With a sunny day upon us and a brilliant blue sky, my husband Jeremy and I decided to go “up the lake”. His grandparents had a lovely cabin on the beach, and they invited us for a visit. We thought we’d pop over for a day of sun and sand, but as any parent of young children knows, you never “pop” anywhere.
First, the kids needed sunscreen. Molly was stoic as I smoothed on the thick cream, but my son squirmed like a break-dancer. “It’s important, Andy,” I said as he wriggled around, “you need to be sun safe!” He slithered out of the bathroom, a trail of greasy handprints in his wake. Next came the packing: towels, diapers, wipes, every single snack in the cupboards and extra clothes for when the kids fell in the water. Our clown car of a van was stuffed like a turkey, and the dog let out a muffled “BURF!” from the back seat. I didn’t bring a book, since there was zero chance of relaxation. There’d still be whining and worry, but at least we’d be at the beach!
We trundled down to the boat launch and swiped a parking spot, unloading two hot, sweaty kids, eight duffel bags, one cooler and the dog. As we struggled our way to the dock, Jeremy’s grandpa puttered up in his boat. The ride up was serene; emerald pine trees stood watch over blue water as smooth as glass. Just as Andy was getting the “cranky wiggles”, we arrived at the rustic little cabin; there’s no electricity, cars, or cell service, and best of all, there are no other people! The little beach was ours to explore, and the five of us laughed our way down to the water.
The sun was hot and bright, and the lake was cool and refreshing. The soft drinks were ice cold, the chips were salty; there has never been a more enjoyable day. The kids played happily together in the sand. Are they becoming more mature? Will my days be filled with quiet kids who are nice to each other? HA! Of course not! Why do I insist on optimism? Andy squashed Molly’s castle, and she dumped a bucket of sand on his head. Cue both kids screaming and Mom and Dad playing referee.
With the sun sinking, it was time to head home. The dog was dragged out of the water, the kids were dressed in dry clothes, and the supplies were lugged onto the boat. I was proud of us; no one was sunburned, the whining had stopped – we’d had a fun time! This smugness, of course, was my downfall. As I was boarding the boat, I slipped on the wet dock and went butt-over-teakettle into the lake! Naturally, I was holding the bag with the towels, so I was drenched with no way of drying myself. Jeremy was struggling not to laugh as I scrambled back onto the dock, and my warning of “don’t say a word” sent him into a fit of laughter.
“Mama, you ALL WET!” Andy cried.
“I sure am, buddy,” I replied, collapsing into the boat. As we motored away from the cabin, with lake water in my pockets, I made a mental note: next time, I’ll pack spare clothes for ME, too! Once my pride healed, I’m sure this would be funny, right?
