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Browsing Tag: beach

Considering That I’m Still Finding Sand Everywhere, Yes

So much has happened this summer, and at the same time…so much hasn’t happened. I had a list a mile long of everything I wanted to to do with the kids the past 10 weeks or so: trips to the lake. Hiking the Appalachian Trail. I vowed that we’d spend so many days at the pool the kids would actually become bored with it. And then, as it usually does, summer happened. We did, though, we did, go to the pool. No hikes, though. And no lake trips, even though we have three within forty-five minutes of us. Can’t explain that one. But we went to the beach and touched dolphins and we rode on an airplane. The kids drew and played and drew some more and hardly ever, ever, watched an electronic device. They stayed up late and slept in and rode roller coasters and saw sharks and ate raw oysters and ran in the rain. They played in sand and jumped waves and ate funnel cake still hot from the fryer. They decided that they want to live in Florida, but only if they can stay close to Winter…

It’s Like the Commercial

You know what I like about vacation?  The jittery feeling I get when I feel like I should be doing something, but when I look around I realize that all I really need to do is sit my rear end in that deck chair and read.  It’s that brief moment of stumped awkwardness before I start to relax, and, like that moment a roller coaster car pauses at the crest of the hill before starting its exhilarating  free-for-all descent, it is awesome.

I was sitting on the deck of our rented condo one afternoon, drinking a Corona (a beer I think I have only accepted happily on three occasions:  a) on vacation, any vacation, any summer, b) while camping in Key West during my spring break senior year, where I was dirt poor and Corona meant living large, and c) any Jimmy Buffett show I’ve attended at any point in my 20s–I’d like to admit here that I was dragged, kicking and screaming, to these shows, but alas, I went by choice and tailgated with the best of them.  Shhh.  Don’t tell anybody).  As I drank this beer, reclining in my (well, for the week, anyway) Adirondack rocker, I could smell the wonderful saltiness of an ocean breeze blowing through my wildly not-sexy beachy hair (why do all the magazines think salt-soaked hair is soooo gorgeous?!  Have they seen my mop?), and I was very aware:  my kids were sleeping inside, the sun was shining, I was outside, and I had nothing to do.  

I got to sit out on a deck and listen to the seagulls and not worry about laundry and dishes and scrubbing the toilet.

I got to wear my swimsuit, around, all day long.  Take that, proper etiquette!

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Packing.  Packing is the worst.  Packing takes one week of laundry, cleaning, planning, list-making, shopping, sweating.  Packing means that my children will not be paid any attention (“You’re hungry?  Eh, here’s a loaf of bread, kid.  Have at it.”), nor will they venture out of the four brick walls of our house because dammitmommy’s busy. We went on vacation last week.  Do I sound relaxed? David gathered his clothes in 10 minutes flat, then spent another mere 20 packing up the car, alternating between cursing and asking me if really, do the kids really need to take this many toys?  We were going to the beach for a week–we would be outside, swimming and playing in the sand and running and flying kites.  But what if it rained, I said?  What if we’re stuck inside?  They have to have toys (and books and DVDS and coloring books and crayons…right?  Right?).  We battled.  I won.  (And then it rained the first night there.  Nah-nee-nah-nee-boo-boo…) So, off we went.  It took five hours to get to the beach (four for driving…