figure out a way to come back economically.

6. Missing friends, knowing they're important, too!

A day in the life of a retired woman...with kids

Catalina and Sydney in the Nicoya Airport

Sydney is taking her nap, Catalina is having her science lesson from her Science/Social Science Teacher (AKA Daddy), and I'm attempting to create a mini-routine by sipping iced, Costa Rican coffee with one hand and using my Kindle to blog or read in the other.

The Clark-Reed clan has taken off six months from real life to be with each other.  Michael started a blog a few days ago to let people know about the surf and the geography of our travels, and I was inspired to start one that focuses on our family, particularly what it's like to parent small children in these foreign places.

Catalina does some of her Writing Work for the week:
a postcard to one of her friends; Sydney takes a nap

The idea of our trip was a simple one, even if the logistics and preparations were not.  For half a year, we are pretending to be retired while we're still young and able to enjoy it. The dream destinations are in place already, thanks to our love of beaches and Michael's travel know-how: a month in Costa Rica, a month in San Clemente, and (count them) four months in Australia. No work, all play.  Well, okay, some work with Catalina's homeschooling, and parenting is fun, but it's never all play. We've been in Costa Rica for almost two weeks now, and we're beginning to establish what I like to call a "flexible routine."

Shannon's lone footprints during a morning run

Like  most retirements, our days begin with sleeping in. Of course, for our family this means waking up between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning. For surfer Michael, this works out well. For me, well, let's just say that I'm glad Costa Rica is known for its coffee. If the surf is up, the kiddos and I usually enjoy a leisurely breakfast; although, I still have yet to convince my seven-year-old that Gallo Pinto (a Costa Rican meal of flavorful rice and beans) is worthy of her morning taste buds.  If there is no surf, then I get to have a morning jog on the beach.  Now, I know I'm comparing my days to teaching 180 teenagers typically, but I must say that jogging barefoot next to the ocean is pretty difficult to beat.  Seeing my own footprints (and no one else's) on the jog back is even better than reading The Great Gatsby for the 50th time.

Catalina at the head of the footwalk that leads from
the Yoga Institute to the market in town

After we've truly woken up, we have the option of doing some schoolwork (I'm in charge of English, Math, and Art; Michael is Science and Social Science) or we can fulfill the Physical Education portion of the curriculum (I'll wait for you to stop laughing at the thought of me as a P.E. teacher...) by hiking along or swimming in the ocean.  Yesterday morning, we had breakfast and were finished before the heat set in.  Catalina and I strapped Sydney into the sling and headed towards a new path through the forest.  Nosara, the area in which we're staying now, is known first for its surfing and second for its yoga.  At the end of our road, lies a large, forest-covered complex called the Nosara Yoga Institute.  They have created a lovely, serene footpath from the Institute to the Mini-Super (which is both a small market with a nice variety of food and something I'm using next year to teach oxymoron).  One of Catalina's reading assignments for the week was a non-fiction piece called "The Red-Eyed Tree Frog," and she had to determine from the story whether the forest was noisy or quiet.  What a wonderful experience to be able to actually go into the forest and listen for ourselves!  Of course, Catalina noticed that the textbook offered an online "tour" of a rain forest, and she's very excited about all things electronic at the moment.  Nevertheless, we stood in the middle of the footpath near some large, braided vines and listened.  Even Sydney seemed to understand what we were doing and appeared meditative during that time.  Catalina decided that the forest was quiet.  I agreed.  It was wonderful!

Michael and the girls at the beach:
a 5 minute walk from our house

Everyday we enjoy a trip to the beach, sometimes more than once.  Michael is great about taking us at low tide so the girls can enjoy going deeper into the water.  Catalina is practically body surfing, and she has been pleading for her own surfboard lessons for a couple of days now (photos coming soon, I'm sure).  Sydney is way too courageous in the water, but we keep taking her in because she has the best laugh when the waves get strong enough to knock her down.

We miss our friends and family, of course, but I wouldn't trade this time with my husband and my girls for anything.

Next Up: Things I Hope My Daughters Remember about Our Trip