Last month, Memorial Day kicked off the summer and the family decided to head to the beach with the rest of the inland masses to have fun in the surf, a cook out and football toss in the sand. Such were our plans until...
dad suggested we stay home and run through the sprinklers just like we used to as kids growing up in suburban California.
The idea sounded better and better as we were delayed and realized that mid-day beach parking would be a deluxe nightmare resulting in cranky kids and parents.
Running through the sprinklers was novel, yet retro idea, dredged up as I said from childhood stomping grounds in Orange County.
Hot, dry days left us begging for a plunge into cool water. We didn't have a pool. City kids may wait for a released hydrant. But we babes of suburbia found the sprinkler wand and turned on all the spigots. No automatic timers in those days for our middle class, brown spotted, weed dotted back yards.
The most fun was the individual sprinkler oscillating type that went back and forth like the orbit of the moon stopping at the horizon and returning.
Jump ge the wave of drops. P
it. od u
through D s
h your neighbor friend into the
movable rain shower till they shriek from shocking cold against the oven blasting heat of July.
But better yet, if we were lucky enough to have one, which would have been the neighbors, not us, we would roll out the
SLIP AND SLIDE!!!!
Our front and back yards were plenty big to accommodate the long ribbon of yellow plastic that held heart racing excitement as bathing-suited bodies skimmed faster than light over its slippery surface.
Line up, then run like the wind, with a horizontal dive, skim into the shimmery goldenrod sliver of fun!!!
So we did that on Memorial day instead of heading to the beach.
Out with the lawn chairs, iced tea for the moms, uncles and grandma's as they watch under the shade of the tree.
Once the hose was attached to the rubbery slick tape, sending a sprinkle of water along the edge, the teenagers started first. Then the toddlers followed suit, techniques little rough at first. The 5 year old soon learned that he had to extend his legs to get any mileage, knees straight, not tucked in.
But wait!
Middle -aged mama or not, I could not hold myself back.
So I got off my lounge chair, put on my bathing suit and dived in, too.
Then we formed a body tunnel over the slide, while young uncles with a 1-2-3, pitched the 2 year old through the tunnel!!! We couldn't have laughed any harder, giggling like school kids, grandpa hubby and I while the little boys shot under our tummies through our human channel.
Who cared about the disapproving looks of the neighbor, mother of sensible girls, who never considered doing anything that might have a hint of danger in it? A mother of 4 sons, I have learned that it isn't any fun unless there's a decent dose of danger served up in the play.
(Did I tell you about our annual Fourth of July dueling roman candle wars? That's right, (goggles on) the boys aimed the California candles and shoot horizontally, facing off on the long side yard. The projectile ball doesn't sting much. It's beyond exhilarating to watch and there's a huge natural high and thrill to be in the battle line).
Back at the slip 'n slide follies, at one point I ran from the side yard to the back to turn a hose on. As I rounded the corner of the house, hand reaching for the hose spigot, I had the most vivid flashback and sense of deja vu! I was transported 3000 miles and 45 years back to my California bedroom town and
I felt like I was ten again.
It was the same exact sensation!! I literally saw myself as the pug nosed, round faced tom-boy I was, playing under the mid-summer sky with my neighbors.
My mother used to say as she got older that she didn't really feel her old age. She felt every age she'd ever been at different times. Each was the conglomerate of them all. Rather than leaving time past, it stayed with her and each year could be conjured up by certain thoughts and memories. Now she was 17. Next she was 29. She was quintessentially every age.
That ten year old feeling of carefree days and water games was as vibrant as the summer sun on my bare shoulders in my puffy, elastic-waisted sun suit. Like the wave of excitement when you're about to douse someone with a water balloon before they bomb you. Ten again for a brief moment.
I recommend it to everyone.
Do something you did as a kid and, I promise, you will re-live the very butterflies -in-your-stomach delirious joy that you did decades ago.
