Little Man has been five for a couple of months now. I’d had visions that he would take part in some kind of summer day camp and learn to swim in such a program. But, alas, he is not potty trained…a permanent life motto should be Plan “E” is the new “A.” A friend recommended this lake beach to me last year, but I was too anxious to consider it at the time. It’s a good deal for both the pass and lessons, and she raved about the cleanliness and general positive environment. But, I don’t like outside. I especially don’t like beaches, and I extra specially don’t like new routines. Combine them together, and it didn’t happen. I don’t think I even had a good excuse for it. But, that hasn’t stopped my Mom Guilt from overtaking me. Kids love a beach, so this year I pulled up my big girl pants and registered for their two weeks of daily lessons and the summer beach pass.
But, the process had been dragging out after I made the decision, and just wanted to be done with arranging it…but the town was taking their sweet time, which gave me the opportunity to ruminate further on something that was inherently making me exceptionally anxious. Even when we were registered and things were purchased, I was anxious with anticipation. I never made a dry run prior. I had no idea where I was going. I had no idea of the set-up. I didn’t really know what I needed. And, I still don’t like to be outside. And, there was also this vague thought nagging me that this was a waste of money and too good to be true…Surely I need to mortgage our house or utilize our children’s college fund to have my son learn to swim in one of these custom kid swimming places that require me to (gasp) wear a swimsuit and wade into the pee pool!
The morning started out efficient. I even decided to not exercise in the morning to ensure I didn’t have any weirdness with my timing. I usually don’t, but I didn’t want to pressure myself with my schedule of exercising throughout the day…requiring even more showers for a mommy with terribly sensitive skin, and an unpredictable nap with the kids. Keep it simple was what I was going with, and first thing in the morning that deceptively worked…until the directions my husband gave me took us to the same lake as where we needed to go, but the actual beach for the next town over.
I ended up at the first beach ten minutes early. After a tremendously long and steep schlep up a hill, it was lovely. The kids having a ball, and I prided myself in getting there despite the entire town under construction. But, time ticked, and no one was there. I started to worry. And, then I looked out over the water, and saw a second beach that suddenly was populated. I hurried to my bag to realize that we were now fifteen minutes late for the lesson that was occurring at another beach.
I swear. I hustle the kids. They were understanding and accommodating as Little Man narrated the events of my fuck up…something he does best, which is endearing until it’s on a loop for thirty minutes. They are soaked and confused. I’m bullshit, and screaming at my husband because I tried to get to the other beach, but couldn’t find it. Mind you, I’ve only been in this state with my husband once before…It was a blizzard when we were newly sort of living together. I was heading out to join him for his work party. My car in his garage, but the snow was piled on the driveway before the condo plow people had an opportunity to remove the snow. My now husband, then boyfriend had not seen the state of his drive, told me to, “just punch it,” which I did, and subsequently was stuck with only half my car out of the garage. In dress pants and a waning blizzard, I dug out my car. It’s funny now…a little over fifteen years later.
So, now my anxiety, that had been mellowing, was spilling out of every conceivable pore without relief, but he got us there. Fortunately the same age group had another class for Little Man later…not that I wanted to be at the beach so long, but that’s what a Plan E is all about.
As I do with almost all things that make me anxious, I plan a menu of some sort. What better beach fair exists than pasta salad? Actually, I have no idea. I hate the beach, and can’t remember the last time I went, except it was pre-kids and I was probably disgruntled about it as I spend days ridding myself of sand from my unmentionables. I’m generally proud of my pasta salads, but must say that this one was probably among my best…pretty good when my strategy was to buy whatever shit that seems like it vaguely fit with the hope that this beast would last the week. It turns out that I’m not the only one impressed. Little Man enjoyed it so much that he asks for another helping about every ten minutes. Aside from the green beans, he eats most everything in it. That surprised me as he’s never been a pepper or cucumber fan. He didn’t quite clean his container, but it came close. I’m not sure how he selected which items he would leave for me, as he didn’t completely refuse to eat any one item entirely. That said, I prefer this mystery to some of the others my kids gift me.It’s remarkable how much I’ve grown in the past five years. As much stuff as I hauled for this first trip to the beach, it’s probably half the amount I used to when Little Man was a baby. Another notable difference is that I mostly used everything. It was such a chaotic beginning to the day that yielded us staying much longer than I’d planned…and realizing upon arrival that I didn’t have everything required to keep me comfortable and avoiding a rash from too much sun exposure…I didn’t change the kids before heading home. They both mostly sat half-naked in their car seats because I was done and needed a nap by the end. But, shout-out to the other moms who had their shit together, and my friend who allowed Warrior Queen to pilfer her entire snack collection. I seriously don’t know where she puts all the food she eats.
Warrior Queen enjoyed her digging, but I can’t say that there are any non parent delights with her process. The above picture was her when there was no toy phone or Hello Kitty ice cream to consume her attention. Mr. Man, however, spent two days diligent at work. The first, pictured above, he built a “beaver dam” he excitedly used to experiment with water flow. Day two it was lava, which is not a surprising story-line for him these days. Among other obsessions, I find myself learning ALL about volcanoes and lava…earthquakes…environmental catastrophes associated with climate change and global warming. This is in addition to his human body fixations, and all possible ailments one might encounter…like cancer. Believe it or not, but I very quickly reach my limit agreeably discussing all the ways in which one might develop and die from various cancers. Sometimes these two interest areas intersect…like this morning when environmental destruction led to dying from skin cancer…in case anyone were interested in inviting us over for a party.
I was playing around with trying to appear artistic while also wanting to guarantee I had images to document this day for my blog. But, in addition to noting that I’m mostly well hydrated and in a constant state of needing to pee, I want to take this moment in self-admiration for managing to find a pair of sandals for Little Man without diving too profoundly into our ice-cream truck fund. Kid shoe shopping is a process that really should be reserved for its own circle of hell…if I believed in such a place. But, frankly, I rank finding both kids shoes between stubbing my toe and bra shopping. It was terrible, but while I still need to get Warrior Queen something better than the shoes pictured…preferably something that doesn’t leave her feet grotesquely black and impossible to clean, I managed a pretty decent pair for Little Man…I’m waiting for these bastards to disintegrate when they hit the water. So far their maiden voyage had them sitting in the sun. The second day equal use. But, while I need to try to locate a spare set for him, and two for Warrior Queen, I can’t stomach it at the moment.This fella…or fell-ette decided to join me today on this second beach day that whispered rainstorms to come. At first I was a little freaked…do butterflies bite or anything with their tube eating things? But, life is all about risks, right? And, this risk ended up as a total diva…chillaxing on my pastyness for all the surrounding kids to gawk. It flew away shortly after they became bored and returned to their digging and general festivities. I guess I can’t please everyone all of the time, but not gonna lie…a butterfly confusing me with something flower-like is not a bad way to spend a morning.
A Tale of Two Mommies 