Where have all the good times gone?

I posted this as a(n) (un)healthy reminder to myself about how I really have to work hard to look and feel the way I do now. And to make my friends now pee in their pants laughing. If there was ever a wonder as to why I am such a freak about health, good diet and exercise.......

Swim Meet - Part 2

Just a couple more swimming shots.....

Tale of Two Swimmers

Last weekend was Katherine and Madeline's first real swimming tournament. Madeline was finally old enough, and Katherine had been sick for the last two. The both swim after school three days a week and just love it. I usually take a seat in the bleachers and just watch them go back and forth. It amazes me. I am never bored. I could do it for hours.

It is hard to get a sense of how "good" they are versus their peers as they swim lap after lap in one lane with about 6 or 7 kids. At any time there may be 30+ kids in the pool swimming at different levels, so talent is a little hard to spot. They both make it to the end, turn around, and swim back. It has been fun watching them both go from barely able to do a crawl, to learning the butterfly in just a few months.

We woke up early on Saturday and got ready for the meet. Katherine had two swim team friends sleep over, and we were all going together in our van. We packed up swimsuits, hats, goggles, towels, water, snacks, swim jackets, and sunscreen into their oversized Speedo swim bags. Seriously, I doubt if Michael Phelps was ever this prepared.

Katherine was scheduled to swim in 3 events (Crawl, Breast, Backstroke) and Madeline in 1 event (crawl). Madeline JUST turned 6 in December but swam with the 7 year olds as she turns 7 this year, and Katherine swam in the 10 year old group as she turns 10 in August.

The meet was scheduled to start at 0800, and being gringos, we arrived at 15 minutes till. Ahem. The kids started stretching at about 0820 and jumped in the pool for warmups at around 845. There were 5 teams participating — which meant there were about 200 kids from 6 - 18 years of age. The energy was excellent and everyone was in a wonderful mood.

Katherine's first event was the backstroke — not her best or favorite stroke. There were three heats at her age group for a total of 11 girls. Her heat only had three girls in it and one scratched so only two swam. She came in second. I was jumping and screaming so loud you would have thought it was the Olympic Games. All heats get medals, so she got a silver. I was so proud.

The kids mostly stayed together in the covered court area behind the pool, but were allowed to visit their parents in the bleachers. Several minutes after her age group had finished their race, she came over to me and looked very sad. She laid down on my lap and would not tell me what was wrong. I held her and wondered if she had gotten into an argument with one of her friends. After a while, she said she had something to tell me. She said that the coaches had posted a list of her age group and overall, she had gotten second to last in the overall rankings. She was devastated.

My heart broke in a million pieces. My beautiful, precious angel, of whom I am so proud to be her mother, was so very sad. I sat stunned for a minute. I had had no idea of her ranking (and quite frankly did not care), and had no idea it would bother her so much.

I held her for a few minutes, took a deep breath, and cleared my head. I had watched this little girl work tirelessly three hours a week, without fail, and with very little complaint. I knew she loved swimming, and had made tremendous improvements since we moved here in August. I also knew that she had two more events to swim, and would likely have a similar showing in both. I gave her a huge hug, prayed for divine inspiration, and said, "Katherine, forget about those girls. You are only here to race against you. Your only goal should be to beat your best time. I am so proud of you."

That seemed to work, as she kissed me, climbed off my lap, and went to play with her friends. My heart shattered as I watched her walk away.

Madeline swam next. The 7 year old crawl race was to begin. Those girls were little bitty. Madeline weighs 42 pounds so you can just imagine what she looked like on the edge of that pool. Knowing Katherine's outcome, I steeled myself for the worst. Knowing Madeline's personality, she would not be as graceful of a loser.

They blew the whistle and those babies lined up on the edge. The buzzer went off and they all looked a little scared for a minute then jumped into the water. That was the longest and most exciting arms flailing, legs kicking, 34 seconds of my life. It was pretty close at first, then Maddie took the lead and won it. The whole Chevron family was there screaming their heads off (as we had all done for each other's kids). It was just so cute. She got a gold medal for her heat, but placed 4th or 5th in her age group - and I could have cared less.

Katherine swam the 50 meter crawl in 53 seconds. She beat her best time by 2 seconds and executed a perfect flip turn, much to the surprise of her screaming mother. She placed last in her age group, but seemed to be very happy about her performance. I breathed a sigh of relief that there seemed to be no long term psychological damage.

The toughest part of the day was waiting for the relays.

Being neophytes to the swim meet phenomenon, we did not realize that everyone does not swim the relay. Katherine thought that she would as there were only 4 girls from our school in the 10 year old division. It turns out that her relay was for 9 and 10 year olds and the coaches picked the ones with the best times, but we did not know that.

Right before the relay, she walked up to her coach and asked him if she could swim. I realized that the answer was likely going to be no, but she had insisted on trying. I stood behind her, waiting to pick up the pieces after the bad news.

Her coach looked at her and I swear I thought he was going to cry. He gave her a big hug and kiss and told her that no, she was not going to swim. I almost had a breakdown, but then she turned around and said, "Mom, lets go watch them swim." She was completely OK. She shook it off and walked away and I don't think I have ever been prouder of her in my life. We went out for sushi to celebrate and the three of us snuggled up together in my bed as Chris was in Aspen skiing with his buddies.

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. I was so worried about her. It seems that she can't get a break of late. Chris and I made the gut wrenching decision to hold her back in third grade this year - and though we don't regret it, it has been hard on her self esteem. I did not realize how much until we were headed home for Christmas break and she pulled me aside and asked me not to tell her Galveston friends she was still in the third grade. She is now struggling with passing her timed multiplication tests - AND the results are posted on the wall of the classroom. Since we moved here she has been dealing with/teased about warts, her permanent teeth coming in yellow (both of which we have resolved), having to make all new friends, etc...

They don't give awards or medals in the third grade for what she is best at. Kindness. Selflessness. Peacemaker. Super snuggler. Best hug. Easiest to love. Most likely to be nice to the geek. Most likely to not be involved in catty classroom drama. Most likely to consider the common good before making a decision. Most likely to be the best friend you ever had. Pure hard work and dedication to a task that at best earns her a B+.

The next morning was Sunday and we had the breast stroke to finish. I gave Katherine the option of bailing, but she held her head up and said that she wanted to go. We loaded up and headed back to the school. Her race was called, she dove off the platform, swam her heart out, and finished last again. She cheered her friends on to their victories and went home with a smile on her face.

Motherhood 101. God, I love those girls.

The Pitfalls of the All Inclusive........

We just got back from our vacation to Panama.

It was good to see a bit of the country and we did drive over the Panama Canal twice.

That was cool.

We flew from Caracas to Panama City. When I planned it it thought, "Great, its only a 2 hour flight, we will be in and out of there in no time. Well, as they say, the best laid plans......

We were scheduled to leave on Friday at 4:15 pm from the Maquitiua Airport, which, in no traffic, takes about 45 minutes to get there. I decided to pull the kids out of school at noon to have plenty of time to fight the usual traffic at that time of day, and get to the airport within the recommended 2 hour early travel window for international flights.

Surprise. There was a Chavista march scheduled to leave from the Cubo Negro where Chris works and march down to the presidential palace. Our original plan was for me and the kids to leave school and then meet Chris at the office and all of us go together. The crowds from the demonstration were huge and it was considered to be a little dangerous for us to travel down there. We decided for Chris to come to school to meet us. Getting out of the Cubo was a struggle due to the marching protesters, then it turns out that the exit for the kids school was blocked and they were having to detour all over the place. What should have taken 10 minutes was looking like it might take a couple of hours, so we decided to bail on meeting up and take separate cars to the airport.

The march happened to be on the other side of the river from where we were in Caracas, and I valiantly tried to tear my kids away from their IPods so witness this historic event, but they just were not interested. Once out past the march, the traffic lessened, and we got to the airport at about 1:45.

We easily checked in and then went into the line for passport control. It was jam packed with people and I think the lines were worse than at Christmas (which is hard to do). It took over an hour to get through the passport line and finally we were at the gate. We boarded at the right time, but sat on the runway for an hour before takeoff.

Finally at 5:15 the plane took off. We landed at around 7:30 and looked around for a man holding the Decameron sign. We found him easily and he took us to a desk where we had to pay $48 a person for the bus to take us to the airport. It seems that the resort is about 115 km away from Panama City...... Oh, and what usually takes 90 minutes, might take longer because it IS Carnival, and the traffic is very bad.

We loaded up the kids on the bus (small, nice, and air conditioned) and took off for our resort. It was night time and we did not get to see much of the city. We rolled over the canal and got a glimpse of the famous bridge that spans it. After 2.5 hours, we finally arrived. It was about 10:00.

The lobby was nice, and the place was HUGE... It was sprawling, and billed itself as an eco-resort. Our building was the very last one on the end, but there were so many pools and restaurants that we never felt like we were too far away from anyone. The restaurant/buffets closed at 10:30 so we threw our stuff in the room and ran down to the buffet. The buffets were OK. I mean, I have had buffets at the Galvez, and at the Plaza so those are my gold standards. These were somewhere between those and Golden Corral. They also cater to a lot of different cultures. Our hotel was thick with Europeans and wealthy South Americans, and there were a ton of French Canadians.

The resort had 49 buildings to house people in and sprawled out over about a mile of beach. It was beautifully landscaped and was built into a hillside so there were tons of steps everywhere. There were 8 pools lining the beach and each one had some type of entertainment. The one closest to us had a man who played karaoke flute (like the Zamfir flute) and kept trying to sell us CD's. He played for 3 - 4 hours every afternoon. He was dressed like an American Indian and hung up a blanket of Sitting Bull in front of his table/stage. I am no historian, but I am pretty sure that Sitting Bull never made it that far south?

The next pool had the "activities team" running conga lines and shooting the tourists with water guns, all while playing nonstop pulsating latin american beats.

On the last day we found the pool that played, "Shake It Like a Pom-Pom" over and over again, so we hung out there on the last day.

To sum things up, it was like being on a big Carnival Cruise ship, just stuck on land.... The food was about the same, the people were definitely the same, we had fun, but don't want to go back. Our plane left Panama at 11:45, so they made us take the 5:30 am bus out of the resort to get to the airport by 8:00. Unfortunately, it was again dark for most of our drive through Panama and we did not get to see much of the country.

I think we are just an EcoLodge, adventure tour kind of family. Below is a video compilation of our recent trips to the beach. Next stop, the Galapagos Islands.

Here is the link to You Tube:

Travel Plans

Good morning Caracas.

This is the view from my window this morning. Despite crazy dictators, crumbling infrastructure, soaring crime rates and recession, we have a great life here.

Water rationing is not that bad. You just need good planning. We have running water 6 hours a day - 2 in the morning, 2 at noon, and 2 in the evening. My kids are experts in hand sanitizer, timing bathroom breaks and do not argue with me at bath time.

Thank you to everyone for your outpouring of love and support after our beach adventure. It was rough the first week, but after Chris got home, the girls seemed to realize that I was not going to go anywhere and settled down back into their routines. We have a healthy respect for rip tides and are officially back to normal.

Last night was my favorite Mardi Gras ball in Galveston. So many of the people I love most in the world were there, dressed up, happy, laughing, dancing, gorgeous. Mardi Gras is one of the things I love most about Galveston. I even got a super fabulous action shot from the ball from good friends around midnight (shout out to S and T).

There is a celebration here in South America equivalent to our Mardi Gras. It is called Carnival. Monday and Tuesday are a national holiday in most countries here and Venezuela is no exception. Caracas does not have a large celebration, and most people who can leave the city for the beaches. The Havers are no exception.

On Friday, we are pulling the kids out of school early and flying to Panama City. Why Panama?We waited until November to make a decision about where to go for the holiday, and that turned out to be quite late. We could not get a flight to Miami, Houston, and all of the beach posadas in Venezuela were booked. I told Chris to get us flights SOMEWHERE and I would figure out the rest. So Panama was the lucky winner. It is a nice direct flight and not very long. After we got tickets I searched for hotels and found the Decameron Resort All Inclusive.

The Decameron is one of those Mega Resorts with 50 buildings, 10 restaurants, activity directors etc. We went online to Trip Advisor and got the scoop on the hotel (after we had booked it and paid in full). It is not the Four Seasons, but it should be fine.

Speaking of travel, the next few months are going to be very busy for the Haver family. It seems like we have trip after trip scheduled and I could not be happier. Chris is joining the Galveston Guys annual ski trip to Aspen.

On March 20, Jim and Rosemary Haver arrive for a month long visit. Chevron is rolling out the red carpet for them and setting them up with a car, driver, and phone while they are here. Of course, they have to attend a security briefing on the day after they arrive.

They day before they arrive, Chris is leaving for Buenos Aries for a business meeting. After getting the Havers acclimated to our schedule with the kids, I am flying to meet Chris for a few days of kid-less fun in Argentina. Sadly, this is the first time in our marriage since we had kids that I have been able to join him on a business trip!

On March 29 through April 5, the Havers (all 4 plus J and R) leave for Quito, Ecuador and then fly to Galapagos Islands for cruise around the islands. This is one of our dream vacations and you cannot imagine how excited we are. We discovered ITunes has lots of documentaries and BBC/NOVA specials on the Galapagos and we have downloaded them and are watching them in preparation for our trip.

Ciao for now. We have to get ready for the Superbowl! Lots of Saints fans here.

How to Write About a Near Death Experience

We all know that we are going to die someday.

You don't know when, or how, or why it is going to happen, only that it is.

I really have never worried much about it. My family is healthy and death is something that happens to old people after long, happy lives. The only exception is my brother Jep. He battled leukemia most of his life and died after a long illness at 18. I was eight.

My story begins in Venezuela, at a Siete Mares Ecoposada. A large group of Chevron families decided to take advantage of a school holiday and book a long weekend on the northern coast of Venezuela. Many of them had visited the posada in years past and told us how wonderful it was. I went alone with the kids as Chris was attending his goddaughter's baptism in San Francisco that weekend.

Siete Mares means "seven seas" and was named for the seven beaches/coves that lie to the west of the posada. These coves are now only accessible by hiking from our beach, over hills and rocks. Each beach is 50 - 100 yards long and absolutely breathtaking and unspoiled.

A large group of us decided to hike over to one of the coves on Saturday morning. We were armed with kids, boogie boards, sunscreen, water and towels. After hiking for a while, we settled on a gorgeous beach with very few rocks near the shore. It was a gorgeous day. The waves were large, and the teenagers took off into the water for boogie boarding and body surfing. The smaller kids stayed near the shore and enjoyed the waves and sand. The parents took turns surfing, relaxing, and keeping an eye out for the kids.

Body surfing is a fabulous experience. I swam out with the teenagers and tried to ride the waves in without a board. I was standing in water up to my chest, and the waves were cresting over our heads. As the waves would get closer, we would start swimming towards shore, hoping to be caught by the crest of the wave and have our bodies propelled forward under the force of the water. We were tossed as often as we rode, but always came up laughing and spraying water.

As I was coming out of the water and making my way back to shore, I glanced up and saw my daughters playing near the shore. I happened to look to my right, and noticed two other little girls were on boogie boards and looked as if they were getting a little close to the rocks at the end of the cove.


I started walking in their direction through the waves. My intention was to tell them to not play so close to the rocks.

As I got closer, I could see that the girls were rapidly floating further offshore and towards the rocks. I started running. The girls were moving back so quickly I had to change my trajectory in order to reach them. When the water was up to my waist, I dove and started swimming towards the girl who was in the greatest danger. The waves were starting to crest about two feet above my head.

When I reached her I grabbed onto her boogie board and tried to stand up. When my feet could not touch the bottom, my heart started pounding. I knew it would be tough, but I still thought I could tow her back to shore. I yelled at her to start kicking and started trying to pull her out of harm's way.

It was then that I felt the current. Despite my best efforts, we were being pulled between two huge rocks into a blind alley lined with huge boulders, crashing waves, and no way out. I started screaming for help. Waves were crashing over us, pushing us closer and closer to the rocks and I was using all of my strength just keeping us in a stationary position.

I was somehow able to swing her around so she was in front of me, and between waves, pushed her as hard as I could towards the shore. By some miracle, I could see her father who was able to grab onto the board and eventually was able to get her back to the shore and to safety.

As every action has an equal an opposite reaction, pushing the little girl towards shore had propelled me back between the rocks.

The current continued to pull me and I continued to fight. I was incredibly focused on survival. I was swimming as hard as I could, frustrated by the fact that I could not get out of the current. The waves were at least 4 feet over my head, occasionally bashing me into the rocks, but I was able to push off of them and stay afloat. As the next wave approached, I decided to dive under rather than be carried towards the rock.

As I came up from the wave I realized my good friend, K, was in the water next to me. Her face was blank with terror and I could see her spitting out sea water. She is not a strong swimmer. I knew it was likely suicide, but I had to help her. I realized that I could barely save myself, but I was going to try to save us both. I tried to reach her, and may have caught her hand at one point, but the waves were making it impossible to see or make sense of what direction we needed to go. Panic began to really sink in. I was contemplating life without my dear friend, as I was certain she was going to drown as I was not strong enough to help her.

In that instant, I looked up and another friend R had appeared. I felt like it was a miracle. K had a chance. R had been trying to reach us and was clipped by a wave and pulled out into the current. R has been a swimmer her whole life. She had been working out on a weekly basis with the ECA swimming coach and was up to 2,000 meters a session. She has extensive training in water safety/survival. Seeing her was like seeing her was like seeing an angel. She got to K, and I realized I could focus on getting myself to safety.

R started screaming for a board. One of the guys was able to throw one to me, and I kept trying to throw it to R and K, but wave action kept ripping it out of my hands, or throwing it back to me. I threw the board one last time, and realized I could not see K and R anymore. I had no idea what happened to them. The board was taken by the current to the alley of death.

I was again being pulled between the two large rocks. I started swimming for my life. But I was not going anywhere.

I soon understood that the best I could do was stay out from between the rocks, but not fight the current back to shore. I was quickly exhausted. I mean really really exhausted. I have never been so physically and emotionally tired in my entire life. My muscles all felt like rubber. Panic ebbed out of me like a sieve and I started thinking more clearly. About drowning stories I had read. About leaving my kids without a mother. About my husband. About the little girl I hoped was safe and out of the water. About the friends I could not see anymore and thought might have drowned. About how fast these things happen. About how it was likely I was going to die.

I looked up and saw a third friend, S, in the water behind me. She had the same blank look that K wore when I saw her. She too had tried to help, and underestimated the waves and current. It was her little girl I had ultimately saved, and she could see me struggling for my life. Against her better judgement, she had come into the water to see what she could do. Seeing her sharpened my focus and redirected my energy. I was no longer alone, and I was not going to let her die.

At this point, some of the men had climbed onto the rocks above us and were yelling at us to climb onto the rocks. Of course, climb the rocks and get out of the water. I had focus and I had a plan. I let the waves push me over to the rock I had fought so hard to stay away from. As the waves threw us onto the rocks, I grasped with all of my might to find a hand hold before the wave pulled me off again. The rock was too slippery and the waves too strong.

Somehow, I was able to grab S and drag her to the next rock further out. This rock has spent more time in wave action, and was was pock-marked with holes which were very sharp, but climbable. The wave pushed me onto the rock, and I reached out with my hands, but was pulled off again. The next wave pushed me to the lateral side of the rock and I was able to grab on. I held on with the tips of my fingers and helped S climb up above me. During the next wave I braced myself and grabbed as hard as I could. I was pulled off again, but learned the secret to hanging on.

When the next wave slammed me into the rock, I used the tips of my fingers to dig into the pock marks and held on. I was nearly ripped off the rock, but I made it. I started screaming at S to climb higher, so I could get out of the wave action as much as possible. By sheer force of will, I pulled my body up the rock and held on with my fingers and legs while the waves did their worst. Once S was able to climb out of the worst of the wave zone, I quickly followed.

I looked down at myself. My legs were a bleeding mess, and my finger nails were all ripped out to the nail beds, but I could have cared less. I had made it out out of the water, and was sitting on a rock, in the middle of the ocean, clinging for dear life while waves crashed around us, but I was certain I was not going to die.

I looked onto shore and could see Katherine standing there crying and screaming for me. One of the other Moms had their arms around her and was trying to console her. I pasted a smile on my face and gave her a huge thumbs-up sign. I started yelling that I was OK and there was nothing to worry about.

S and I could have cared less if we lived the rest of our lives on that rock. After a few mintues, one of the men had climbed onto the large rock in front of us (that was too slippery for us to climb). They had brought wood they had found onshore and were trying to build a bridge. They had even brought me shoes to see if it would help me navigate the rocks back to the shore. N was sitting on the rock ahead of me and we started timing the waves. During the trough, it seemed that I could jump down to a small ledge between the two big rocks and then he could help me up to his rock.

I could not stand seeing Katherine so upset, so I went for it. I easily made it up the rock and another Dad was waiting on the other side. I could see him standing in about 4 feet of water and he was doing fine. I jumped into his arms, then into the water and ran straight to Katherine crying on the shore.

I threw my arms around my precious baby girl and reassured her that I was fine. She was holding onto me for dear life. After a couple of minutes, she was able to let me go and I looked for my other daughter Madeline. I could see her playing in the sand, oblivious to what has just happened. I looked up and saw K and realized she had not drowned. I ran to her for a hug.

I walked away from the crowd, suddenly numb. I could not cry. My stomach was cramping and I felt nauseated. The nausea passed, but I could not stand up straight. Everything felt surreal. Was this really happening? Did I really drown and this was all a dream? After a few minutes, my pulse and respirations returned to normal.

Everyone made it out safe. We all ceremoniously got back into the water in the safe area for a few minutes so the kids would not be too traumatized. We then hiked back to the lodge. We only have a few bumps and bruises and cuts to show for ourselves. It has only been a couple of days, and I am still having flashbacks, and frightening myself with "what if" scenarios, but it is getting better with time.

What have I learned?

I love children, my friends, my husband, and my family. I will, for the rest of my life, continue to surround myself with good people who would do the same for my child if they were in danger. I am powerful and strong, and eternally grateful to Tony Horton and P90X for the strength to pull myself up the rocks, but I will take a water survival course.

I do not consider myself an overtly religious person, but I have absolute certainty that God was with me that day. Later that night, we were sitting around the pool, drinking wine and reexaming the facts of the day. I had to go to the bathroom and walked alone to the closest one. I thought someone was following me, and turned around, but no one was there. I walked into the bathroom and took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a little stress relief. I felt arms around me, as if someone was standing behind me giving me a hug. I opened my eyes and no one was there. I immediately thought of Jep, my brother who died so long ago. I then knew that he was there too.

There were many people involved that day, and these are only my recollections - recorded under extreme duress, so some of the details are still a little fuzzy. Everyone was a hero that day.