I want to love it…Who doesn’t want to relish in the sand and the surf while watching their children frolic on the beach building sand castles? This mom just cant do it friends, because being at the beach is pure bliss…unless you are me!
Just in terms of personality I am just not a laid back enough person to sprawl out on my wet, sandy beach towel and enjoy the scenery while rolling with the punches (Christ so many punches.) I really did try today…but nope. The second we got close enough to even see the water, the beachy catastrophes began. First, we dragged four kids, a double stroller, countless life vests, toys, towels and snacks to our spot. After laying everything out we realized that we had camped directly in from of a giant pile of beach crap…you know, the raked up trash and dead fish from the night before.
SUPER! Let’s pack it all up and move twenty feet to the left! Cue angry, exasperated bitchy mommy…
Have you ever pushed a double stroller through the sand? It is an impossible task my friends. If you can do this without assistance, then you are my hero…or an avid steroid user. Nevertheless we did it, found the SECOND perfect spot and laid everything back out. Ahhhhh, here we go…vacation can begin. ..and it begins with the twins hating water.
They don’t care. They are two! Take them to a beach…they will hate the water. Hit up a restaurant with them…they will hate food. Take them to the movies…then you are smokin’ crack. That is just stupid. Two year olds care nothing for your beachy dreams friends. Luckily there was a park near this beach and the grammies that we had in tow took the little Queens of Anarchy up there to play, (aka try and kill themselves.)
Ok. NOW vacation can begin.
“Mom! Where are my googles?”
“These googles! I hate these goggles.”
F**k your goggles!
Then comes the fighting over sand toys, the bickering over the “best” googles, and everyone’s favorite…kids screaming “Mom, there is sand on me!” LORD HAVE MERCY WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF!!! Screw you beach! Play with your dad kids, I am going to the park with the twins and the grandmas. It has to be better up there right?
Yes! It was soooooo much better watching the little toddlers sing and climb on the play structure. It was a pocket of glorious peace for about ten whole minutes, until I caught a whiff of poop.
Shit. (See what I did there.) The wipes and diapers are a half a mile down the beach. That seems like quite a hike at this point. The toddler doesn’t seem to mind the poop, maybe I can take a page from her book and ignore it for a bit. I never claimed to be mom of the year friends.
What is that tiny little twinnie? You want to take a walk? Sure! That sounds dreamy. Twenty steps later…the toddler tries to climb a picnic table and eat a stranger’s french fries. No no little Helen Keller. You cannot do that. Aaaaaaaaaand cue toddler meltdown.
Oh Good. I was waiting for the culminating meltdown to really send me over the edge of sanity today. Yes strangers…that is my tiny child curled up in a ball crying on the sidewalk. What is that you say helpful stranger? Have I tried picking her up? Oh no, had not thought of THAT one. Oh course I tried to soothe the angry toddler laying on the sidewalk. I can not exercise the kid’s demons. The only thing that will quell her angst is that stranger’s french fries. Buy her some of her own you say? Not.the.same.thing. Ask any two year old you know. Toddlers are nothing if not irrational little dictators.
Ok. Done. I wanted to love this day so very badly. Really I had hoped to make summer memories with the family to last a lifetime. It just ain’t happening, therefore I am gonna throw in the beach towels, go home and have a little cry and cocktail on the porch.
We made it almost a whole hour at the beach. That seems about par for the course these days. Now to locate all of the adults in our parade and inform them of our impending departure. Next I must drag our beach crap ten thousand steps through sand to the sidewalk. Finally let’s finish out this sweet little trip by buckling possessed toddlers into the stroller, running home, feeding kids, swearing at sand, and trying to make lunch. Jesus! Next year we are going skiing for family vacation! (Skiing families are dying right now because even as I type this I know that shit is equally as bad.) Right now though I am convinced that sand is a product of SATAN and I will NEVER attempt the beach again.
Until tomorrow that is…because it’s family vacation!
Kristin McCarthy is a retired teacher turned SAHM of four little girls ages 8,6,2 and 2. Yes you read that correctly. She rounded out those childbearing years with wild little identical twins who are largely the inspiration for many of her blog posts. When she is not chasing small humans and vaccuming up her kids’ toys Kristin enjoys watching BRAVO, eating cheese and drinking craft beer. Lover of a good top knot, coffee and booze…hater of Thomas The Train and Caillou, Kristin resides in the Mitten with her husband and her little band of blonde misfits.
You can follow her chaos and parenting fails at www.fourprincessesandthecheese.com
twitter handle: TinMcCarthy
Kristin is a contributing writer at Suburban Misfit Mom