We’ve been on vacation for three days now, and I’ve captured some pretty fun moments on camera.
But don’t be fooled.
A day at the beach isn’t really a day at the beach.
There is more crying down here on vacation than there is at home.
There is crying about it being too hot outside.
There is crying about it being too cold inside.
There is crying about having to walk up three flights of stairs.
There is crying over having to walk down three flights of stairs.
There is crying over who is going to sleep in which bed.
There is crying over sunscreen.
There is crying about sand on feet.
There is crying about sand in bathing suits.
There is crying about the sand being too hot.
There is crying about sand rashes.
There is crying about bee stings.
There is crying over who found what shell first.
There is crying over how far we have to walk to the beach.
There is crying over which way we walk to the beach.
There is crying over who is wearing which goggles.
There is crying over sunglasses.
There is crying over me taking pictures.
And there is crying over me not taking pictures.
There is a lot of fucking crying.
But today, for the first time ever, I was at the beach alone with the six kids while my husband had the morning to himself.
It was kind of an impromptu trip to the beach.
We started out just going for a quick trip to the beach to look for shells because everyone was out of control and I was about to lose my shit, and it turned into three hours on the beach.
The kids boogie boarded and searched for shells and occupied themselves and cooperated and had fun and laughed.
For about two hours I sat in a beach chair and just watched them.
I didn’t have to chase a toddler around or worry about a kid running off down the beach or crawling straight into the ocean to his death.
It was awesome.
And even though on the walk home Number 6 whined the entire way about having sand in his flip flops and Number 5 sat down in the sand and screamed her ass off for five minutes because I was the meanest mom ever because I couldn’t clearly explain to her how a person is able to get into the hospital when a helicopter lands on the top of the building, six months from now when we are in the middle of winter and counting down the days until summer vacation and talking about how we can’t wait until it’s time to go on vacation, we won’t remember the overly abundant and extremely frustrating and infuriating moments of tantrums, fits, and meltdowns.
We will remember these:
Because a bad day at the beach is better than a good day, um… anywhere.