At 9:27 am on Thursday morning, my phone chirped that familiar "you-got-a-text" sound.
It was my friend Shauna.
If you want, we have an empty room and would love to have you guys come play on the beach till Sat. It's only a 5 hour drive.
By 11:11 am, I had decided to abandon my characteristically not spontaneous personality.
By 4:34 pm, we were on the road.
Fast forward 5 6 1/2 hours, through barren deserts, a delicious downpour, and UFLs (unidentified floating lights--windmills on the hill in the dark), and we were at the beach.
In case you hadn't heard, I hate sand.
I hate sand so much that my kids don't even remember the last time they went to the beach. (Hyrum was 6 months, Micah was 3, Lily was 7. Yeah, Evie is 4 and had never been to the beach before.)
It was almost 11 pm, but nothing could stop my monkeys from running in the front door, running down two flights of stairs, and running out the back door to the ocean.
Shouts of excitement and peals of laughter rose above the waves of the rising tide.
Micah burst into the house, covered in sand and sea, laughing that he "got cocky. I kept yelling, 'Come on, Grandfather Tidal! Is that all you got?' And he let me have it."
Only the promise that they could go to the beach first thing in the morning could get them out of the water--dripping clothes and shining faces and all.
They did it all the next day.
Body surfing.
Boogie boarding.
Eating sand-coated snacks.
Digging holes. And filling them.
With themselves. Ewwwww.
Finding shells.
Hyrum was the champion.
Taking a break, watching a movie, definitely not sleeping.
Running and splashing.
Writing in the sand.
Listening to the waves.
Warming up enough to answer the call of the waves.
Their joy was surprising to me, and it made the whole experience worth twelve hours of driving and all the sand.
And how did sand-hating Mom do with all of this? I decided that there is only one way to do the beach:
I found that the ONLY way to do the beach is in a beach house--on the beach. Kids can nap, kids can use the bathroom, kids can get snacks . . . and moms can do homework from the deck and rinse off the sand immediately.
.
And shockingly enough, the ocean was good to me, too.
I'm never going back . . . unless it's on the beach like this. Thanks, Tuckers, for letting us crash your last day at the beach.
there is no other way than a beach house. and once you've gone, you can NEVER go back;)
ReplyDeleteI have discovered I love the beach. I've never done a beach house but another way to do it just to live 10 minutes away. :) It looks like they had so much fun!
ReplyDeleteOh how I love the beach! Growing up on coastal Florida was such a great experience! Sand was just part of the experience you got to take home with you. Loved it and miss it so much in our landlocked state of Colorado. Glad u had fun too!
ReplyDeleteThat's the best sort of holiday - at a beach house. I think I need a week at just such a place.
ReplyDeleteLove Eve's adorable ruffled swimsuit. So glad you threw grad school in the car and took a break!
ReplyDeleteI wish someone would text me that I could use their beach house. I would go in a second.
ReplyDeletei'm glad yall went. i, too, am not a fan of sand. i'm good walking on it, so long as i brought the right shoes and there's a hose nearby. i, too, prefer to view it from a distance... BUT i couldn't live so far from one. it takes an hour and a half to get to galveston. i've not been in a long time, but i wouldn't want to live any further from it. i love knowing the ocean's so close. and that's enough for me.
ReplyDeletelove the pictures! you've got beautiful children, m'dear.
Hahahaha, I love it! Loved seeing all your kiddos. And I agree...a beach house ON THE BEACH...or it gets annoying!!!
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