Waves of Change

The eldest is flying the nest and youngest refuses to leave the coop. Change is a comin’ so I cling to the nostalgia of beach days………

We’ve been expecting the eldest to fly the nest for some time now. However, the USA borders have been closed for months, so our expectation was that she would leave in January. As is of our time, things change, and they change fast. The borders are now open to international students and the USA Embassy has re-opened. We have suddenly been flung into a mad panic of appointments, interviews, flight booking, insurance investigations and packing. The youngest, who has felt the C19 changes the most, has lost his school structure, friendships and soon to be his elder sister. His wing man and his confidant. So he and I are heading for the Island.

I do lots of things with Libby, my eldest daughter. She is easy going and easy company. We have things we like doing together. I don’t do much with Archie, the youngest. I can’t kick a football for toffee. I fall over just looking at a skateboard. I hate the Xbox vehemently, and in particular the child he becomes when he’s been left to play on it for hours. But he is soon to become an only child, my only child at home. As if our world hadn’t changed enough over the last few months, the biggest change of all is yet to come.

Although I don’t spend much time with Archie, he and I are very alike. Highly strung, overtly and overly sensitive. At our worst we clash and at our best we understand each other intrinsically. Lockdown has been hard on everyone and our household is no different from the next. But Archie and I have felt the changes most intensely. We both need time alone to process and re-charge our batteries. Hard to find in a crowded house. After a particular trying day of friendship fallouts (him) and family frustrations (me) we met in the kitchen before bed. Our trip to the Isle of Wight hung in the balance as the eldest now had an emergency visa appointment. Archie could see this was upsetting me greatly. He understands my need for the beach, the sea and nostalgic family tradition. So he said “let’s still go mum, just you and me, because it will make you happy.” Never has a greater gift been bestowed upon a mother than a teenage child willing and wanting to spend time with her. I reacted as any mother would. I gave him a hug so long and hard he squirmed and almost suffocated.

Archie is tricky character, but then so was I at 15. He feels hard and reacts ardently. Over the last few months he’s had the rug pulled from under his feet. He finds managing relationships difficult, has a black and white view of the world and I pity the person who dares go against his moral compass. So when you are prevented from seeing your peers, had your daily structure removed and your body decides now is the time to go through puberty, your world kinda falls apart. Small disagreements on the Xbox or group chat are magnified by the circumstances of meeting only one mate, having mates that are shielding and having concentrated long on-line battles. He has been ghosted by his lifelong friends -he will be by no means blameless – but it’s a pretty piss poor place to be in. So although she said “let’s go to the Island” to make me happy, I think he knew the break would make him happy too.

Getting ready to leave started subtly a few days before. You have to warm Archie up before leaving the house. Lots of gentle reminders of our plans. On the day of departure you have to ramp up the reminders but not so much that he shuts down. You are teetering on a cliff edge. I was reassured all mornings that he would be ready to leave at 3pm. I say all morning when in reality he didn’t stir until midday. At 2pm he finally got in the shower. Like a hawk, I swooped into his bedroom, curtains pulled, bed made, rucksack found, clean undies located, swim trunks packed and out again before he returned to drop a sodden towel on the floor. It was inevitably after 3pm when, despite his reassurances, we were still looking for his headphones and chargers, Rushing him would be counter-productive and cause more delays and door slamming but we had a ferry to catch. A ferry on a reduced service and a car with no fuel. Finally a few hours later we were sat on the sun deck crossing the Solent. Him without any type of jumper on his body or in his bag. “You told me it would be hot mum”. At least there was no turning back now.

As we disembarked the boat grandma was there to greet us. Archie accepted the obligatory embarrassing hug and kiss. He does this sort of sideways smile when he is clearly doing things out of duty. The smile is preferable to the sullen sulk I’d be treated to for the whole car and ferry crossing. And frankly any type of smile is way better than the alternative. We headed straight to the beach for a dinner of beer and chips (coke for him). He indulged my parents with whole sentence answers and we watched the sunset over the bay. We were off to a good start.

The next morning he surfaced before noon and set about cooking us all breakfast in the garden on the BBQ. We packed a swim bag and headed to the beach hut for the day. The forecast was for glorious sunshine all day. We set up camp and he then came with me on a walk along the foreshore looking for sea glass and shells. It was everything I hoped it would be. Me and him, together, relaxing by the sea. He then took a nap on the shingle while I explored a bit more, then back to the beach hut for a lunch fit for kings, cheesy chips and ice cream. With the ice cream first. But by teatime it had all gone to pot. The swim shorts I’d packed were the wrong ones. He didn’t want me to buy a new pair from the shop. He was hot and uncomfortable with no means to cool down. We bumped into old friends with their two teenage girls, yes that’s girls, cue hiding behind fringe and back to monosyllabic answers. And the cherry on the top was he’d got sunburn. I hadn’t nagged him to reapply cream because I didn’t want to take off my rose tinted glasses. The result was burnt feet, shins and nose. The salt in the wound was we still had to walk, in ‘rubbing on sunburn’ sliders, round to the next bay where we had a table booked for dinner before departure. The walk is along the sea wall, the water is an incredible turquoise colour and the bay is full of beautiful bobbing sailing ships. Yet this was the most arduous and unpleasant walk ever. He sighed and huffed the whole way, sweat dripping off him, while my mum tried to placate him. I love my mum but she is shit at reading when people need to be left alone but she eventually looked up to see me frantically making cut throat signs. Finally seated at our table, in searing heat but at least shade he began to come back to us. Food for a growing 15 year old can work wonders. Dad and I walked back to collect the car so we would not have to suffer another sunburn on sliders walk home, and when we returned he was smiling, sort of.

We got the last ferry home. I hadn’t refuelled the car in the rush to get there the previous day. My dream day shattered. It would be midnight before I saw my front door. This was not the mum and son wistful trip over the water I had wanted. On the way home, Archie navigated us to a service station to refuel, mars bar for him, diesel for the car. And when the A27 was shut at Arundel, because it couldn’t get any worse could it, he stepped up and became navigator once more. Finally home he had a cold shower and went to bed with flannels on his feet.

The next day, when asked how it had been, he told his dad “Really good apart from the obvious”. We still don’t know what the obvious is. Was it spending time away from the Xbox? Getting sunburnt? Seeing teenage girls? And then I realised I need to the focus on the ‘REALLY GOOD’ and not the ‘obvious’. He tells me he no longer likes the beach and that he is not like me and doesn’t want to go in the sea. But that is just not true. He, like me, truly relaxes there, was happy foraging in the foreshore, snoozing on the shingle and yes he was pissed off that I’d packed the wrong shorts, but that is because he wanted to get in the sea. A lot is changing but a lot stays the same. Buried beneath teenage sullen sulks that kid is still there. The one that would dig trenches in the sand, be the first on the SUP or foamie, draws on pebbles and jump off cliffs into the water with the dog. And as long as I can still drag him to the beach I’ll get glimpses of my boy back. The really good! And that’s as timeless as the tides.

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Come gather ’round, people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you is worth savin’
And you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’

Bob Dylan

Libby in the Lakes – swimming with my daughter

As my daughter and I inevitably begin to spend less time together, swimming gives us some snatched moments together

I am a Seabird. I swim in the sea. I am not anti Lidos, Lakes and Lochs I just prefer the sea and it helps that it is on my doorstep. This summer I swapped the salt for freshwater swimming in the Lake District and Scotland with a sneaky anniversary trip to the rivers of the Somerset levels. They didn’t disappoint. All special for different reasons. The Lakes because I swam with my daughter.

My eldest child did her GCSEs this summer and I was keen for her to have the best summer ever as a reward for working so hard. She, like me swims in the sea all year round albeit in a wet-suit and as part of her Surf Life Saving weekly training sessions. She is an incredible swimmer, powerful and fast. If I got into trouble in the sea I would want her there. But other than her weekly session and the occasional dip with mates after school she doesn’t swim in the sea, at least not with me. I don’t know why not, I make her look like an elegant mermaid as I splash around frantically trying to keep up with her. Maybe it’s just not cool to hang out with your mum when you are 16! So it was a massive surprise when she agreed to come swimming in the Lake District with me.

The plan was for she and I to drive up to the Lakes on our way to Scotland for a family holiday. My husband and son would fly up to Glasgow to meet us when my youngest had broken up from school. Best laid plans. She soon backed out of the Scotland trip as she wanted to hang out with her mates. Fortunately she still wanted to do the Lakes with me. So as my husband and son arrived in Alba, she got on the same plane and flew home. All she saw of Scotland was Gretna Green Service Station and Glasgow Airport! But not before we had a fantastic couple of days exploring tarns, rivers and waterfalls.

The course has been set for uncharted territory. Not just the unfamiliar freshwater lakes but we are entering a new phase as Libby leaves school. She is changing fast and I am trying to keep up. It’s hard enough trying to keep up with her swimming!  I can cope with the late nights and the boozy experiments and think I have finally grasped what ‘linking’ is but I miss her. She just doesn’t want to be with me anymore. She either wants to be out with her mates or alone in her room. I have created an independent young woman with very strong ideas about who she wants to be and who she wants to be with. And it ain’t me! It’s everything I wished for but I feel bereft.

I was determined we would have the best time together so she could see what she was missing hanging out with her dear ol’ Ma. Spending time with your teens is hard. There is such pressure for the snatched moments you have together to be better than snapchat scrolling you inevitably end up arguing. Probably over snapchat scrolling. But I was not deterred.  Armed with my Wild Guide, we still managed to get lost, but when we didn’t we swam and chatted, swam and laughed, swam and squealed.

It was a wonderful couple of days with a beautiful back drop. I will definitely return to the Lake District. Hopefully with Libby. It was over all too soon and normal service soon resumed. Back to feeling like I had an empty nest but the fledgling was still in it. Redundant in my role as a parent as my child was now self sufficient and flying free.  There is a wealth of information about parenting from how to potty train and other developmental milestones but nothing had prepared me for this. Grieving for a girl that was just upstairs

I am still trying to catch up with the speed at which she is growing (and swimming). I still ask he if she wants to come on a dog walk with me even when I know the answer will be no. Ever hopeful that one day the answer will be yes. Our interactions are mainly me hovering at her bedroom door asking her if she wants of cup of tea. There are still the rare moments when she comes into the kitchen and wants a chat but she in is charge of when this will be.

It was during one of these moments when she told me she really enjoyed swimming in the Lake District with me. She ‘just liked being with me on her own’ and ‘found it relaxing’. In teenage talk that was a very long conversation! It took every ounce of self control not to book a lifetimes worth of trips right there and right then to ensure we would always have that time together. Instead I very coolly suggested she might like to do The Big Bala Swim with me next year. (In my head I was cool, I may well have squeaked it whilst clinging to her). And she has agreed! So next year Gwynedd with my Girl. Until then bedroom hovering will have to do.

Author: Seabirds Kath

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