Beach Bumbling

06.15.06

            I took my almost 3 year old daughter to Wisconsin Point last week.  I’d had visions of her playing on the shore, squealing when the cold Lake Superior water lapped at her toes, dashing in and out of said water shrieking with glee.

            It didn’t go that way, of course.  Things never go the way I imagine they will.

            To get to the beach of Wisconsin Point you drive a long way on a really crappy road.  The scrub brush and trees and sand dunes completely obliterate any view of the lake or the shoreline.  In fact, my girl sagely said from the back seat, “Mom! This is a forest.”

            I parked at a little parking area that had no other cars, ‘cause who knows what kind of weirdos are at the beach at 10:30 in the morning.  I wasvery glad that my daughter can carry her own bucket and shovel because I was as laden as any pack mule for the trek up the dunes. 

            I had my giant non-PC Marlboro bag slung over my shoulder.  Inside were beach towels, a picnic lunch, two bottles of pop, one bottle of water, one sippy cup of juice, sunscreen, a hat, 1 pair of extra kid shoes, 2 diapers, 3 paperback books, a notebook and pen, my digital camera, and my cell phone.  And a zip-lock baggie filled with the most essential thing of all – (no, not THAT) – baby wipes.  (Sheesh, what are you people thinking?)

            Slung over my arm was a great heavy wool beach blanket.  Why this particular blanket is the beach blanket I have no idea, but it’s the one that’s always in my trunk and that’s what it gets used for.

            Tucked under my other arm was the umbrella from my outside patio furniture set.  Because there is no shade at Wisconsin Point (Park Point, either, for that matter) and 88 degrees beneath the full hot sun can be miserable.

            So there, I’ve got absolutely everything (and then some) and we’re ready for the beach.   I hand my girl her bucket of sand toys and tell her to head up the sand dune.

            I follow her up the dune and over the crest and the whole beautiful sandy beach and endless lake stretches out before us.

            My girl stops dead in her tracks.  “I don’t like this beach, Mom.”

            My arms are tired.  Heck, my legs hurt already because my body isn’t accustomed to walking on sand.  I give her a nudge. “This is a great beach.  Go.”  She doesn’t move.  “Go!  Let’s go by the water.”

            “I don’t like that water, Mom,” and it comes out a shrieking cry.

            I go around her and head down the beach.  Sand flies are buzzing around my feet and biting my ankles.  It’s not very pleasant.  But it’s HOT.  I’ve been cold for months and want nothing more than to worship this sun for a while.

            The kid watches from the top of the dune while I spread out the blanket, and plant the umbrella into the sand.  Then she comes down and says, “I don’t like this beach.  I want to go home,” and she starts to cry.

            I dig in the bag and distract her with a bottle of orange pop.

            Thirty seconds later I’m using baby wipes to soak orange pop off the wool blanket.

            The sand flies are going nuts, and I’m fairly certain the ants will be joining us shortly.

            But things do improve.  I show her how to fill a bucket with sand, tamp it down, and tip it over to make a sand castle.  She smashes it with great joy.

            I make more “buildings” (as she calls them), and she smashes them.

            I convince her to let me make a small city, and, like a good stealth bomber, she annihilates each and every structure.

            My daughter, destined to become a demolitions expert.

            We sunbathe.  She buries me in the sand.  When it gets unbearably hot we crawl to our blanket that’s so nicely shaded by the lawn umbrella and spill more pop.  The umbrella only falls over once.  Far down the beach we can see some kids playing in the water, but mine won’t go near it.  “That water’s too big, Mom.”

            I learned three things for next time:  Number 1 – it’s ridiculously pointless to shower and get ready for work before going to the beach.   Number 2 – if you want to relax and read or write or whatever, park NEXT to the minivan, not 4 blocks down the beach from it.  Number 3 – one zip lock baggie filled with wipes isn’t enough – better to bring the whole container of wipes and save the baggies for better things.

            Peace out.  Enjoy the beach.