Life's a Beach

Now that summer is here, it’s time to pack our boogie boards, slather on sunscreen and head to the beach.

Or…not.

Actually, I used to love the beach. When I was young, my parents would take my sisters and me to the Jersey Shore for two weeks every summer. Each day we would head out to the beach just after breakfast, setting up camp with our towels and radios and trashy romance novels. We’d smear our bodies with baby oil (yes, baby oil), and bake on the beach till lunchtime. After lunch, we’d troop back to the beach and spend a few more hours baking and burning and bouncing in the surf. After rinsing off in the outdoor shower (is there any shower better than an outdoor shower?) we’d eat dinner, then head back to the beach for a walk along the shore, collecting seashells and rocks and flying the kite we’d brought with us. At that point summer just seemed to last forever.

Do you know why the beach was such an idyllic place to go as a child? I finally figured it out. It’s because our parents were the ones who packed all the blankets and towels and snacks and boogie boards and sunscreen and bug spray and yes, that darned kite! Our parents shopped for the food that sustained us each day, and the drinks that kept us hydrated and shelled out cash each night when we’d hear the ding-a-ding-a-ding of the ice cream truck. I don’t know when that sweet, tinkling bell was replaced by the warped, distorted version of “Turkey in the Straw” but I sure do miss that ice cream truck.

I didn’t mind sand in the house back then because I wasn’t the one sweeping it up each day and shaking it out of the beds and washing it down the drain. I didn’t mind getting sunburned because I knew it would fade to a tan, or peel like crazy and then fade to a tan. I didn’t think about the fact that in forty years my neck and chest would look like the side of Samsonite luggage.

When my kids were little, I loved the idea of taking them to the beach. Notice I say I loved the idea… In my mind we’d sit placidly on the beach, our umbrella shielding us from the sun as we dug sand castles and jumped in the surf holding hands. The reality was much different however. My toddlers thought the beach was a great place to run in opposite directions. It was like “Sophie’s Choice”, trying to decide which kid to run after and which to abandon. And then there’s the stuff. Even if I could get my little ones to carry one small sand pail or towel, that still left me to haul the cooler, the beach bag, the umbrella, two boogie boards and a sand chair. It’s not like I could make two trips. Without my husband along, it was like a family consisting of two small children and one pack mule. After a day of sweating and swearing (under my breath), I’d haul my two little ones and all our gear back to the car and begin the process of de-sanding everyone and everything before loading them into the vehicle. Inevitably, the kids would scream for ice cream on the ride home when all I wanted to do was kick up my feet and open a cold one.
Going to the beach now is still a production, but less of one. Now that my “little ones” are 10 and 13, they get themselves ready. They pack their own goggles and towels and spray themselves with sunscreen. Last week I barked “Make your own sandwich” and to my surprise, they did. They each have to carry their own boogie board and sand chair to and from the beach. And while I still keep a watchful eye on them when they are in the water, it’s nice to know that I can sit several hundred yards away in the comfort of my beach chair and scan a page or two of my magazine. They build sand castles without my assistance and when they ask if they can walk down to the jetty on their own, I’m fairly comfortable saying yes. When we head home I’m the one who suggests we stop for ice cream.

The task of vacuuming up all the sand that finds its way into my house still falls to me. I hang the towels on the back deck to dry and run the bathing suits through the wash while my kids plop their exhausted bodies in front of the television. I still moan and groan when my kids ask if we can go to the beach, but I take them because now I’m old enough to know that the summer doesn’t last forever. Like my children’s youth, it’s all too fleeting.