beach lessons

Last week, we packed up the back of our van with seven suitcases, a pack-n-play, a double stroller, a wagon stuffed full of towels and blankets and toy shovels, a cooler, and three kites. It’s a big van, y’all. We made the seven-hour drive to the Oregon Coast in a little over nine hours, because we’ve learned to stop for picnics and google the nearest park to let the wiggles out at least every three hours. No rushing the road trips in this family. 

We pulled up to our adorable rental with only one truly unhappy toddler, and as soon as the front door was unlocked, the kids were running through the house exploring their new surroundings like little puppies who’ve just been let outside. I get this bed! I call the top bunk! This room has a tv in it, mom! 

Once the suitcases were unloaded and the dinner we brought from home was in the oven cooking, I was itching to go to the beach. Our house was just a few blocks up from the shoreline, and since there are at least six years between me and the last time I heard the waves close up, I couldn’t wait one more minute. Jordi and Beckett came with me while the rest of the crew stayed at the house, and as we got closer and closer to the water, my boys’ anticipation took over their voices and bodies. There it is! There’s the beach! Beckett squealed. Mom! It’s the ocean! Jordi pointed. The wind was truly wild, so fierce that you nearly had to turn your head away from it to keep your eyes open. But it was their first glimpse, their first taste of something so vast one can barely comprehend it. And it was magic.

After a morning looking at starfish and playing in the low tide, a day trip to Cannon Beach and flying kites at Haystack Rock, then a fun morning at the Tillamook Cheese Factory where we had amazing grilled cheese sandwiches and big bowls of ice cream, our last night came quickly. It had rained most of the morning and into the early afternoon, but just after we had pizza for dinner, the sun finally made her appearance. Anyone want to go get one more look at the ocean with me? I asked. Cannon and Jordi were in, so we put our shoes on and headed out. 

It was another windy evening, and the waves were strong, but nothing could stop the boys from playing tag with the water rolling onto the shore. Their confidence grew with each narrow escape, but before I could even warn them, a stronger wave rolled in quickly. Cannon was able to mostly outrun it with only wet ankles, but Jordi was not so fortunate. The wave caught his feet, then his knees, then knocked him forward completely and my six-year-old, who had walked to the beach with me fully clothed, was suddenly under water up to his neck with a wave still rolling over him. The whole scene was much funnier to me than it was to him.

Mom! Help me! He yelled. And as the wave began to roll back where it came from, I walked over and lifted his soaking body up from the sand and stifled my giggles. It’s not funny mom! He said to me. It was scary.

I’m sure it was, bud. I was watching though, you were ok. The ocean is strong, isn’t it? I told him.

After a few deep breaths and an assurance of safety, he started smiling. Yeah, it knocked me right over! He giggled. 

It sure did, bud. I’m glad you’re ok.

Me, too. I’ll be more careful next time, he tells me.

I smile at him and send him back to his game, my little but getting bigger boy with the bluest eyes you ever did see. I’m so glad you learned that, I think to myself. Because we are all, always, learning what to do differently next time.