So we went to the beach the other day. First beach day of the season.
That was fun.
And THAT was sarcastic.
It was basically a shit show that started with an endless hammering of “are we there yet?” Followed (alarmingly quickly) by “Can we leave, we’re bored.” In between those two moments of joy there was a fun conversation with my 6 year old about how much she hates the beach.
Going to the beach isn’t like it used to be when all I had to worry about was if my baby oil was applied evenly, and whether or not I should have brought my aluminum reflector.
Going to the beach with kids is totally different.
The first time we attempted the beach with little kids I knew we were at a level of hell previously unexplored. We had our little ones (I think there were only three of them at the time) sunscreened to the nines. We had a little kid beach tent, and a beach umbrella. I was either hugely pregnant or had recently given birth (either way, I was sporting a super awesome skirt bathing suit.) I saw every beach danger around us, and I was on HIGH alert. My husband, on the other hand, was not. He laid out our beach blanket, put his own beach towel ever so gingerly on top of it, and before I could say “do you want to take the first shift or should I?” he had laid his head down and closed his eyes. Closed his damn eyes. At the beach. With little kids. I was all: No. Uh uh. Tell me you did NOT just attempt a state of relaxation while we are basically at death’s door.
And he was a little bit like: What? We’re at the beach! Are you flipping kidding me right now?
We exchanged these pleasantries without either of us ever uttering a word. It was strictly eye rolls and knowing nods and a few “it figures” puffs of breath, with a couple of “You’re crazy” “No, YOU’RE the crazy one!” faces thrown in for good measure. It looked like this:
It was awesome. We may have even driven the whole way home in the hugest silent fight ever.
We’ve come a long way since then.
Now, when we silently speak to each other about our beach trip, we’re commiserating.
We’ve been to this beach no less than 20 million times, and these fools STILL don’t know how long it takes to get here?!
They heard me say “Everyone is in charge of grabbing their own towel for the beach.” Right? Why is it that we have a combined total of 3 towels among the 7 of us?
If she doesn’t stop her incessant talking I’m going to fling myself into the ocean.
Why the hell is he rolling in the sand after we JUST told them to rinse off?
Did we bring any alcohol?
They want one of us to go in the water with them. Rock paper scissors. Best out of three.
They want to leave. We JUST got here, and they are saying they are bored. That’s it. We are never coming to the beach again. Ever.
And so we spend the whole ride home trying really hard not to do this: