Happy 4th of July!
For the first time all summer, it finally feels like a holiday.
My father works in the car business, and rarely has a holiday off, so when we learned that he had Independence Day off, we decided to take a jaunt to the beach to celebrate.
The beach parking lots fill up quickly on holidays, so we opted to go early and stake out a spot. Our summer mornings, and our coastline in general, is known for being fogged in and windy until the afternoon, so we layered on sweatshirts over our shorts and t-shirts and loaded the car with toys and beach blankets and cabana things I got on clearance at Target and, well, from the sheer volume of stuff we had, we needed that sherpa I've been moaning about.
Figuring my sister would do nicely, my mom and I engaged in a verbal rock-scissors-paper match and I won the right to take good old Auntie in our car (and thereby secured her as a Sherpa/Nanny. Heh.)
After a quick jaunt into the grocery store for sandwiches and snacks, we drove the 20 minutes to the beach and began shlepping through the soft sand, draped with dangling bags of gear and goodies.
While the kids began playing in a pre-dug bunker, my parents arrived and we set up our cheapo Target cabana things, which only took 15 minutes and 7 sets of hands and a minor amount of cursing.
From that point, I just sort of sagged into the day. We were blessed with beautiful, clear, calm weather, and more than enough hands to keep an eye on the kids. I lay on our awesome Milk Factory blanket, listened to the sound of my happy children, walked at the water's edge and just r-e-l-a-x-e-d. I didn't feel like I was spread so thin that I couldn't snap back.
Hello, village? Come, join in, as we attempt to raise these children.
I got a nice wake up call in the form of another harried mother who spent the entire time b-i-t-c-h-i-n-g at her husband and three year old kid. Don't get sand on the blanket, come back over here, don't say that, be quiet now, you go with him... meh. It was hard to hear, and I know that I've been really guilty of the same dialog.
After the kids started falling asleep at the beach, we loaded everyone up in the car, and came home for naps. I napped greedily, drooling, limbs flung all over the place. It was beautiful, man.
*wipes tears of joy away*
My son just stumbled out from his nap, and said "Mommy, did we really go to the beach, or was it just my wonderful dream?"
Now, THAT is what vacation means.