The Beach.

In the not-to-distant past I used to giggle to myself, discreetly shake my head, and roll my eyes at those “Did you pack the kitchen sink, dear?” beachgoers. You know the ones: they are the ones dragging the industrial sized Igloo coolers– usually more than one, the four dented and scratched, antiquated aluminum folding chairs; a useless, brightly colored sunbrella; enough floatation devices to float a Buick, and every type of lead-based sand toy produced in China for the last decade. Oh, did I forget? They are also the ones toting 2.5 kids down to the waterfront with them.

I fondly remember going to the beach carrying very little: A small cooler containing a small assortment of snacks and drink (mostly drink), a beach towel, and some extra sunscreen. Nowadays, I’m the one dragging most of the items listed in the first paragraph, save the lawn chairs. What happened? We had two kids; that’s what happened!

Going to the beach has become as much an art as it is a science. I’ve learned that one must make sure the kids have been fed, changed, and, most importantly, have pooped, before even heading off down the road and onto the giant sandbox. There is nothing more frustrating than an uncomfortable toddler trying to wiggle out of their car seat or a cramping thirteen-month-old wailing in pain.

I try to be a minimalist when packing gear for the kids, but one can never have too much stuff. For example, while the kids will be wearing little swimmers (waterproof diapers) they still need an extra shirt and pair of shorts “just-in-case.” Food. Well, I don’t mind living on a liquid diet for an afternoon but the kids can’t. This means we need to pack a cooler for the cold food and a bag for the dry food. Oh, one mustn’t forget the utensils, wet wipes, and sippy cups filled with water and with iced tea to quench those finicky teeny taste buds, either.

Toys. Unless they’ve passed out from sheer exhaustion or sunstroke, kids don’t sit still very long. They are not going to enjoy the warmth on their faces, the sun on their backs, the sounds of crashing waves whooshing on the golden sands, or ensconce themselves watching the endless varieties of freaks and winsome people tramping along the shoreline and grass areas. No. Kids want to play. And play involves toys, lots of toys. So many toys that the kids won’t even use all of them, but will miss every single one you “forget” to bring. Trust me.

A couple of weeks ago we purchased two items that seem to catch everyone’s attention when we set up camp at the beach. For us, the purchases were well worth the few extra dollars and they have easily paid themselves off in fewer than two visits to the beach. The first item is a sun tent. The best way to describe it is to think of a dome shaped tent, cut it half, and add two zipper windows on the sides. Forget umbrellas. This shelter can withstand the brightest sun, coolest breeze, and, with the windows zipped, block out that cigarette smoke from people who still choose to poison themselves with nicotine. The second item is a beach cargo carrier. Made out of lightweight plastic with a nylon net basket, this contraption is worth its weight in gold. There will be no more slinging bags like Mexican bandoleers across my body as I trudge up and down the beach to find the perfect afternoon site to set up our beach camp!

Yesteryear has definitely come and gone at the Gross household; and the last two years have ushered in a new and dramatically disparate reality. Gone are the days of three-hour bicycle rides through the countryside of Vermont; gone are the days of running six to nine miles on the water causeway; gone are the days of endless motorcycling and camping; and gone are the days of being able to sleep soundly and recover from all of it.

I like the change. I’ve come to appreciate the sacrifices and the unimaginable new joys that only other parents have experienced and can relate to. But I must candidly admit I never expected these changes to be this encompassing, this engrossing, and come on this fast. And still, at times, I find myself taking a step back in reflection and shaking my head in disbelief with where I’m at, what I’m doing, and how lucky I am to have the family I do.