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Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Beached

There must be some sort of formula one can apply, post-beach excursion, that tells you how many hours worth of laundry one will be doing for every minute spent in the vicinity of the beach. It is truly astonishing how this works.

The whole family, terrier included, spent the weekend near the beach and finally everyone was able to participate. (Sebastian was finally able to get into tramping around in the sand, pouring it on his head, discovering what a taste sensation it is...) It is one of those pleasures that one doesn't have to teach. All kids love rolling around in the sand. It only takes about thirteen minutes at the beach before Felix resembles one of those crusty shore-dwelling Labrador retrievers-- sand caked into every hair follicle.

But I have become the stick-in-the-mud, or sand, or whatever. I am the person who looks over her shoulder and frets about sun screen and sand in the car, who curses herself for forgetting a towel and who has developed a body image so toxic it makes bathing suit wearing something of a challenge (though board shorts have come to the rescue a bit). How did this happen? Why?

It would have been preferable I think to have turned into one of those women I used to see at the pool on the roof of my grandparents' apartment. I thought they were remarkable with their matte lipstick and rigid hair, doing a revised breast stroke to keep everything above the water line. I was a bit put out with myself for not going into the water on this jaunt, for lingering like some crab carcass (of the sort that the terrier likes to find and gnaw on if given the change) on the shore. I don't care for being a spectator but there I was.

How much is one obliged to present one's kids with the beach? Should I make more of an effort to get them out there on weekends? So many people I know do make this a priority, while I am generally fine with staying in the city. How much should I really compromise my own comfort for that incredible kiddie pleasure? (Some of this navel gazing is really rhetorical since practical issues like work keep us all away from the surf anyway, but I do think about this a little. More than a little.)

posted by Elise at 6:38 AM

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