We woke up bright and early on Sunday morning, packed up the van, and hit the road, all smiles and giggles, and full of high expectations for our beach trip. We had prepped the kids that the drive would be long but assured them that we had plenty of snacks, coloring books, and music to make the time pass quickly. I kid you not, literally less than five minutes into the drive, Caleb says, "Are we at the beach yet?" To which I responded by giving him a quizzical look (as in, I know you didn't just ask that when we are just now turning out of the neighborhood) and saying, "No, we have a few more hours to go still." Five minutes later, "When will we be there?" I thought that when kids did that in movies, it was just an overused stereotype of today's impatient kids. Apparently, it is actually an innate urge that compels kids to ask their parental units if they had arrived at their final destination...every...five...minutes. It was like that all the way to the beach. Throw in some unplanned detours for potty breaks and such, and you have our drive to the beach.
Once we finally arrived (about 8 hours and 2,841 questions later), we quickly checked-in, and all changed into our swimsuits. Once in the pool, Tony and I all too quickly learned what our three days at the beach would be: all hands on deck, 100% alert at all times. Wren, feeling over confident when she saw Caleb swimming in the deeper water, decided she could try it too...except she didn't tell anyone. My attention had been darting back and forth between Wren and Judson, and she decided to make a break for it when I was helping Judson with something. When I turned my gaze back to her, she was in too deep and struggling under the water. Talk about your heart stopping. I quickly snatched her out of the water, and she instantly started coughing and crying and yelling, "Mommy, I almost drowned!" Yes, sweetheart, I realized that (and so does everyone at the pool now). My goodness, that was scary (for all of us)! The rest of our time at the pool and the beach had more search and rescues than an all-weekend binge of Bay Watch, but we all survived. That two parents to three kids ratio is tough anywhere but especially in and around water. Caleb did actually do some really good swimming even in the deep water, and Wren, despite her earlier scare, mustered up the bravery to practice her swimming too. A big wave toppled Judson the first day (and also demanded he sacrifice his toy car he was clutching to the sea gods), so he refused to go past the shallow end in the pool or the beach. I had envisioned that there would at least be some time where we would be able to sit on the beach and read a novel while our kids played at our feet in the sand, but alas, that did not come into fruition (and perhaps it was a bit naïve of me to expect it).
When we weren't at the pool or beach, we were fighting with each other (hitting, pinching, pulling hair, etc.), spilling drinks in restaurants (or in Judson's case, melted ice cream all over innocent by-standers), taking wet swimsuits and shoes on and off over and over again, crying that we were hungry even though we just had yet another snack, coming out of our rooms when we were supposed to be sleeping, and generally just making a debacle everywhere we went. Nearly every outing that we had ended with someone having a tantrum (usually because they didn't want to leave). On the way home, the incessant interrogation of when we would arrive home was as fervent and frequent as the ride down (perhaps more so). But the trip was fun! No, really, it was...well, mostly...
So are we there yet? As in, are we where we could actually have a nice relaxing trip to the beach with our kids? No, not quite yet. Maybe next year.
