On Sunday night I decided to throw the girls in the car and drive the 45 minutes to Saugatuck to watch the Sunset on the beach. The girls were so surprised and we got to enjoy a nearly empty beach while they ran amok. What is it with kids and sand? Mine freakin’ LOVE it. The trip was spontaneous so I didn’t pack their suits (high tides and I am a helicopter freak mom near water as it is…) or any snacks or beach toys besides some buckets that I keep in my trunk and they had the time of their life. They were making sand potions, digging for seashell money to pay me to watch the “sunset movie”, running after seagulls and taking turns burying each other. Lucy was crawling around like a little sand crab and stuffing sand into her mouth faster than I could keep up. They all seemed so happy and so content and it made my heart so full.
More often than not I am saying “no” to things. I don’t always feel bad about it–I have 3 small children that require constant supervision when we’re out and about so I try to not bite off more than I can chew. But I hope they remember the days I said “yes”.
Even if they don’t, I’ll remember them digging for seashells and placing them in my hand to keep them safe–trusting me with their most precious treasure. Even if they don’t, I’ll remember the squeals of laughter as they raced through the sand after a couple of seagull scavengers and the shrieks as they ran back to me because they were scared of them once they got close enough. Even if they don’t, I’ll remember Lucy falling asleep on my lap with the lake breeze blowing through her wispy hair and the pieces of sand that freckled her baby cheeks. Even if they don’t, I’ll remember them plopping down on either side of me and resting their heads on my legs while we watched the sun sink in the sky. Even if they don’t, I’ll remember toweling them off after the post-beach bath and helping them into their comfiest pajamas–I’ll remember Charlie telling me “Thank you for the best fun time ever” as I lingered in their doorway after kissing them goodnight.
I wish I could bottle it all up. To uncork it on the hard days when I need a reminder of just how good this all is. How lucky I really am.
These are the days. Truly, completely. So I guess I’ll just spend the next few years trying not to blink.