Here Comes the Sun!

I don't know when I last saw the sun upon getting up in the morning. When I took the dog out this morning, I couldn't believe it. There was the sun in all of its glory. I knew what that meant: warmth. Right now, I'll take what I can get. The waves weren't great. The wind picked up about five minutes before I got to my home break. I went out anyway. I said what I always say as I walk back to the car to suit up, knowing the conditions aren't going to be good, "Ah, what the hell!" At least the sun was out. It was a day when I could have gone without the springsuit. However, at this point, I'm dealing with hair issues so I was wearing a hat which I'd sewn to my wetsuit zipper pull thingamajig. There was no way I was getting in without knowing the hat was permanently attached to something. My surf-related delusions of grandeur do not involve me effortlessly kicking out of each wave, thus preventing my head from getting wet while also keeping the hat squarely on my head. I knew if I didn't attach the hat to something, I'd probably never see it again. I would have been fine, in fact, but the "Victory at Sea" conditions assured that I'd be pitched headlong into the water at times. And I was . . . pitched headlong into the water on a few occasions. It was a fun session though. The Tyler is rock solid in chop so I caught my share of waves.

Interestingly enough, I came away from the session with this weird feeling of maternal joy. Blame it on the dolphins! They were everywhere. What was a first for me was the sight of so many baby dolphins swimming with their mothers—at least, I assume the larger dolphins each baby stuck to was its mom. Stuff like this never got to me before I had my own baby dolphin, er, human. Four years ago, the sight of the babies with the bigger dolphins would have elicited a "That's cool!" from me and nothing else. When I'd watch wildlife programs on TV, seeing Darwinism in action elicited no kind of emotional response from me. So if a lion grabbed a baby antelope, I simply watched in wonder as the baby was dragged away and the mother antelope (whose child had wondered off) looked frantically for her child. Now, when I see things like that, it's all I can do not to burst into tears. Upon seeing the baby dolphins with their mothers, I was awestruck, thinking once again how important I am to my child at this point in his life.

I know it won't last . . . and it's not supposed to. He'll be doing his own thing soon enough. But for now, we stick closely to one another like I saw those dolphin babies doing with their mothers. Each day, we spend serious quality time together in the morning, go our separate ways for a few hours to do our own things—he does daycare and socialization with his own kind while I get a workout in to clear my head and recharge my batteries—and then reunite in the afternoon for family quality time (that somehow involves me and my husband having to watch Thomas the Tank Engine and/or play with Hot Wheels and Rescue Heroes). Anyway, the waves I got today paled in comparison to the sight of the dolphin moms and kids. No, I didn't cry, but I came close.