the storm after the calm

we're immensely blessed to have my parents' beach house only a couple of hours away, and we've spent a lot of time here this summer. i hadn't realized how much time until liam took the kitchen calendar off the wall, counted the days that have "BEACH" written on them, and then announced that the grand total is 35. so it turns out that we've been at the beach off and on for a total of five weeks since may, and the kids have really fallen into a sense of it being their second home. they've brought their favorite toys and books, they have their own kitchen drawer containing their cups and plastic plates, and they know that every evening we say our prayers out on the deck as we watch the sun set majestically over the water. it's beautiful and calming and really my most favorite place on earth. but, unfortunately, my thoughts were as far from those as possible on wednesday morning, as i wrangled my two children to the beach by myself. my parents' house is on the sound, which explains the gorgeous views and the sunset show. but while it's serene and soothing and quiet, it does make things a bit difficult when you have young ones. kids, while at the beach, want to do BEACH things. they want to build sand castles and collect shells and ride the waves. and all of these activities require stuff: shovels and buckets and chairs and towels and boogie boards. which isn't a huge deal, until you realize that one of the downsides of being at a house on the sound is that it's always a distance from the beach itself. so, my parents invested in this huge, sturdy, aluminum wagon that has become our lifeline while we're down there. we load it up with the aforementioned supplies (and then some), stuff the kids in it between the chairs and the cooler, and wrap them in towels to hopefully avoid the onslaught of mosquitoes. up until last week, i've always been able to work in tandem with my parents or chris, making the process a tad easier. but last week i flew solo for a few days, leaving me to maneuver the whole conglomeration down the driveway, across the street, and into the dune where we park and disembark. and then up over the crosswalk and down again, where i dropped everything in a huge heap and gave a sigh of relief which lasted for about ten seconds until i was chasing after my children with their life jackets as they got ever closer to the water. none of this is easy. but i don't mean to complain -- we were at the beach, for goodness sakes! i'll gladly endure this five minutes of frustration for a few hours of bliss. on wednesday morning, however, it quickly became apparent that those few hours of bliss i was counting on were not to be. right about the time that i fastened the last life jacket strap and had finally sunk into my chair, i heard rumblings in the distance. the skies, which had been crystal blue when we left the house, had quickly become dark gray. a storm was coming. and let me just tell you something: hell hath no fury like two children yanked from the beach too soon. they sat there, almost defiantly, as i raced to gather up our belongings to head back home. they balked at carrying their rafts and hats while i staggered through the thick sand lugging 100 pounds in my arms. they whined, they complained, and even as we began to be pelted by sheets of rain, they pleaded to stay. so this post is sort of ironic, given my recent entry about us being in a period of ease with the kids. not one moment of the hour that it took me to pack their snacks, get them dressed in their swimsuits, slather them with sunscreen, walk down to the beach, unload our wagon, re-load our wagon, return as drowned rats, shower them, dry them off, and find some clean clothes to throw on them -- not one moment of that hour was easy. maybe i should have titled that previous entry as "the calm before the storm". because Lord knows, the storm hit.