Saturday, May 5, 2012

The Beach (on cinco de mayo but we sort of forgot that until we got there).

We went to the beach!

so the kids could play in a kiddie pool with a view.

"It's like raaaiiiiiin, on your weddin' day! A free riiiiiide, when you've already paid..."

Let met explain. We wanted to take Genevieve to the beach for the first time (well, the first time since she looked like this):

but we've been burned in the past.

When Payne eight months old we took a trip to florida.
(Sorry for the scary face. It was either this or a close up of my right boob.)

Yay! Beach!

Except not so much. Payne haaaaaated the sand. Hated. He would gleefully grab fistfuls of it, and then rub his face, and then start crying because it was in his eyes, and then start snotting from crying, and then wipe snot and drool and sand into his mouth, and then start crying harder because there was sand in his mouth, and then become hysterical, and then one of us would carry the poor quivering mass of misery back to the condo for a bath and a nap.

So he ended up spending a week chillin with a view of the pool:

I was afraid that Genevieve would be the same way. Plus, I die a little each time one of my offspring munches on sand. Horrifying...

I was voicing my ocean recreation reservations to a friend and she was all "Well we just bring a blow up baby pool for the little ones and that way they stay out of the sand".

I was like...

"That is absolute genius."

As it turns out, Genevieve is cool with sand all over the place and cool with eating it as well (gag).

(Okay guys, check out the lack of knees. There is a little crease where a knee should be, but that's all she wrote.)

Oh, and see my son? He still exists! He just hates pictures. Blarg.

So the sand was a success, but the beach was full of spring seaweed and there was nowhere to play near the water easily so we busted out the world's tiniest baby pool anyway:

(Also, note that I carefully shifted that hat the left so the fabric bow was artfully placed "just so" over and over, and then by magic it would ooch and she would become a bownicorn again. Hmph.)

They both loved it!

I did not love wading through seaweed thirty times to fill up my pitifully small bucket in order to get the damn thing "full" with about four inches of water, but hey, next time I'll bring a bigger bucket.

The moral of the story: My friends are the MacGyvers of motherhood and I need to consult them on the best ways to schlepp mini people to any and all locations.

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