Yearns for a Sunburn (because that means I've been on the beach and have sat still long enough to lose track of time)

     Just looking at the picture made me breath a relaxed sigh.  A slight smile came on my face as I looked up from the book to a small group of students in front of me.  It was a picture of a beach.  Dunes surrounded the page with an image of an empty beach chair begging me to sit down, take a rest, enjoy.  There was a matching red & white striped umbrella next to the chair and in front lay endless sea, crashing waves and an eternal sense of happiness and sheer bliss.  My students smiled and shared stories about their experiences at a beach- which was the objective of the lesson but also a nice reprieve from our daily grind of skills, practice and assessment.  For a short time we were lost in our connections, our memories of happy times spent on the shore.  I could feel my feet in the sand, hear the crashing of the waves, sense the pages of a novel between my fingers and the steady warmth of the sun beating down on my skin.  I may have even given an audible sigh... until I was brought back to reality.
      When was the last time I enjoyed a trip to the beach in this way?  When did I allow myself to surrender to the sound of the waves, to forget so much about time that I actually got sun-poisoning (answer: Mexico 2001)?  No, the last time I went to the beach it was in New Jersey.  We entered the beach through a bar, which would have been promising except for the circumstances.  We walked up over the deck and saw the beautiful ocean laid out in front of us... and that's when Liam told me that he couldn't possibly carry his sand toys so I was left to lug all of his shovels and pails and sandcastle molds, with our chairs, and our towels, and our sunscreen, and the umbrella, and somewhere in there (piled at the bottom) my book.  We settled in and soon were in the water with Liam.  The year before when we went to the ocean, Liam was scared but this time he was much more brave so me & my 9 month pregnant sister decided to go a little deeper- just below waist high. The waves were fun, we jumped and giggled.  It was a bit too late before we noticed a gigantic wave that was just about to crash right over our heads and sure enough it did, tossing all three (actually four if you count the baby) of us forward.  Now I remember being washed ashore as a kid and hating it but loving it at the same time. Thankfully, that's how Liam felt about the experience (after we got the salt out of his eyes) but me and my sister had a much different feeling about the experience of being trashed by a wave as a mother.  For my sister, obviously it was unpleasant and scary but she managed to protect her baby-belly.  For me it was highly traumatic- not just during as I thrust Liam as far up and forward as I could, away from the breaking wave so he wouldn't drown.  Afterwards I couldn't help but imagine that he had been swept away by the wave into the undertow.  You know when you just can't stop thinking of the worst-case-scenario? 
     What is there to enjoy at the beach if you can't play in the waves?  Maybe some sunbathing?  And that's about when I realized I was the only female on the beach wearing a "Mom Suit" complete with tankini and matching skirt.  Really, everyone (even my pregnant sister) was wearing a bikini.  I do own bikinis, it's just that over the years of going to public & community center pools and state park beaches, it's just kind of been beaten out of me.  Moms wear mom-suits, not bikinis.  Apparently that rule doesn't apply on the New Jersey Shore. Okay so I wasn't going to win best-dressed or sexiest lady on the beach.  Once I gave that up, we started looking for shells and clams and I had to keep up with Liam who kept hitting on cute girls (telling them all about who knows what) because he doesn't fully grasp the need for personal space... ever.  Plus I sat under an umbrella- that's how I know I'm over 30.  I actually sat under an umbrella.  And somehow, I still got a sunburn on my shoulder.  Ridiculous.
     And that was it.  Going to the beach wasn't nearly as relaxing as I'd remembered it before I had responsibility over another human being.  It just isn't the same anymore.  And as that realization hit me, the kids in the small group looked sympathetically toward me and told me that soon enough, Liam & Josh would be old enough to play on their own at the beach.  Someday they would run in the waves on their own and build their own sandcastles with the seashells they found without me.  But these were shallow reassurances.  Because I know these children.  I know that their moms have taken them to the beach with full intent of drinking a daiquiri and reading a chapter (just one chapter) in their book only to be handed the boogie board their son couldn't carry by himself, to pick up the sunglasses she dropped as she ran full force into the water, to watch nervously as he jumped fearlessly into a giant crashing wave, to listen to endless nagging about why she couldn't have a virgin daiquiri and whether he could have $ so he could rent one of those cool banana boats or go para sailing.  And I know most of their moms probably couldn't even find the bikini (just like me) and here these sweet children were telling me that soon I would get to relax but I totally didn't believe them.
     No, there will be no relaxing at a beach anytime soon; at least not without a babysitter and a couple of airline tickets.  I might never again pack lightly for the beach.  But I am pretty sure next time I go to the Jersey Shore, at the very least, I will pack my bikini (if I can find it).