Saturday, October 21, 2006

Beach Day

Ok, I've got...exactly one hour before I default on my NaBloPoMo commitment. Here, a quick retrospective of my afternoon the other day:

Thursday afternoon, Christy and I decide to run down to the beach because it's been so. incredibly beautiful lately - hot, some warm winds, and those incredibly deep blue skies, even in California. We had her kids, so we figured it'd be easiest to go to East Beach and have a good long walk along the water's edge.

As we got down along the sand, I caught a snoot-full of the tang of rotting flesh - just the thing to set off the salty breeze of the ocean, right? I was unfortunately cursed with an extremely heightened sense of smell, and so ended up thisclose to vomiting by the time Christie could even smell it. Gaaaag. Again may I note what a very bad pregnoid I'd make.

Since their family had spent the two days prior at Disneyland, little Bella was a bit tired. Being in a state of 'without nap', she suddenly turned into a pre-menstrual sixteen year old on the night before prom. In a word, completely unmanageable, unbribeable, intractable, and enough to drive most anyone up the bloody wall. She refused to follow along with us, had to pee more than an incompetent basset hound after a pitcher of iced tea, and cried at the drop of a hat. Not the most fun, really.

I tried carrying her, but the child is huge, has been since birth, and it just isn't practical. I tried schlepping her across my hip and letting her dangle off, Africa-style, but that wasn't doing it either. We tried suggesting projects, cajoling her, making her laugh, telling her to stop crying now...and nothing worked. Around a mile and a half later, we happened on a young dad, his toddling daughter, and their cute dog.

The dog, a cute Sheltie mix, wanted to play Fetch with log-sized sticks. Trying to explain the cause and effect of throwing a four-foot stick for a dog to a crabby four year old was not my most successful undertaking. Of course we ended up with a scraped arm, more tears and very hurt feelings. I called in the big guns (mini Butterfinger and fake crying) and it seemed to cheer her up for a minute or two. May I stress the phrase "a minute or two" here...minutes later, she was about to turn on the waterworks. I heaved a huge sigh, gave up and told her very sternly that she had now 'broken her promise to me" by crying, and that I would not "play with her again" if she acted like that. In the end, I had the kids take turns jumping on me, piggyback style, and then we'd run down the beach, chasing each other and screaming with laughter.

I was so glad to go home to the silence of our house, exhausted and ready for a martini.


Janet said...

I need a martini, too! If I were in SB we could go grab a drink :o)

Meepers said...

I'd definitely get you one, too! (So long as you don't sue...)