Along with not being a dog person, I am also not a beach person. Add that to my cooking aversion and not being a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl and that makes me the least likely person on earth to find a date online. Thank god I’m already married. (I totally lied on J-Date to find him, if you must know.)
My childhood beach-going memories consist mainly of long walks on blisteringly hot sand while awkwardly holding a lounge chair as it bumped against my shins. That and the uncomfortably wet/sandy rides home in summer weekend traffic made me a big fan of the pool.
Note: I do like the beach in certain circumstances. For example, on vacation resorts— where towels and beach chairs are supplied and you do not have to lug them through a parking lot or bring them back with you into your house.
Despite my disdain for the beach, this weekend I agreed that it would be fun to take Mazzy. Seeing her reaction to new experiences always puts things in a different perspective.
After we treked out to our desired spot with chairs, blankets, towels, umbrellas, a sandcastle set fit for a Buckingham Palace redesign and enough food and water to be stranded there indefinitely, we faced Mazzy toward the water and waited to see what happened.
First she stood completely still, staring out to sea as if she were discovering the world’s best-kept secret. Then she began flapping her arms with such glee that I immediately stripped to my bathing suit and ran with her toward the seaweed infested water.
Once at the water’s edge, Mike and I held Mazzy’s hands and stood ankle deep. As each wave hit, we picked her up by the arms like she was jumping over them one by one. After a few minutes, she started screaming— “It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming!!!” as the water approached and a high pitched “woooooo” on each jump. (I asked Mike what she was doing and he said, “Copying you.” Oh. Really?)
Then, as if that wasn’t enough for me to join “Team Beach”, Mazzy turned to me after a particularly rough wave and said “Mommy! FUN!”
My heart melted. She’s never used that word before.
But just as I was about to kneel down and inscribe “I LOVE YOU, BEACH!” in the sand, I realized we had only been there for fifteen minutes. I decided to reserve judgement until the day was over.
Good thing, because immediately after Mazzy finished her salt water dip, she took a roll in the sand. And THEN the breaded chicken cutlet had the nerve to ask me to pick her up.
In the end, the beach experience was not quite as magical as it began. But were the moments of joy worth the effort?
The only way to weigh the complete experience is with a pie chart.
As you can see, I’m at an impasse. I’m hoping you’ll help me out.
Beach—YAY or NAY?