Beach Bust

Yesterday was Beach Day 2010. It was Benjamin's first trip to the beach ever and the first time the boys and I went this year. We spent over three hours driving to spend less than two hours on the beach. I cannot say, in any way, that it was a fruitful expedition. We stopped at 7-11 about 30 minutes out to get gas and I felt sick. I strongly considered just turning back and coming home, but I considered the justified attitudes the boys would have and "toughed it out" for "their sake." I realize I am dramatizing this to the point of sounding like I was battling cancer rather than diarrhea. I, thankfully and surprisingly, made it all the way to the beach without any follow-up bathroom breaks in driving.

During the art festival I scouted out a new area to beach- with close parking, public bathrooms, shower stand, water fountain, and a deck of rocking chairs. We stopped a tourist trap and bought an umbrella and then headed to the water. Justin boogie boarded and Cameron played in the waves. Justin played soccer and Cameron dug for crabs. Justin ran and Cameron tried to keep up. After not much more than an hour the boys were bored.

Observant person that I am, I did not notice that we had built our beach encampment under a monstrous ominous cloud. (That, versus serendipity, may have explained an unexpected uncrowded spot on the busy beach.) I was able to read a few chapters of my book as Benjamin slept before large rain drops started plopping on my foot. Despite the many warnings to the boys that we were leaving if it started raining, I crazily decided to wait out the shower only slightly protected under the umbrella, broken apart and lowered to the ground, as I fed Benjamin.

Of course, it was not until we braved it through that little downpour (again with the dramatics) that they decided to close the beach. C-L-O-S-E the beach. In my 30-something years of going to the beach, I never saw such a thing. The life guards packed up and walked around, telling everyone the beach was being closed for a "pending electrical storm." Then patrols came through on 4-wheelers, chasing everyone off the sand, followed by trucks that announced "We take this very seriously here."

So, I waited at the rockers with the other misplaced beach goers for maybe half an hour. The boys were hungry. You know how some moms always seem prepared? They have band-aids in their purses and juice boxes in their cars. Yeah, well that's not me. We should have packed a lunch. We didn't. I sent the boys out to scout what eating places were near. That was a failed mission unless I wanted to hit a seafood buffet and turn this into a $100 beach trip. At first the boys were just ready to leave and I really pushed them to grab something to eat and head back to the beach. Eventually, just exhausted by the situation and lacking all desire to continue the effort, despite finally having their support for the idea, we headed back to the car (and passed a Blimpie's sub less than a block from where we were).

Before we even got out of the lot, Jason called with concerns about the A/C system. It felt like just one.more.thing. I stopped for Chick-Fila. My sandwich was over cooked and I was afraid of getting sick, again, so I gave Justin my food and headed home.

Again, not exactly a fruitful expedition.