Water Loving Genes

When I was a young kid, I was OBSESSED with the water. I mean, obsessed. Like, I wanted to be in the water so badly that my mom gave up trying to control this urge, and let me plunge fully into any body of water over 2 inches deep…in my dresses. Because I was also a super girly tomboy who climbed trees and wore dresses EVERY DAY until I was in 4th grade. 

One of my favorite memories was going to a park with some friends, and normally this wading pool (shaped like an Orca) was dried up (because it wasn’t summertime), but this one time it was FULL OF WATER and I went full on swimming, in a pale yellow dress with puffy sleeves. Pretty sure parenting me was like trying to  stop a rushing river. 

At any rate, I’ve noticed a similar trend with Potamus. He shouts “water!” whenever he sees a body of water, and the other day I had to drag him away from running headlong into Lake Washington. And we had plans that didn’t involve soggy clothes, so I had to say ‘no,’ which resulted in a meltdown of epic proportions. 

It makes me wonder if a preference for swimming, or being around water, is a genetic preference, or just a being-a-kid thing. Because he’s seriously obsessed. Except with showers. He’s not a fan of showers. 

“My city, my city, childhood, that’s right:” how Macklemore’s lyrics are making me feel the love

Space Needle

I’ve been listening to a lot of Macklemore & Ryan Lewis lately. There’s just something about the lyrics of a hometown boy who’s gone platinum without the backing of any major record label. It feels so…Seattle. So Seattle. I know that everyone feels some sort of nostalgia for their hometown, but there’s something magical about this city…the rugged individualism of a pioneer spirit that still exists in this Emerald City. It’s really that Emerald City…elusive, magical, buildings that fade into trees and trees that fade into buildings.


Maybe it’s because we’re relatively the same age, but when Macklemore sings about the Mariners, in My Oh My, I get choked up. While not an overwhelming baseball fan, I remember that year. I remember later years when I sat with my grandma and chewed Double Bubble and watched the M’s play.

My oh My another victory yes, my city my city.
Childhood my life watchin’ Griffey right under those lights


In the sunshine months the city comes alive, with natives and transplants and visitors. The past few days I’ve been listening to Macklemore and driving around the city with Potamus looking for watering holes to splash in. The lyrics “My city, my city, childhood that’s right,” go through my head on repeat.



Beneath the Space Needle, in the shadow of Mt. Rainier, and a stone’s throw from the Puget Sound. I have summer memories of the Pacific Science Center and eating lunch by the fountain. Today we splashed in the fountain ourselves and I felt a part of something bigger. A connection to MY PEOPLE here. The quirky PacNwer’s who make their home in the city or carry it in their hearts when they’re far away. There’s something about this place that changes us.




Every time somebody steps out on the road
They bring a little Northwest soul with them, amen

My city.
My childhood.
Potamus’s city.
His childhood.

It’s Good Medicine that Chief Sealth would of been proud of
This is our city, town pride, heart, blood, sweat, tears, I-5, North, South side, vibe, live, ride down these city blocks
And never will be stopped

Pool Hack…getting through record breaking temperatures!

summer in the city? It's only May!

summer in the city? It’s only May!

Yesterday Seattle beat it’s former heat record by 7 degrees, leaving the city both loving and loathing the 86 degree sunshine. If this isn’t a sign of global warming, I’m not sure what is…AND, I’m nervous for the notorious summer week of above 90 degree days in houses with no air conditioning. One year it was so miserable that we went and stayed with Boof’s parents (who do have air-conditioning), because I was threatening (slightly) divorce.

I didn’t have time on my way home from work to stop by a store and get one of those obnoxiously overpriced and cumberson wading pools that every drugstore is selling (though, after yesterday, they’re probably sold out), so, instead, I used a pool-hack that we used camping as kids: a plastic bin with a garden hose and an assortment of measuring cups and lids as flotation objects.


He was basically in heaven. He was only grumpy when I wasn’t helping him get in the tub fast enough! After thirty minutes of fun he was too cold (little shivers), so we went inside, warmed up (took about thirty seconds) ate some dinner and then he was back at it!


There was just something so purely childlike and magical about his exploration of the garden hose and using the measuring cups to sprinkle water on himself and trying to pour from one bucket to the other.


And, in typical fickle Seattle fashion, the weather this morning is cold, cloudy and slightly misty. Maybe my fears of a hot, dry, miserable summer are unfounded. So at least we grabbed the sunny day by the horns and made the most of it!

Water Babies

As a kid, I was obsessed with the water. Even the word obsessed doesn’t quite do it justice. I mean, OBSESSED. Like, I would pitch a fit if we came anywhere near anything that looked like I could splash around or possibly swim in…penny fountains in the mall, drying up wading pools full of half decaying leaves come September, rushing glacial rivers…anything. For the most part (aside from the rushing glacial rivers), my mom (the primary caregiver during such outings as to the mall and playgrounds with wading pools) indulged in my obsession. Not sure how she mustered up the patience to deal with a kid so obsessed with the water…especially since I was also obsessed with wearing dresses. Well, not to the level of obsession as I was the water, but a close second. So there I would be, in a muddy wading pool, splashing around with my dress billowing up around my shoulders. Sigh.

Truthfully, I blame my dad.

He had me in the water, swim lessons since I was Potamus’s age. He’d take me down to the athletic club before work and we’d swim around together before he’d head off to do Dad-Things and I went back home to spend time with mom. As I got older, I was mostly-fearless in the water (something I can’t say for the rest of my life), and would hurl my 18 month old body off the side of the pool and into my dad’s arms. I’d tiptoe out to the diving board’s edge and launch myself off, trusting that my dad would catch me. He always did.

In camping lakes there were water-wings and saltwater sandals and plenty of pictures of my dad holding my arms and twirling me around or trying to teach me the crawl. While we always had “offical’ swim leassons and eventually joined swim team, these moments with my dad are the ones I remember the best. His healthy attitude and love for the water got passed down to me. Mostly mom had to deal with it, though, as she disliked the water from a near-drowning incident as a child, but shlepped us to-and-fro to parks with wading pools, and spent countless hours sitting by the club pool in the summer as we had swim team and then relaxed with 6 hours of playing mermaids in the pool afterward.

So, when Potamus was born, I just KNEW I wanted to at least give him the option of having a good relationship with water. Last weekend at the river was a great introduction to the wild wild world of water. So this weekend, I packed Potamus up sans Boof, and headed over the pass to spend the weekend with my parents. Potamus LOVED the pool, and it was very fun to see my dad get the opportunity to begin teaching him how to love water, just like he taught me.