I remember when I was a kid growing up in Queens Village, NY, my parents would periodically load up the Vista Cruiser and take us to Jones Beach. Embarking on such a trip with four kids was an epic; I look back and do not wonder at all why we didn’t go more often.
Each person in the family required towel, t-shirt, dry clothes, flip flops, whatever sand toys were coming along, lunch, snacks and drinks. Additional requirements: umbrellas, beach blanket for the kids, and chairs for the adults Oh, and if there happened to be someone still in diapers, that was another thing to add to the pile.
All of this stuff was hauled down the thirteen steps of our front stoop to the car, which was more often than not parked around the corner on a side street, where it was safer from crashes than it would have been parked on our street. For those from Queens who might be reading this – we lived on “Franny Loo”, between 94th and Jamaica Avenue). The people doing the majority of the hauling were the two oldest, me and Big Bro. Hauling it down those 13 steps was one thing; hauling it all up again was quite another matter!
Into the Vista Cruiser we piled, traversing what felt like the road to forever. Along the way, we tried our best to one up each other with staples such as, “Get on YOUR side!” (this references some unseen but far from imaginary line splitting the back seat) and, “Stop LOOKING at me!”. OH! And let us not forget the ever-popular, “Mom, he’s BREATHING on me…” 🙄
Once arriving at the beach, we unloaded – only, this time the parents had to help because making multiple trips down the boardwalk was not desireable. Find an appropriately sized square of sand, unfurl blankets and umbrellas, sit down, AHHHH!
And then, it happens.
“Mommy, I hafta gotuhduh bafroom.”
“Go pee on the water.”
“Mommy…. I hafta MAKE.”
Really LONG-ass pause.
“You didn’t go before we left, did you? I TOLD you to go before we left!”
Kids are maintenance. Families are work. Sometimes I wonder how the human race survives, why mothers put up with their young instead of eating them.
I hear this is the reason Mother Nature makes babies of all species cute. It’s to give the mother pause, ketchup bottle poised mid-air above our delicate skin….
“Aw, crap. I can’t do it. She’s too cute.”
I’m sitting here thinking these thoughts as I laze upon Bowman’s Beach on Sanibel Isand. I’d like to show you what I brought with me this morning.
It took me less time to pack the backpack chair than it took me to type this post. This leaves my hands free to snap pictures, tweet and pick up interesting shells while walking from the parking lot to the shore. My mother would never have been able to do that.
Posted by Wordmobi