It's funny the things that you realize about your childhood only after having kids. And by funny things, I mean realizing that kids are self-centered assholes. So the a big focus of my parenting has been to find and encourage patience and thoughtfulness. In myself. Most of the time I can see it.
Growing up my parents made it a priority to take us to the beach for one week each summer. We typically went with my father's entire family, including cousins and grandparents. It was the HIGHLIGHT of my life until I turned 15. (Then driving ANYWHERE became the highlight of my life).
In preparation for the glorious week of sun and sand and squealing, each summer, as the date neared, our small dining room would turn into the staging ground for the things-that-only-happen-at-the-beach: cases of soda, candy bars, bags of chips, those miniature boxes of cereal that come in a variety pack, the list goes on. All things that were not bought the other 51 weeks of the year.
As the piles of bacchanalian supplies grew, so did the anticipation and excitement to GET TO THE BEACH. I had trouble sleeping. I was not allowed to wear any clothes that were going to be packed. Everything was organized and prepped and ready to go and it was painfully, ecstatically, dangling in my future. I dreamed of the boardwalk, the waves, a week with so much adult attention, and all of the food!!!
Needless to say it was always amazing, the week always flew by, and I accumulated so many happy memories; enough to provide a lifetime of smiles and eager summer months. So now, as a grown adult, when I take my children to the beach, it is those memories that sustain me.
They sustain me through:
Growing up my parents made it a priority to take us to the beach for one week each summer. We typically went with my father's entire family, including cousins and grandparents. It was the HIGHLIGHT of my life until I turned 15. (Then driving ANYWHERE became the highlight of my life).
In preparation for the glorious week of sun and sand and squealing, each summer, as the date neared, our small dining room would turn into the staging ground for the things-that-only-happen-at-the-beach: cases of soda, candy bars, bags of chips, those miniature boxes of cereal that come in a variety pack, the list goes on. All things that were not bought the other 51 weeks of the year.
As the piles of bacchanalian supplies grew, so did the anticipation and excitement to GET TO THE BEACH. I had trouble sleeping. I was not allowed to wear any clothes that were going to be packed. Everything was organized and prepped and ready to go and it was painfully, ecstatically, dangling in my future. I dreamed of the boardwalk, the waves, a week with so much adult attention, and all of the food!!!
Needless to say it was always amazing, the week always flew by, and I accumulated so many happy memories; enough to provide a lifetime of smiles and eager summer months. So now, as a grown adult, when I take my children to the beach, it is those memories that sustain me.
They sustain me through:
- Combing through listings of 47,129 beach house listings for ones that are a) close to the beach, b) not gross, c) allow dogs, d) have enough beds, e) are not hideously expensive, and and f) available the actual week we manage to all be off of whatever we're usually on (work, school, black tar heroin, etc.)
- Buying all of the items for the dining room stockpile o' junk
- Lists
- More lists
- Washing all of the clothes
- Realizing no one's bathing suit fits from last year and doing more shopping
- Answering 5 million questions about exactly when we are going to the beach (these kids need a calendar)
- Staging and packing all of the clothes
- Getting yelled at that there are no clean clothes because they're all packed (sure, you only have 7 outfits to your name...mmmhmmm)
- Cramming, carrying, folding, and tetris-ing all of the things into the back of the car.
- Doing all of that without losing my temper (HAHAHAHA)
- Making it to the beach without choking anyone who asks how much longer until we get there
- Unpacking everyone
- Making beds
- Telling small people, that you do in fact realize that the ocean is RIGHT THERE, however you're still busy unloading the car and cannot escort right this second
- Braving the grocery store for the 19 items that you still need and ice
- Hating the grocery store for the 19 lines of 5 customers each waiting to check out
- Hating yourself for hating the grocery store
- Unpacking all of the groceries and then answering 500 questions about where the snacks are
