Taking Back The Beach

For the first time in 10 years, I have a tan. Now, some people- my pigment challenged friends in particular- might argue that I’m always tan. My complexion is naturally olive, but without the sun I end up looking green. I’ve been green ever since I got pregnant with Ashton. With pregnancy after pregnancy, baby after baby, the beach and the pool have been far out of my reach. I can’t ever seem to connive going without the kids, and I was too scared to take them when they were little. Last week, I bit the bullet and took all three kids to the beach, all by myself. By myself!

For Atleigh, especially, this was a big step. She’s only been to the beach once or twice, even though we live less than 3 miles from Buckroe, a little inlet of the Chesapeake Bay. It was just so much hassle... the towels and the sunblock and the sand. So much sand. There’s just so much sand at the beach. In the past few days, I’ve learned that the sand is a small price to pay for the sunshine, the water, the energy they burn up running back and forth, the friends they make for the day. It’s so worth it.

This is probably a small thing. It IS a small thing. But for me, it’s a huge accomplishment. I can’t say how huge. I’m not an adventurous mom. I never have been. We don’t do play groups. We don’t do field trips or museum days. I don’t really do “fun”. But I can do relaxed. I can for sure do that. And the fact that I managed, after 8 long years, to get to the beach- the beach that is in walking distance from my house (but seriously. Don’t walk. It’s not safe)- with all three of my kids, was like taking back a little piece of the Promised Land. I thought, “Hey, this isn’t so hard. I can do this.” I took back a little piece of the freedom I gave up when I stepped onto that hot sand, toting a chair, an umbrella, a bag full of sunblock and Capri Suns, 5 towels, a bucket of toys, and three kids in tow. I did it. My life is not so confined, after all. My horizons are now stretched across the Atlantic. Because I finally took back the beach.

I hope, if you have some part of yourself that you've lost, no matter how insignificant, that you get a chance to reclaim it this summer. Take a step, even if it's laden with baggage like mine was. You can do it. Take it back.

- M

"Bubba said there was a jellyfish behind me!"

My heart.

Yes, I did the unthinkable, and brought my camera into the water. Just this once!

I told him to smile. He shot me instead.

Growing Pains

I'm lying in my bed, alternately staring at my phone screen and my black ceiling. Everyone is asleep, and finally, I can be okay.

I turned 29 years old today. I guess technically (if you want to be technical), you could say I turned 29 at around 6pm. I had thought about posting pictures of me from various birthdays through the years, but besides my hospital photo, in which I have a pretty sick rooster (what we now call a "faux hawk") all I could find was a picture from my 15th birthday, when I was wearing some hideous purple and green flannel man pants paired with a Veggie Tales t-shirt. Not really feeling like posting that on the world wide web.

Yesterday morning I woke up crying. I cried ceaselessly on the way to work. I cried intermittently while cleaning someone else's toilet. I straight up ugly cried to James Taylor's You've Got A Friend.

I cried because I realized yesterday, with a horrible shock, that this is my last year in the 20s demographic. Which is a trifling thing. I know this. But I also realized that, looking back, my 20s were almost nothing. And everything. Nothing and everything, jumbled together in my memory. I made the most definitive decisions of my life in my 20s. I got married. I had kids one after the other, for 5 years. I changed diapers everyday from the ages of 20 to 28. I moved into a house that we all too swiftly outgrew. I got some tattoos. I got my nose pierced. I got my tubes tied (now THAT was a good decision). I worked 4 jobs somewhere between 20 and 29. I got burned a lot. Acquired quite a few scars.

But what did I DO? Not much. Not much to write about, lying here, on the first day of my last year in my 20s. I accomplished nothing great. I didn't "dent" the world with my existence. I did only that: existed. Scraped through, day after day, until I looked back and realized it had actually been years.

I'm aware I'm being melodramatic. I'm not old. I'm not at death's door. I'm not even at death's neighborhood. I'm just overwhelmed by all the seemingly pointless paving stones I've laid out around me, only to find out that I've been building in circles.

I suppose I could say my 20s have merely been the groundwork for the rest of my life. The choices I made, the new paths I forged, the bridges I burned, are the foundations that the rest of my life will be built on. I have a lot to build onto. A lot of roots to cultivate as I grow up and out. I have a lot of work before me. But I'd rather be pruned painfully than to be wild and weedy.

In one of the first blogs I wrote for What If I Said, I talked about when I felt like I was truly a grown up. I compared myself to Wendy from Peter Pan, saying how I hadn't wanted to grow up, and if I could have fled then, I would have. But Peter Pan's childishness has been romanticized. Most people don't know that Peter, in his perpetual childhood, forgot everyone he was close to. He forgot Tinkerbell, the Lost Boys, Wendy herself. I never want to be so stuck on staying young that I forget- forget to grow. Forget to learn wisdom. Forget the people who have had a hand in making me who I am, for better or for worse.

So now, with only 45 minutes left in this birthday, and almost two solid days of crying, I can be objective. I can be positive. I can look at my groundwork that has felt so meaningless and see a pattern emerging, a blueprint for the next 10 years. I can see how far I've come, painful though it's been. I can see I've grown.

-M

Playing Catch Up

Already I’m far behind on my resolution to post weekend updates. I’ll never understand how time gets away from me so quickly.

Here are a few pictures of my past few weeks:

With the heat indexes reaching up to 110 degrees around here lately, we’ve been more or less cooped up in the house for most of the day. But occasionally we put on our big kid underwear and brave the temperatures just to say we did and survived. A few weeks ago we went with some friends to the local town center and let the kids splash around in the fountains for a few hours. Fun AND free. These kids have grown up together, from their little itty bitty days. As they’ve gotten older, busier with school and things, summer has become their “quality time”. The day that school lets out they’re asking how soon they can get together. We were happy to oblige.

 

The two princesses.

Doing the moonwalk.

No, I did not bring swimsuits. No, I did not bring sunblock. But, I DID bring changes of clothes! 1 out of 3 isn’t so bad, right?

The weekend after that, we celebrated Jeremy’s grandmother’s 80th birthday with a luau. Mema is one of my favorite people in the world. Loves margaritas and antiques. Busts her husband’s chops all the time. She’s lived every single one of her 80 years to the fullest, and I pray she has many more.

I love Ashton's crazy little side kick when he throws. He'll be a pitcher yet.

Papa would never let Chloe eat alone.

I've noticed that even in this age group, the men and women separate.

Like third grade all over again.

I don't know how or when this kid got so good looking. Ok, well I know the how. Obviously he got it from his mama.

So far we haven't done anything exceptionally "special". Just little moments that, when added together, somehow create bigger memories. I want to capture it all. I want my kids to remember the little moments, and realize how lovely life can be, even in hot weather. Even in storms. Even on seemingly boring, do nothing days.

What has your summer looked like so far, friends?

-M


To see more of my life in pictures, follow me on Instagram: @mbsmoot and @ms2photo