Baby soup, sun scream and other sand treasures

By Amanda

The beach is where I find myself most at home in motherhood.

Maybe it's the lack of distractions -- no television, no cell phones, no computers, just the sand, the ocean, the crystal blue sky, and my children's bright faces, which I can see clearly without interference. 

Maybe this is why I feel the undeniable pull to the coast every summer, because I know that it's a place where I can truly focus on the things that mean the most to me, the things that seem to get lost in the frenetic paces of our daily lives.

"Mommy, make sure after you put on your baby soup that you also put on your sun scream," my 4-year-old, who is already the color of toast, says, surveying me while I dress in the bedroom. The waves are beckoning. 

She is in an oversized T-shirt to protect her back, which is the color of a Maine lobster. Her wide-brimmed hat is stained with salt spray and curls up to reveal her deep blue eyes and wispy blond hair.

One of the first things we do is build a drip castle. Due to control issues I'm not able to build something more perfect because sand simply doesn't always do exactly what you want it to do. But a drip castle is abstract, and by definition imperfect.

She talks the entire time, while we drop big, goopy dollops of wet sand on top of the mound. She tells me at first the castle is for a peacock, and then she decides it's far too small for such a big bird. She says it will be a house for a mouse. Finally, she settles on a den for a caterpillar couple named Sarah and Timmy. She creates a mailbox, only to crush it later saying that caterpillars don't have hands and so they can't open the mail, and therefore don't need a mailbox. But apparently they do need an elaborate driveway for their cars, go figure.

Later that night I take a walk on the beach with my 7-year-old. In the distance, she sees a pier twinkling beneath the setting sun. She decides we must walk to the pier. We hold hands and chat freely about nothing. She tells me this is her first "alone-time" with me all day. When did 7-year-olds learn about alone-time? 

The walk is further than I expect, at least two miles one way. I get a blister where my flip-flop cuts between my big toe and the rest of my toes. But I am happy, filled with giddy joy that only alone-time with your child can bring.

So we will return to the beach again, and again, and again this summer. Chances are I will get a tan and collect many shells, but more importantly I will get to look at my kids and really listen to them, something that will last long after the tan lines fade and the shells disintegrate.

Amanda lives in North Carolina with her husband and two daughters.   

Comments

[workingmom]

Very nice post. Living in Florida, we don't live near the beach, but the principles are the same. Wearing our sun scream, swim clothes and our sunglasses are part of life for me and my two year old. We don't get to the beach as often as I would like, but watching him run all over is so freeing and does make me remember the important things in life.

[dosninas]

Loved this post! Sounds like a wonderful time at the beach.