So I have some holiday catching up to do here. I’ll work backwards from the 4th through Wyatt and Amaiah’s birthdays. Hopefully I’ll make before I need to post Brian’s.
The kiddos and I spent the day with friends at the beach. Do I really need to say anymore than that? How blessed are we? It was quite a harrowing journey getting there though. So here’s the cast–me, a cooler FULL of drinks and ice, two kids below hip height, a backpack, a beach bag, and each kid carrying some type of snack. We set out for the beach at 11:00 and while we’re driving I get a call from our friend (who by the way got to the beach at 5:45AM and basically sprinted with a baby in her arms to get a fire pit) saying,”Hey it’s pretty crowded, parking might be tough.” Looking back now, I think what she meant to say was, “Hey, remember giving birth? Finding parking will be harder than that.” As we got closer all movement slowed to a crawl, cones appeared, cops waving their arms appeared, people driving like they’re from Utah appeared. I make a few u-turns, do some deep breathing, and sweetly ask the cop if I may go through to dump off all our stuff, including the kids, thinking that I can walk pretty far if I have to as long as it’s just me. He tells me to shove it and move on. So then I start driving up and down PCH looking (along with 100 other people) for that one golden person pulling away from the curb. No luck. So then I get the bright idea to pull into one of the hotels along PCH, haul the kids inside and offer them cash for parking.
Can I give you $20 to let me park here?
How about if my daughter does a tap dance for you; she’s already wearing her tap shoes. See?
My son can Irish step dance?
Back into the car
Then our informant (my friend Kenz) tells us the word on the street is you can drive to a high school far away, park in their parking lot and take a school bus back to the beach. Some how I find my way to this magical high school where we park and unload it all. Never mind that I have to figure out how to get all this stuff on and off a bus. Some nice man who obviously had a good mama offered to hoist it onto a seat for me. And off we go, until we get to the drop off, which is not even close to where I need to be. We all unload (thanks to that nice man again) and begin hoofin’ it. After about five minutes I seriously consider donating the cooler and it’s contents to the city. We press on and I keep encouraging myself with dramatic thoughts like, “Come on Shal, women in Africa do this all day long just to get drinking water. You can do it in the name of sitting on a beautiful beach for the next twelve hours, can’t you?” And I could of course, and we finally roll into town with blistering palms and sweat dripping everywhere (but at least I wasn’t smelly thanks to the vodka in my pits).
We ended up having an incredible day filled with good fellowship and equally good fireworks. I hope yours was just as lovely, and a million times easier to get to.