Ahhhhh, summertime once again...

And so it begins.

The long, bright days filled with popsicles and playgrounds, swimsuits and sleepovers, cookouts and camp-outs. Yeah, no, we only do about 1/3 of those things. And I'm actually terrible at math so that figure is probably generous. Or stingy. Whichever.

Summertime is, of course, when the majority of people pack up the ol' Subaru and head to the shore for an eight hour day of family fun memory making. I imagine these people tossing a beach ball or frisbee, eating watermelon wedges, gleefully splashing each other in the waves and laughing the day away. They might stop for ice cream or a quick dinner at the clam shack on the ride home and after showers they pile into a big bed for a movie night complete with popcorn and junior mints. Sounds dreamy.

We do it slightly different over here. First off, if I am even toying with the idea of a beach day I keep that thought to myself for at least three days. That way I can spend a very fair chunk of my time agonizing over every single detail of how this plan could all go down. Do the girls' bathing suits fit properly? Do we need coverups? Does anyone even wear coverups anymore? Can Daisy handle flip flops in the sand? Maybe she should wear water shoes. Yeah, idiot, that's what you bought them for, isn't it? Should we bring the big cooler? I don't even know where their sand toys are. Time to start stalking the beach forecast and tide chart and what about the seaweed factor. Do the beaches have those little bugs like last year? Vomit. What will we bring to eat? Scarlett only eats PB&J so that's just gonna attract all the bees. We need a new umbrella. Am I wearing a bathing suit this year or should I go with my Dickie's jumpsuit? 
And so on.

This goes on pretty much right up until we've got the car packed. The girls, just giddy with excitement, have forgotten how LONG they perceive the ride to be. We will all be reminded of that in a short while. Someone will have to pee on the ride down. I will, for sure due to the previously guzzled six cups of coffee, but I'll keep it to myself until we get there. The bathroom is always a fun treat. Daisy touches every single disgusting surface possible and somehow always manages to put her bare ass on each restroom floor that we encounter. Scarlett remains horrified by hand driers so she just bolts the second she shuts the faucet - regardless of who is indisposed. I'm still slightly sketched out by the giant hole toilet but that's a story for another day.

We manage to make our way to the sand - Gregg doing the majority of the lugging but my shoulders are heavy with bags. I always picture John Candy in Summer Rental as we are navigating that beach. Clumsily maneuvering our way around colored sheets and sandcastles. No matter how early we leave the house we are always disappointed by the number of beachgoers who've scored the best spots. Because I've done my homework I know what that tide is up to so we choose an appropriate place to plop. Umbrella in. Blankets down. Chairs positioned. We did it!

Now, the amazingly peaceful and glorious beach days of my youth are so far in that rearview mirror I can hardly smell the Coppertone anymore. When you bring two little girls to the beach you're not sitting in that little sand chair. Not for ten seconds. Surprisingly BOTH girls love to be in the water. They really don't agree on anything so this is pretty amazing. Neither know how to swim so they require an adult at all times. I do remember that as a kid, you couldn't get me out of that water. The "wait thirty minutes after you eat" rule was such torture. I would swim and flip and play in those waves for hours at a time. LOVED the ocean. Now? I'd rather not go thigh deep. The idea of creatures in the sand, pinching and squirming. Nasty seaweed. The possibility of those gross bugs that cling to your skin. And now that we know that the shark population is growing in these parts (YAY!) I'll just enjoy those headlines from my living room chair. I love me a shark but would lose my shit if I saw a fin within a mile of my sea-covered shins. Clutching the hand of a daughter I wade uncomfortably trying not to let on that I'd rather be back at the blanket. Thank God they're still small so we can't go any deeper. The squeals of joy from the girls are hands down the best part of the day. Well, that and the grapes. I'm always so glad I remember to bring grapes. We let the girls splash and play for a bit then try to coax them into making sandcastles so we could possibly sit for a few minutes. That only lasts a minute or two before they realized they've been duped and the water is where its at. Drat.

We spend a few hours that way. Splashing, snacking, swatting horseflies, hitting the restroom etc. Daisy is usually the one to crack first. She starts to let us know in some super fun ways that she is done for the day and we start the joyous task of packing it alllll back up. Why do we even take sand toys? They literally only used one bucket and one cup. Remember this for next year. The chairs are harder to close up, the umbrella doesn't fit back into the cart, wet towels are heavier, sand has grown hotter. The walk back to the car is a real blast. My feet are burning!!! How far is the car?? This is a long walk!  Can we get Brickley's? Pleeeeeeease? I'm so hungryyyyyy. Repeated by the two little ones about seventy thousand times. We find the car, shake out our blankets and do our best to dust off the kids before locking and loading them. We ultimately drive to the Brickley's lot which we had planned to do all along but were soured on the idea after all of the "requests." The post ice-cream ride is far worse. Both girls reeeeeeally need a nap but refuse to close an eye. How come the sun is always on MY side??? I'm hottttttttt. I don't want to take a shower. Can we get Del's? Why are we stopped?? What are we having for dinner?  

Ahhhh. Home at last. Time to rela... wait, nope. Not yet! Let's first unpack alllll of the sand covered crap, let's clean out the cooler and toss that moist, disgusting trash, let's bathe the two crankiest children on the planet, let's start a load of laundry, let's finally get ourselves cleaned up. NOW it's time to rela... "I'm HUNGRY!!!!!!"
Son of a.

That's the 'beach day' we've had in past years. There was no frisbee tossing. Do people even do that anymore? Or is that from some random '80s Tom Cruise movie? There was no watermelon wedge. There certainly wasn't a movie night because our kids don't like to watch movies and because bedtime could not have come any sooner. Hey, we tried. We got the ice cream and we had some gleeful splashing. I'm not about to do the fractions on that but I guess it was pretty decent after all. Any day now the pleas for a beach day will ring throughout the house. I should probably dust off that bucket and cup.

xo

Summer ... how times have changed

August, huh? The summer days are just flying on by, aren't they? I can't say I'm sad about it. I'm not a big fan. My days of peaceful beach outings are gone. My solo trips to the Beavertail cliffs with a towel, iPod and water bottle are a distant memory. Now a day at the shore requires a full staff just to carry the gear and another to tackle the kids. I might sit down just long enough to get shit on by a seagull. MIGHT.

But I am enjoying certain elements of the summer. I keep reminding Scarlett of the importance of lazy mornings. Come September it's full time school for thirteen years. Oh, to think of the crusts I'll be cutting off. I've made my school supplies lists and plan to finish that sooner than later. I don't want to be throwing punches over an eight pack of crayons while someone rips the Ticonderogas out of my cart. I'm not one to shop in a crowd. Or to do much else in a crowd for that matter... I need my space. We went to Mystic Aquarium last week and I shuddered as I was touched by every elbow, diaper bag and plush squid. A Pearl Jam concert is pretty much the only acceptable crowd I'll be found in. I'll take a few drunkards scream-singing Rearviewmirror over a family of ten rushing the sting ray tank any day.

My kids are driving me frigging crazy though. I'm finally at that point where I "get it". The glee that moms feel when the initial back-to-school ads are shown in like July. The parents cheering as the first day of school arrives, shoving their kid down the front steps, chucking their lunch bag through the bus window. I never understood it before and always kinda felt like it was harsh but now having gone through a collection of days where I literally yell for what feels like sixty seven hours straight I get it. When I look back on the former me I can't remember yelling more than a handful of times in my life. Aside from fights with my parents as a rude, inconsiderate teen - I don't think I ever yelled. I mean, what the hell would I yell about? If the post office was out of Charlie Brown stamps and I got stuck with the holiday birds? If my neighbor was blasting his shit music in the driveway for hours? If I was stuck in traffic on a bridge for two hours on a Friday evening? Nope. Not yelling over any of that jazz. Now? I steady yell. In fact, I think my regular speaking voice is actually a half yell now. My eyebrows are now stuck in permanent stern-face position. I begin yelling before 7:30 am. It doesn't end until 9 pm some days. It's exhausting being continuously pissed off. There are glorious moments in between where the girls are getting along nicely and actually playing together without bloodshed or when Daisy finally takes a good nap. When Scarlett is helpful and doesn't fight me on every single thing I tell her to do. Those moments are fleeting though. And my boiling point is quickly reached over and over again. It always works best if I separate the girls. They can be excellent when unhindered. Scarlett is too used to getting things her own way and Daisy is just trying to be two. The mix can be devastating. I force them together as much as possible to try to crack the code but sometimes it's best if I just put them in solitary.

I look back on my summer vacations as a child and realize those were truly some of the best times of my life. Playing outside with friends from sunup to sundown. Eight hour days at the beach. Pool swimming followed by lazy cartoon-filled afternoons. Ahhhh... to be a kid again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go rip a crocodile game out of my kid's hands.

end of summer ...

Ohhh September is so close I can smell it - actually that's probably because I bought the Fall scents from Yankee Candle and have been burning Apple Pumpkin every day. Either way - I'm excited!! The days ahead will be filled with jeans and boots and sweaters and chilly air and bright blue skies and colorful leaves and the smell of wood burning stoves and back yard fires ... ahhhh. And treks to the playground will be comfortable and more enjoyable as we say adios to the bugs, the sweat and the boiling hot slides! And our menu is about to expand into the comfort food genre with favorites like turkey chili, lasagna and kale soup! Mmmmm.

I'm not saying goodbye to summer just yet, however, there will still be a few good weekends for all to savor. I've missed my beach days for certain - it's just not the same with a toddler in tow. 

Here are a few "summery" pictures from the last few weeks. I am semi-disgusted that I have used different filters, fonts and frames on these but I'm sure you'll get over it more quickly than I will... 

 {sitting pretty on a stone bench at Brenton Point, Newport}

 {enjoying Aunt Carrie's clamcakes, clam strips and red chowda 

like a true native Rhode Islander}

 {um, yes, that is me doing a cartwheel as Scarlett watches with glee}

{a delicious summer din-din: turkey burger, tomato-cucumber salad and sweet corn}

 

{piggy back ride!}

 

 {the most colorful pinwheely perfection}

{I had one for breakfast and lunch one day and it was a glorious treat}

I am very happy living in New England where we get to experience all of the seasons. Just as we are getting sick of shoveling snow and wearing coats, Spring comes to the rescue with those first few days of 'crack your windows weather.' And when we are finally ready to hang up our flip flops we can pull out last year's boots for a beautiful Autumn season. We get the best of all four. Summer was sweet but bring on the FALL!!!!

HHH

Hazy. Hot. Humid.

Because it's not hot enough when the temperature is in the nineties - no, we need to dump a trillion gallons of swampy moisture into the atmosphere. Awesome.

Who can stand it? Who are these people that thrive in humidity? Oh it doesn't bother me, I like the heat! Yeah? Well I'm just trying to keep my lungs functioning while bent awkwardly into a car that has GOT to be a thousand degrees to buckle Scarlett into her car seat. Immediately trying to cool down and immersed in the Honda AC, I come across handfuls of joggers along my route. REALLY? Hey, joggers, knock it off! I applaud that you are fit and 'live to run' - I truly do - but you make me uncomfortable. I can't help but picture you collapsing into a puddle of your own horror and promptly frying on the broiling concrete like a hairy, tank-top-clad egg. Can't you skip a day? Or use a treadmill? Man alive, you are just asking for trouble... and paramedics.

I love the people who barely show a bead of sweat too. Sure they complain that they are roasting yet there is no physical evidence to back up the claim. I'm one of the lucky girls who sweats primarily on her face. It's pretty awesome that everyone I come in contact with can tell that I'm a second away from dumping a cup of lemonade over my head. First, right around my eyebrows, then my upper lip and hairline. It's all very sophisticated. I'm not self conscious about it at all, honest. Throughout my life I've listened to my friends tell me, "Oh, you're so lucky you don't sweat under your arms! I ruin all my shirts!" Really? I'm lucky? You meet people with a matte face of makeup intact and you're panicking because you can't break out into the Y-M-C-A or someone may notice your pit-stain? You're right. I am lucky. I get to miss most of a conversation because I'm focused so hard on when I can break eye contact and make my next 'spin around and wipe my forehead' move. And while I loathe my upper arms I am forced to wear sleeveless shirts because I have to choose comfort over my own crazy. Yet it never fails, temps can be well into the eighties and I see people wearing hoodies. I understand in some offices it can get very chilly sitting still all day while the boss cranks the AC to frosty levels. BUT I'm talking people waiting for the bus, walking up the avenue - in the hottest direct sun of the day. In skinny jeans and sweatshirts. Huh?? Jeans?? Like full length jeans from hip to ankle. Stuck to your leg as close-fitting as possible. I can't. I just can NOT. Do what you gotta do, people, but you're blowing my mind... and kinda pissing me off.

Anyway, I feel badly for the hard-working, physical laborers on these nastiest of days. My husband included. They run themselves ragged, in and out of hot trucks, sitting in traffic with no air to cool them down and hardly a breeze - at least not one that isn't ninety-eight degrees. And the roofers! Oh, the roofers. You may as well be on the equator. Standing up there all close to the sun. Waves of heat just radiating all around you. Skin the color of brick. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.

Kudos to all who spend their days out in the triple-H with little relief. Your next Del's is on me. (Just kidding, Ain't nobody got money for that).