Posts Tagged competitive swimming
Sisters, Sisters, there were never such devoted sisters
Posted by crusaderjennblog in Faith, family, growing-up, Jesus, life, lifestyle on December 30, 2014
Even with 5 years between us, my younger sister and I have a good relationship and I’ve missed her terribly for the past few years being 1000 miles away. Growing up we loved each other, although we fought as siblings do and made-up when my Mom always lectured, “She’s the only sister you’ll ever have.” When Jackie entered first grade many moons ago, at the same private school where I was, I didn’t hesitate to protect her from the line of boys pursuing her. Being older, I was my sister’s first line of defense against boys. She always remained picture-perfect in her dresses, unlike me. It took many years to finally see it, but when I did, I shook my head in disgust. Maybe at myself for obtaining less mud and grass stains on my clothes than the boys while we played red-rover-red-rover/softball/soccer-take your pick or perhaps it was with my Mom for having high expectations of me coming home spotless like Jackie. The most likely scenario for my Mom was recognizing that the countless hours she spent sewing together pieces of fabric to create beautiful dresses like the following were completely irrelevant to me.
As hard as I tried as a kid, this broad-shouldered girl was not demure and I found myself rather confused by all the pig-tailed girls like my sister who were. My goal at recess was to play and play hard, which included returning from recess with a sweaty red face, which equaled intense fun. If grass and mud-stains could be graded at a private school surrounded by acres of grass, I was the valedictorian. Grass stains on my dresses and holes in my tights were consistent. I remember my Mom being horrified when she discovered (after many months) that I came up with what I thought was a grand idea to wear shorts under my dresses and over my tights. For what? To prevent boys from seeing my Underoos when I flipped upside-down from or climbed on top of the Monkey Bars. While wearing a dress. Duh. Meanwhile, my sister likely spent recess with her friends picking dandelions and frolicking. Another pastime at recess was locating who was in trouble and was pounding the chalk out of the erasers at the end of the building because I discovered those little piles of chalk-dust were tasty, or maybe I thought that a saliva coated finger dipped in chalk dust tasted just like Fun Dip. Don’t judge. It’s no different than eating glue paste. I was a good kid and harmless, but I could find trouble or create it with some hair-brained ideas – like the self-made Fun (Chalk) Dip. While I was at school finding shenanigans, my sister was being her teacher’s pet and very helpful passing out things to her classmates or playing the ideal daughter at home as she played with her collection of Barbies.
Through it all, my sister and I survived. I mentioned Jackie’s survival also because I was almost five when Jackie was born and shortly after meeting my new sister, I attempted to help feed her a whole dinner-roll. My Mom caught me ‘helping’ my sister and found it in her heart to NOT cease my breathing-habit despite my misguided efforts to feed my baby-sister solids way too soon. I also ran over her on my bike – not to be mean, but she got in my way and I couldn’t stop quickly enough. Speaking of bikes, I think we were one of the last generations to ride bikes sans helmets. And lived to tell about it. I think we were also one of the last generations who got away with chewing ABC (Already Been Chewed) gum that we innocently discovered on the ground or found stuck to the underside of desks in school. Not to mention how many times lollipops were dropped on the ground, wiped-off and shoved back into our mouths. We survived. A little gravel in the diet was probably good for a colon-cleansing. I would insert an amusing Saturday Night Live parody commercial here for Quarry Breakfast Cereal, but it seems that all links are blocked for copyrighted material on YouTube. Even in the midst of our ignorance, I suspect our foolishness contributed to strengthening our immune systems and we didn’t even have antibacterial hand sanitizer. Yet, somehow we prevailed…
My sister and I could not be more different. I was athletic and therefore, a tom-boy She was and still remains a girly-girl, although with my precious niece and nephew in-tow, ruffles aren’t nearly as practical these days. I read her blog and I don’t want to say that I’m proud because I have no right to be, but I am impressed. She’s a busy stay-at-home-Mom with a six year-old and a two year-old in-tow, creating meal-plans, running a successful blog about life as a Wife and Mommy, that is filled with pictures of her family, creative projects, and dishes she’s made, which includes the recipes. Then there’s me who is not nearly as refined. Me caveman.
Dress-up!I have a great deal of wonderful memories that include Jackie – camping, putting-on shows for our parents with duds from our chest of props and accessories (wigs gowns, etc.), going to the theater to see The Lion King and being the Maid/Matron of Honor in each other’s weddings, scrap-booking… The list goes on and on, but obviously as much as we differ, we’re still bonded and have a great deal in common. I love my sister dearly and am grateful for our relationship.
Jenn
All over the map
Posted by crusaderjennblog in Faith, family, Inspiration, lifestyle, MS, prayer on December 27, 2014
Competitive swimming from grade school through part of college – think hundreds of laps daily and nearly Olympic trials level fast – not slowly floating across the pool on a noodle (that many sadly call ‘swimming,’) piano, flute, 4-H-sewing and cooking and finally Jazz dance, which would be close to the equivalent of today’s hip-hop genre, were my extra-curricular activities growing up. I had just turned 8 or 9 when I completed the Red Cross certified swimming courses and my stay-at-home Mom was desperate to enroll me in something that would keep me out of trouble busy so she spoke to my final instructor who was also a coach with the swim team newbies and suggested I try-out for the local club. I immediately took to competitive swimming, which required little time to learn backward and forward flip-turns so I could keep up with the circle of other swimmers at my level. My parent’s ongoing joke was that I was born with webbed feet. So seriously, Mom & Dad, with the umpteen number number of hours in the pool each week, was there even the slightest possibility that I wasn’t?
Swimming continues to be one of my favorite activities and ‘back-in-the-day’ I became somewhat of an aquatics guru within my family, who looked to me to life-guard cousin’s birthday related pool-parties and instruct the how-to’s of swimming and water-skiing to my little sister and younger cousins. In college I continued to swim with the early morning Masters team. Many years later when we moved to Nevada, we noticed many homes have pools and when we bought our home a few years ago, we were very excited to have our own. From mid-spring through late-summer, the outdoor temperatures maintain around 103 and as it’s too expensive to run air conditioning full-time. Therefore, the pool provides a perfect relief to cooling-down my core. MS has altered my body’s ability to self-regulate my core so when I become warm, I’m technically overheated, making our pool’s cool temperature a tremendous source of relief and blessing with those high outdoor temperatures for 6 months. Other than swimming during the hot temperatures, I’m embarrassed to admit I do very little any more.
Obviously, I had the ability to commit long-term to activities while growing-up, but because of MS and what it’s taken from me, my interests are really all over the map. I think my abilities prior to MS taking me backward have unfortunately dictated what I can or cannot do. I was never a quitter and I have my folks to thank for instilling in me a stick-to-it attitude, but there have been several activities that I began and quit because of MS ‘issues.’ For example, I discovered and indulged my love for stamping cards and book marks, but when the tremors ataxia started where my hands shook badly, it became impossible to accurately place rubber stamps. This caused what I had hoped to call ‘artistic creations’ to become somewhat of a mess, resembling over-priced pieces of abstract art, at which point, my neurologist gave me yet another MS related symptom-chasing drug to lessen the shaking, which helped, but at a sacrifice because of the cocktail of drugs. I was rarely coherent appearing somewhat of a zombie with my glazed-over eyes. And I quit stamping. However, I could make a mean martini – shaken, not stirred became my joke because “If I can’t laugh, I may cry,” and I really try to limit that tissue-requiring activity. I also tried my hand at becoming an independent beauty consultant for a big corporation (whose reps are rewarded with pink cars), but eye-make up was a joke to apply because of that whole fine-motor-skills lacking hand stability. Then, I became a cooking rep for a company that specialized in quick mixes to create tasty dishes. Although I had fun and was successful, that was also short-lived when I had to give-up driving. My attitude was that as much as I still wanted my ‘right’ to be independent to drive, other cars/pedestrians had the right to be safe when my increasing foot/leg ataxia became hazardous to controlling the correct pedals. And I quit driving.
2015 will mark 10 years ago that God provided healing and pulled me from my wheelchair, but I have nothing to show for it, except several activities in which I invested, only to quit. Beading was another post-wheelchair favorite, but short-lived activity as I attended bead-shows and then created beautiful bracelets and earrings. At the same time I came from the wheelchair, I quit the the numerous symptom-chasing prescription drugs because I was tired of feeling like the undead. Although I was lucid, my hand stability was only achieved after a couple of glasses of wine. That became somewhat of a big discovery. I could be a creative, but functioning drunk or a non-lucid undead human… That was an obvious choice. I have continually returned to writing and I made a goal 10 years ago to write my encouraging story, but I lost my inspiration. Writing has been a passion since grade-school, but in junior high there was an adult and best friend who ganged-up on me to tell me that I was wasting my time at which point , I guess I gave-up on it, although I would still scribble-out ideas and write creatively, from time to time. That was very much ‘my bad’ for giving into believing their discouragement and I’ve learned to ignore those voices or mentally give the middle finger salute to those inner voices who say I can’t or that I’m wasting my time.
I realize that I must continue to actively learn something – anything productive. I did online courses a couple of years ago in which I discovered I’m completely left-brained. Thank you, Dad, who is an engineer. It feels great to be learning and I’ve tossed around the idea of learning to use a knitting loom as it doesn’t require fine-motor-skills. I may also again attempt to bead or stamp as my ataxia seems to be becoming less of an issue… Praise God because martini-making provides a very limited skill-set. I’ll keep you posted on what activity has gained my attention…
Jenn



