Moms versus Kids

In the hard-fought battle of mom versus kids, the kids most always win. They have sheer numbers on their side. Plus, a knack for modern technology that we'll never have. And a natural lack of modesty. We're just no match, no matter what we do.

Still, I wake up each day ready to fight again. I never think I'm going to lose, but go to bed each night out run and out smarted. But, I never learn.

Last week, my friend Jen was down in Ocean City with her four kids. After a weekend family get together while the husbands were around, we decided to try it again: seven kids and two moms.

We met at Jen's house, packed lunches, gathered our beach gear, sprayed the kids down with sun screen, loaded our beach bags to the brim and marched the kids to the beach. It was quite an effort to get to the beach, as it always is with kids, but once we got there, the kids had a great time and entertained each other. I actually sat on my beach chair for a full 10 minutes, a never before achieved feat! We made a good team, as we switched off playing lifeguard to the older children playing in the surf and playing watch dog to the young-uns, apt to throw sand at passers by.

The day went swimmingly, and we congratulated ourselves as we left the beach. Not only had we survived, the kids were happy, no one was bleeding, neither of us had had to yell. That's what I call a good day.

So, we kept going. We put the babies down for a nap and let the good times continue with a dip in the pool. The older kids swam all afternoon, stopping now and then for a snack or for a rest in the sun. Again, the kids were happy, no one was bleeding, and still, no yelling.

So, we kept going. The kids were tired, they'd been together all day and it was dinner time. What would any mother with seven kids in her care do? Why, take them to a restaurant, of course!

Most restaurants in Ocean City are very family friend. We choose Uncle Bill's down on 40th Street. I hesitate to give too many details about the restaurant, since I'm not sure that they are still in business after being pelted with the kid storm that we brought in with us.

Jen and I will probably always refer to this as the Ocean City Restaurant Incident of 2009. No one was bad, really, but put seven kids and two moms in a restaurant together, and it is unlikely that anyone will leave unscathed. Two kids spilled their milk, so the floor was soon wet with puddles of chocolate and plain milk, with soggy dinner napkins in the middle of each spill, an unsuccessful attempt to clean up our clumsiness. Four of the kids talked nonstop about different topics interesting only to boys between the ages of 4 and 9. I won't get into details here. If you've ever talked to a 7-year-old boy, you know. Plates were passed back and forth. Straws were traded. They stood up, they sat down. The laughed and laughed. Charlotte screamed to get out of her high chair, so I spent the majority of the meal standing up with her on my hip, eating my hamburger with my free hand.

We attracted some attention from the restaurant hostess. Following our second milk spill and Charlotte's melt down, she can over to see if everything was okay. We smiled and apologized for the mess and the noise. We were doing the best we could. Her eyes quietly scanned our table and her lips pursed into a tight circle. "Oh," she quietly said, and backed away from the table.

It got much worse. Much worse. I'll leave it to your imagination. The restaurant was practically empty, but our waitress was suddenly busy. Very busy. She raced back and forth between the kitchen and her two other tables. I think she was trying to disassociate herself from our table. Maybe she was hoping that we'd pull a "dine and dash." After waiting for 15 minutes for our check, we thought about it. I think they would have let us go without much of a chase if we promised never to come back.

Jen is a very talented photographer and we wanted to follow up our restaurant adventure with a trip to Corson's Inlet to take some photos of the kids. The plan was for her to photograph my kids while I watched hers. We took our clean, fed, happy children to the beach. I expected mine to smile for the camera. I expected hers to sit with me as I kept them engaged with a rousing game of Simon Says.

Needless to say, we left the beach an hour later with seven wet and sandy children. Exhausted, we cleaned them up and got them into their respective cars. "What about dessert?" they questioned. They could have kept going. We were done. Jen got some lovely photos of Charlotte, including the one in this post. Next time, though, I'll rent some models to stand in for my older children.

The day didn't go quite as I expected, but the kids were happy, no one was bleeding, neither of us had to yell--much. I'd call that a good day. Still, I'd chalk up the day as a win for the kids, once again. Kids, 1. Moms, 0. But, a good day nonetheless. You can't win them all.

Good Company

"So, you're here? By yourself? With 3 kids?" My neighbor across the alley, a woman with children my age, quickly scribbled down her phone number for me. "For emergencies," she explained.

She's not the first to question how I manage to survive down here, a weekday single mom. Ocean City is our retreat, our escape from the rat race. As this town blooms with visitors for the summer season, people are every where. I don't know a ton of people, but am fine to get some adult contact by chatting with a neighbor, conversing with the many old ladies who stop me to see the kids, talking to the water ice guy on the boardwalk. Some adult conversation sprinkled throughout the day, that helps keep me going.

But, I have to wonder, do they kids need more than my company? There is no lack of children to play with--the boys next door are down often, kids who rent nearby homes for a week or two, the playgrounds are just crawling with little darlings and friends come to visit. But, as far as adults go, I'm just about it for them from Monday through Friday.

Last night, we joined my friend Julie and her three boys in Sea Isle City for the "Sarah the Turtle Festival." Our cousin, Kate, also a Sea Isle summer resident, joined us. The Sea Isle promenade was packed with so many kids and not so many activities. We fought the crowds for a while, and then snuck off to Yum Yum for some ice cream before the masses caught on. All the boys sat at one table, while Julie, Kate, Charlotte and I sat at another. The boys had a great time, eating multi-colored ice cream on cones, their laughter attracting the attention from everyone else. (It was cute, not annoying, I swear.)

After, the kids and I headed back to Kate's house, initially for a bathroom break. But, as we tend to do, we made ourselves at home. And, as they tend to do, the boys got hungry, despite devouring ice cream cones just moments before. Always the gracious hostess, Kate put out snacks of chips and dips. Carter also helped himself to a banana. Charlotte serenaded us by playing a pot and spoon ensemble.

Then, the real entertainment began. Will told Kate everything he has learned this summer about marine life--turtles, sea stars, horseshoe crabs. Everything. I'm sure you've heard a conversation like this before, with each sentence starting with a breathless "and, then. . . and, then. . . and, then." Not to be outdone, Carter did math problems for Kate. "Do you know what one plus one is? It's two!" Carter liked Kate's reaction, so he continued. As his math equations got more complicated, he'd ask me to whisper him the answer, sometimes having to come back two and three times for the answer again, before he could show off his knowledge.

When Matt and Lindsay came home, they could hardly get a word in edgewise. Carter went into his schstick about the Wii and probably talked a full 30 minutes straight. If they ever had a question about the Wii, surely Carter has answered it. And, if listening to someone talk could physically exhaust you, this lopsided conversation was a perfect example. The chatter continued as we walked to our car, as both boys tried to talk their captive audience into sitting in the back seat and coming home with us. I'm sure they were glad for their escape and grateful for the peace and quiet once we had gone.

The boys, so happy to have entertained some willing subjects for the evening, did their best to keep their heavy eyes open on the car ride back over the bridge. Even Charlotte fought sleep, babbling non stop from her car seat. They were all obviously recharged from the change of pace, and the adult attention from someone other than me. But, once our sleepy heads hit their pillows, sleep came easily for us all.

Lions and Tigers and Bears!

Oh my, is right! Another dreary day here in Ocean City. The sun was shining briefly this morning--giving us time for a bike ride down the boardwalk and to the library--but was soon shrouded in clouds. . . again. We skipped the beach and headed to the Cape May Zoo instead.

This was our second trip to the Cape May Zoo. It is about 20 minutes south on the Garden State Parkway from Ocean City--a pretty easy trip. Admission is free, although a donation is requested. Parking is free, too, and there is a pretty nice playground nearby. I could see packing a picnic lunch next time and eating at the playground before heading inside. (No food is allowed inside the zoo itself and I have seen them look through bags before.)

Prior to our first trip to this zoo, I had feared it was of Elmwood Park, in Norristown, quality. We took our first trip to that zoo a few years ago--Carter and I tagged along with Will's preschool class. Carter was excited to see his favorite animals--"zebwas and gowillas"--but, alas, there is nothing more exotic than deer and buffalo at that zoo. Of course, the Cape May Zoo is nothing compared to the one in Philadelphia, but it is a nice destination on a cloudy day at the beach.

Best of all, they have "zebwas"--plenty of them. And lions, tigers and a plethora of monkeys. The layout of the zoo is beautiful, really adorable. You follow a series of wooden bridges under a canopy of native trees and stop for viewing animals along the way. Each animal exhibit has plenty of information. Will usually insists that I read every word, but this time, he was content just to look.

Our trip started as we meandered through the zoo's trails, looking at birds, including a talking parrot (which Will insisted must be a robot), monkeys, tigers and more. As we got to the African savanna, specifically the zebras, it started to pour. We found some shelter and got to spend some quality time with Carter's striped friends. He was sure they were wagging their tails at him. And yet, after probably 30 minutes spent looking at zebras, we still don't know what they say. (In our version of Old MacDonald, they say "stripe, stripe here and a stripe, stripe there.")

Will, always prepared for any weather situation, donned his hoodie sweatshirt. Charlotte was protected by her floppy hat and stroller shade. Carter didn't mind the rain. So, we ran for it. Straight to the reptile house, seeking shelter more than a look-see at our slimy, slithery friends.

Unfortunately, the bad weather meant that two of the highlights of a trip to the Cape May Zoo--a mini train ride and carousel--were closed. If the rainy weather continues, I imagine we'll take another trip down the park way, just for the train and carousel ride.

Walking on the beach

Charlotte is officially a walker now. She seemed to figure it out over night and now is a firm believer that anywhere she used to go on four, she can now get there faster on two.

I love to watch her on the move--each step of her chunky legs so deliberate as her pink-slippered feet pad down the sidewalk.

After dinner, she likes to pace down the sidewalk in front of our house, parading her new-found skill to the neighbors. Her wide-mouth smile and belly laugh tell the world how proud she is of herself.

I think walking on the beach must be hard for our little explorer. The sand slows her down, but makes for such a nice cushion for her oh-so-frequent falls. She plops down onto her bottom and quickly climbs her way back up on two feet to begin again.

As she has started her exploration of the world as a walker, her vocabulary has exploded. We stroll down the beach as she points out birds and babies. She does not believe she is a baby any longer and seems so charmed by the newborns on the beach, swaddled in their mothers' arms, resting under an umbrella, or sleeping in a stroller. "Baba, baba," she'll announce and it will bring me back to last summer, when she was the little bundle, sleeping in my arms and smiling at her sand-castle-building brothers from under her umbrella.

As Will and Carter dig in the sand, Charlotte collects sea shells. She toddles down the shoreline and squats down as different objects catch her eye. We'll hold hands, with Charlotte grabbing onto my index finger. She stop, exclaiming "Mama, mama," and squat down to grab a seashell or stone, rounded smooth by the ocean waves. She hoards her find in her dimpled hands, until another treasure catchs her eye. She squats down onto her haunches again, dropping her rock for a better shell, then her shell for a better rock. She'll sometimes manage to to stuff a few small shells into her little hands, and giggles, charmed by the playthings she has discovered and so proud of her accomplishments.

As I walk with her, I am equally as charmed, and as proud.

Fishing on the Dock of the Bay

The boys, Will in particular, have been after me for some time to take them fishing. Of course, I immediately agreed to the idea of fishing "some day," and have since then been on the search to find someone who could provide some instruction. I'm a girl to whom camping means sleeping at the Marriott, so some of the intricacies of fishing are not so appealing to me, like baiting the hook or touching a fish.

Still, wanting to appeal to their male hunting and gathering instincts, I was so excited to find out about fishing from the dock of the Wetlands Institute. It takes place every Saturday at 9:30 am. A staff member gives the kids instruction, helps them bait the hooks, and sets them off to fish for themselves off the dock. (Teach a kid to fish. . . there's a metaphor in here somewhere.)

We headed out to the Institute this Saturday morning. It was a gray morning, good fishing weather, one might assume. The fishing pier is a healthy walk through the marsh--a pair of sneakers and a sturdy stroller would be helpful--but the walk alone makes the trip worthwhile. Every so often, we'd come across little black cages along the path, which we can to discover were protecting turtle eggs from raccoons, skunks and other predators. We even saw a mother turtle laying her eggs in a nest--a great culmination to the lessons we'd learned about turtles during our last trip to the Institute. They do lead official tours through the marsh and I hope to take the kids later in the summer.

Once at the dock, each child got his own fishing pole and a mini tutorial on how to operate the rod and reel. The instructor then marched our little fishermen out on the dock, they cast their lines, and they waited. "Do you know what another name for fishing is?," the instructor asked. The children didn't. "It's called waiting," she explained.

So they waited and waited. And waited and waited. And, so they tell us, that is fishing.

I had instructed the boys to catch us a fish for dinner. Carter was the first to hook something--a tasty bunch of seaweed. He opted to release his catch and we had pizza for dinner instead.

Wetlands Institute

Another rainy day in Ocean City and I was in the mood to get out of the house and do something new. I'd been reading about the Wetlands Institute in Stone Harbor, so following a morning trapped indoors by the weather, we hopped in the car for a fun adventure.

If you're headed from Ocean City, it is an easy drive--straight down the GSP, exiting at Stone Harbor Drive. It is just past the exit for the Cape May Zoo, a charming little spot when you're in need of a beach reprieve. Combined with the Wetlands Institute, it would be a great day trip.

The Wetlands Institute (http://www.wetlandsinstitute.org/) is a cedar-shingled building surrounded by wetlands. They focus on education, specifically the wetlands and shore environments and, in particular, terrapins. If you've ever helped a turtle cross the road in Strathmere (and no, this is not the beginning of a bad joke), you might not know that you were "volunteering" for the Wetlands Institute!

We got there just in time to join into a presentation just for kids--all about Spongebob Square Pants. It was cleverly done. The kids were shown pictures of the characters from Spongebob, given the opportunity to talk about each one, and then shown what the real sea creature looks like. Then, the kids got the chance to actually touch a sea sponge (as in Bob), a sea snail (Gary), a sea star (Patrick) and a spider crab (Mr. Krabs). Will, who had been nicknamed by his first grade teacher "Dr. Will" for his love of science and his penchant for stealing away class discussion and directing it towards a topic he is interested in, was captivated. He's now on a quest to find a sea star so he can break it in half and grow his own.

The Institute is also home to two osprey, now proud parents of four chicks. They have a camera on the nest and we got to see the mama osprey leave the nest to stretch her wings, while the father stayed guard, and then return to feed her baby chicks. An amazing sight.

Another part of the Institute focuses just on terrapins. Interns from Stockton College work on helping injured turtles and taking eggs from turtles that have been run over in the street. (Eggs that have been fertilized can be grown in captivity.) Will, again, loved all the details about the turtles, and we learned the correct way to pick one up to help it across the road. Carter, Charlotte and I loved seeing all the baby turtles swimming around in the tank.

The kids' favorite part was a building filled with hands-on exhibits, including an opsrey nest for the kids to climb in. It is a small space (and would certainly be a whole lot easier to navigate if it were not for people like Lincoln and Tristan's mom thinking that the entire place only existed for her to take photos of her bratty boys. I digress, but would be remiss if I didn't also mention that I was as grossed out at her mom jeans as I was annoyed by her children.) and full of things to see. The highlight, in my opinion, was a teaching pool, a shallow tank filled with creatures the kids were allowed to pick up. Will loved that many of the exhibits focused on some of the treasures he's been finding on the beach, including horseshoe crabs and "mermaid's purses," which, we know now, are actually skate egg cases. They had several exhibits with buttons to push, drawers to open and puzzles to assemble, to the delight of both Carter and Charlotte (and every other child in there). On Tuesdays and Thursdays at 3:15, they do an aquarium feeding. That was the event that brought us to the Institute to begin with, but it was crowded and Charlotte was getting antsy, so we opted to skip it and headed to the gift shop instead.

Of course, you had to walk through the gift shop to get to the exhibits. Maybe that was the real highlight for the kids. It was filled with stuffed animals, including many ducks and birds. Charlotte does a deep-throated half growl, half quack when she sees a duck and entertained everyone with her very,very loud animal sounds.

Admission is $7 for adults and $5 for children over 2. They had so many more events we want to try, we go the family membership for $40. We plan to go back for a fishing trip on Saturday. (They bait the hooks, cast the lines and the kids get to pull them in, catching mostly sea weed, or so I'm told.) Had we been better dressed for cold, windy weather, we would have stayed for the marsh walk, a guided tour through the marshland, or gone bird watching from the observatory. I'd love to go back one day for the kayak tour through the back bays.

This was a great rainy day activity and I'm sure we'll go a lot this summer. We're not going to wait for a rainy day to go back though. It would be worth a day of sunshine to explore.

Don't read this blog!

I love life at the beach and think that you would love Ocean City, too. But if you're planning a trip here, read no further. There are some things I don't want you to know. . .



I don't want you to find out that as much fun as sand is to play in, it is a real drag to clean up. It fills every nook and cranny. The minute I finish vacuuming it up, there is more. It seems to breed inside my house. I'd be embarassed if you found out that sometimes our sheets are sandy, too.

I'm not going to tell you that laundry doesn't do itself here. We each seem to go through 3 outfits a day, not including pajamas. Each outfit we take off is dirty--completely dirty. (See paragraph about sand above.) I would hate for you to find out that once washed and dried, the clothes don't fold themselves either.



The kids have a good time here, that is true. But I'm not going to tell you that they get scolded here for putting their feet on the couch (again, see paragraph about sand) and eating snacks right in front of the TV, which seems to leave many crumbs on the floor and furniture. I won't tell you about the bugs that will so easily invade your house for tasty morsels left on the floor. Ants, spiders, and I'm afraid of what else is out there, but you won't here it from me.



Even more, I'm not going to tell you that as much as they love to run and scream outside, the kids get in trouble for doing so inside the house. We have upstairs neighbors and we like them a lot. They seem to like us, too, so I want to keep it that way.



Speaking of kids, mums the word about hermit crabs, too. Some people might tell you that they are a low maintenance pet. They still poop and need to eat, and have their cages cleaned out, but you won't hear that from me. I won't horrify you with the fact that I just read that some hermit crabs can live with the same family for 30 years.



Ugh. Grocery shopping. 'nuff said. I won't tell anyone that I don't even enjoy trips to Target when I'm at the beach. On the island, grocery store aisles are so narrow, you have to do a strategic 5-point turn with your cart, just to face the other way. The closest Target is 25 minutes away, requiring a trip over the bridge and two toll rodes.


Shhhhh! I don't want you to find out about our dinners, either. Sometimes, we sit down for a meal of chicken, rice and a green salad. But, often, dinners are slices of cheese piled upon crackers and carrots and pita chips which dive deep into garlicky hummus and are washed down with a long swig from a juice box, a kid style happy hour.


I'm not going to tell you about bedtime either. Eventually, we all sleep, but late nights are spent on the front porch, until we can no longer feel our bare toes from the night air. As sleepy as we get, we often turn on a movie, or, the kids' favorite, an episode of Wipeout, and stay up well past our bedtime. I hope you don't drive past my house at night to see us all breaking our curfew--or worse, the two boys and me asleep on the couch. Not that we snore or sleep with our mouthes wide open or anything like that. I'll never tell.



So, I hope you didn't read this. There are some things better left between me, the kids and the hermit crabs.

Simple but Extraordinary

To my friends who jaunt off to distant locales and tropical islands for their vacations, to those who have been around the world twice, to those who rack up frequent flyer miles for their next reprieve, I have a hard time describing life here in Ocean City.

Nothing fancy here. If we wear shoes at all, they are flip flops. Bathing suits all day, followed by a comfy pair of fluffy sweat pants in the cool evenings. We rarely eat out, save for a morning walk to Dot's on Asbury for some donuts or butter cake or an evening trip to Kessel's Korner, also on Asbury, for ice cream sundaes or, the boys' favorite, "crybaby" water ice--a sweet and sour concoction that makes me cringe!

Yesterday was cool and windy here. The water was warm enough to swim, but the wind kicked up sand and made it hard to enjoy, except for the wind surfers, who entertained us by letting the winds fill their kites and carry them down the shore line. I called the kids in earlier than usual, and on our walk home, I wondered how I would entertain them for the afternoon.

After a shower and a snack, they headed outside and were joined by their friends next door. Soon, the air was filled with the joyful sounds of children laughing. Is there a better sound? No television, no video games, no toys. They had the time of their lives with an old phone book, some sidewalk chalk and a plastic bin. Our driveway became a secret fort. The front yard became an emergency clinic, where Will made paper towel "casts" for Carter's stubbed toe. They became pilots parachuting off our front porch-turned-airplane-in-distress. They became soldiers, involved in a dangerous secret mission.

At one point, I saw all four boys playing dead in the front yard--tongues hanging out of their mouths, eyes squeezed shut, stifling excitement and laughter. After a moment or two of silences, one boy slowly sat up and announced, "Hey, not everyone can be dead at the same time!" So two revived, and a game of emergency hospital began again.

At dusk, they enjoyed frozen ice pops, while sitting on the front steps, unabashedly trading popsicles so they could each enjoy every color and flavor.

It wasn't an ideal beach day, but that didn't stop the fun. Simple fun, but extraordinary nonetheless.

Working in a coal mine. . .

Workin' in a coal mine

Goin' down down down

Workin' in a coal mine

Whop! about to slip down



The lyrics to the old Lee Dorsey song are what go through my head when I watch my boys play on the beach. By the ocean, every kid has his game of choice. Some like paddle ball, others the boogie board. Some work diligently on sand castles, complete with sea shell kings and queens. But my boys, my boys like to dig.

We have a "only take what you can carry" rule when it comes to beach time, which pretty much means that each boy can take two toys--one for each hand. Will never varies in his beach toy choices--in one hand, his faithful boogie board, which he lets trail behind him as he pulls it by its leash, and in the other hand, a shovel. The handle of the shovel is bigger than he is. He purposefully swings the shovel up over his shoulder and marches off for a long day of play.

Once we hit the sand, Will finds his spot. As I set up my chair and towel, he starts to dig. And he digs until he hits water. Then he picks another, seemingly random spot, and begins the process again.

Today was no different. Will put his dowsing skills to work and diligently began to dig. But instead of water, he found treasure. No, not chests filled with gold and gems, but little boy treasure. He found parts of a horseshoe crab shell and various parts and pieces of other dearly departed crustaceans. With his big shovel, he plopped each find into my open beach bag, hoping to take his treasure home, to protect it all summer long, and to take it with him for show-and-tell on the first day of the second grade.

Will does not dig alone. Carter is often his partner in crime. And, the two of them have made fast friends with our new summertime neighbors, two boys next door named Michael and Matthew. Maybe it is a boy thing, because they love to dig, too.

Most of the time, I'm happy to supervise the digging process. Today, the moms got to join in. I'm not quite sure how it started, but before we knew it, we had four boys buried up to the neck in sand.

And then, after a long day of watching the boys' beach labors, we suddenly found ourselves with four still, quiet boys. And we enjoyed about five minutes of peace before their digging began. . .again.

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike. . .

Ocean City is such a great place to bike. Last year, at the end of the season, Craig bought us used beach cruisers from the bike rental place on 34th street. (Most of the bike rental places do sell off inventory at the end of the season.) My cruiser is a cheerful yellow with orange on the inside of the tires. I've been eagerly awaiting the first of many family bike rides.

My inaugural bike ride this season was over Memorial Day weekend. Will, Bud and I rode our bikes down the boardwalk to the Hula Grill so I could pick up some of their delicious Hawaiian barbecue sauce for dinner. The sun was shining bright, but there was a cool breeze off the ocean--perfect conditions.

We bought Charlotte a seat for the back of my bike, and a pink helmet with bunnies on it, for her first birthday. I'd been researching bike seats for months and was so excited to take her for a ride. Craig installed the seat, we buckled her in and put on her helmet. She took off her helmet. We put it on again. She took it off, this time with a screech. We put it back on, this time securing it a little tighter. She pulled at it again, now full out screaming, and was now really mad because she couldn't take it all the way off. So, the bike went in the garage for a month and Charlotte and I accompanied the rest of the family on their bike rides stroller-style.

She's a baby with some strong opinions and I knew it would take some planning on my part to get that helmet back on her. I let her play with her helmet for a while. I let her play with the boys' helmets. We made a huge fuss when she'd put it on her head. So today, after a few weeks of helmet practice, we were ready to try it again.

We had a mission today--boardwalk for mini golf and water ice. Operation helmet was successful. We rode down the back alley between Central and Wesley so we could avoid traffic on the way down to 14th street. Like a duck family, we shooed the family down town. Craig lead the way and Charlotte and I brought up the rear.

Every so often, Charlotte would remember that we'd tricked her and would make her objection to wearing her helmet loud and clear. To soothe her temper, I'd point out things we saw along the way and talk to her as we rode. Our convoy did attract some attention, so I do hope that people noticed the baby on the back of my bike. Otherwise, what I must have looked like, pedaling away, and, in my best mommy voice, saying, "Weeeeee, look at the big girl on her bike!"

We took the kids to Congo Falls mini golf for 18 holes. It was a fun time, as long as Craig and I overlooked the rampant cheating. Carter plays golf like he's playing pool and hockey at the same time. It earned him a hole-in-one, so what do I know?

From golf, we went to TLC's Polish Water Ice on the boardwalk, between 10th and 11th street. I'd never had water ice until I met Craig and until now had thought there was none better than the lovely Rita. The Polish must be on to something because this style of water ice is really creamy, like ice cream. Yum! Charlotte and I are mango fans and the boys usually opt for something florescent blue, like cotton candy or blue raspberry mixed with soft serve vanilla. They give good-sized free samples, so we never leave without the boys sampling the flavor they will have the next time.

Now refreshed, we went back to our bikes for the ride home, a happy parade down Central Avenue. Mission complete.

Seaside Jaunt

When I'm in the mood for a change of scenery from our 24th Street beach, I head south towards Corson's Inlet State Park at 59th and Central Avenue. You can visit it virtually at:

http://www.state.nj.us/dep/parksandforests/parks/corsons.html

If you haven't been, it is worth the trip. The white sands are bordered by grassy dunes, complete with a nature trail. We often sight dolphins jumping through the waves. During July and August, Ocean City leads beach walks in the morning and afternoon here. For $1 per person (and 50-cents for children), you are guided down the beach by a knowledgeable volunteer and he or she points out interesting finds, teaching about the local flora and fauna. Each child gets a beach bucket to help collect seaside treasures. Will especially loved our beach walk last year and we intend on going back again.

Since Corson's Inlet is a state park, it isn't part of the Ocean City beach system and does not have a life guard. It seems to be a popular destination for boating, surfing and fishing. However, our favorite activity at the Inlet is collecting seashells. It is the best beach for finding shells--sparkly jingle shells, curly whelks and, best of all, chunky clam shells, perfect for our made-up "seashell game" and for painting on rainy days.

My friend Suzette and her son were visiting Ocean City. Looking for a reason to get together with the kids, I suggested a trip to the Inlet to find seashells.

We equipped each child with his own plastic bag. But from there, the trip didn't go quite as imagined. I had pictured a happy walk down the shoreline. I'd expected to describe it later with words like "jaunt"" and "frolic." Suzette and I would share knowing smiles as the children amused us with their enthusiasm over their discoveries. The sounds of screeching gulls would be muffled by the giggles of happy children.

As we entered the beach, the children scampered down to the ocean, straight into the waters. The sea is rough here, and the ocean is unguarded, so we kept having to call them in. Now completely wet, they started digging. We weren't prepared for a full out beach day, so digging was done using hands instead of shovels.

Charlotte was not content to be an observer from her seat in the sling. She struggled to get down and I let her. Dressed in a beachy sundress, she soon was soaked from head to toe. After crawling in the sand, she was coated like a piece of Shake-and-Bake chicken. And, after trying to hold her, distract her, clean her, so was I.

"There usually are shells here," I explained to Suzette, "lots of them." She giggled and suggested that maybe we had visited the park right after a clam bake last time.

Soon, we were able to convince the boys to continue our walk down the beach. And eventually, we hit the shell mother load: hundreds of shells in all shapes and sizes. We must have just missed a seagull buffet, as we discovered clam shells probably only recently pried open, both top and bottom shells intact. Our bags were soon full of these treasures. (You'll read later of our many uses of these shells!)

We had driven down to the Inlet and tried to brush off as much sand as we could before driving off. Even my keys were coated. The car will never be the same. But I can't wait to do it again.

Bikini Baby

Now that I'm the mother of a girl, I know why they make bikinis for babies. It's relatively easy to get a squirmy little boy into a swimmy diaper and then a pair of swim trunks. Now, try to get a chubby, wiggly little girl, slippery with sun screen, into a one-piece bathing suit. I imagine the experience is similar to making sausage. The two-piece make the process much easier, both on mom and baby. And who doesn't love seeing that fat, little belly.

Last year, Charlotte was a relatively easy companion on the beach. As an infant, I'd tuck her away in a sling and there she would sleep most of the time. At times, I'd dig a little seat in the sand, cover it with a towel and she would sit there, under the shade of the umbrella, quite content.

This year, a trip to the ocean is an adventure for both of us. As a new walker, she loves toddling around. Every so often, she'll plop onto her bottom and excitedly dig both hands into the sand, then throwing it up into the air like confetti. When walking gets too tiring, she crawls. The sand must scrape her little legs, so she prefers to crawl up on her hands and toes, little bottom sticking up towards the sun. In yoga-speak, I think they call this "downward facing dog."

We're often annoyed by uninvited seagull visitors. They strategically fly overhead like vultures, waiting for children to drop morsels of pretzels and goldfish crackers. Charlotte enjoys their show, calling out "dog, dog," her generic word for any type of animal. She takes steps towards them, as if she might like to catch one. As she learns to run this summer, she'll be a great way to shoo away these beach pests.

And what baby can resist a tasty sampling of sand for a snack. Not Charlotte, that's for sure. She enjoys eating it by the handful, leaving her with a sandy, five o'clock shadow on her chubby cheeks.

The sand is fun, but the ocean is better. She loves to wade into the surf, holding up her dimpled little hands to mine. At first, she would strategically lift up her feet as the waves would slide in. But now, as the cool water washes up over her toes, she giggles and stamps her feet.

Pure joy.

Morning Constitutional

There's something about a morning walk down Central Avenue that kind of makes me want to whistle. Probably something like "Zip-a-dee-doo-dah." The breeze still blows cool, and the salt air mixes with the scent of slowly blooming flowers and freshly turned soil. Houses are slowly starting to awaken, and we are sometimes greeted with the sound and smell of sizzling bacon. When you pass someone, you greet them with a quiet "good morning" and a smile, which is always returned.

Following a cup of coffee and a requisite 30 minutes of the news, we're ready for an activity. I can't think of anything better than a quick dousing of sun screen and a hike down Central. I plop the baby in her stroller and the kids don helmets and hop on their bikes. We have our car here in Ocean City, but there's a certain freedom that comes with living in a town where you can walk or bike almost anywhere. It would have thrilled me as a kid to live here and to be able to bike to the park or corner store. As an adult, who can drive anywhere she wants to, I still find it exciting.

Like many mornings, our destination today is the playground on 29th and West. It's a small tot lot, with a climbing structure and slides, a see-saw, and some baby swings. There's a little seat under the slide and the boys like to pretend they are serving mulch ice cream to imaginary customers. (I see a boardwalk job at Kohr Brothers in their future.) The baby is tickled to observe these pretend transactions from the swing.

The best part about this playground is it is right next door to a fire station. It is a busy place. I don't hear of too many emergencies here, but they always seem to be rushing off somewhere, sirens blaring. In quiet times, they are almost always washing the fire truck. Last time we rode past, they got Carter with the hose. It was an accident, but he loved it and gleefully told his brother of the adventure. A time before, they let the kids climb into the fire truck and sit in the seats, accompanied by a standing invitation to come back for more of the same. They were awe-struck.

Our trip to the playground today was short-lived. The playground was alive with hungry mosquitoes. We headed home, just in time for Charlotte to nap. Although rain is in the forecast again, the sun is still shining and we have to enjoy the pleasant weather while we still can. I've equipped the boys with a bucket of water and a couple of sponges--they are industriously "washing" their bikes, to the amusement of passers-by.

Although they don't quite express it like I do, the boys are enjoying this morning too. Busily cleaning his bike, Will has started to whistle. . .

Kick-off of Summer

Although summer doesn't officially start for a few more weeks, for me, it started on Friday, June 5th, my seven-year-old's last day of school. We packed up my mini van and headed south, finding ourselves four episodes of "The Electric Company," three temper tantrums, two hours of traffic, and one stop at Dunkin Donuts later in Ocean City.

We bought a house (or half a house, to be exact) in Ocean City last year and this year, I'm spending the summer at the shore with the kids. I'm hoping for a fun summer--long days at the beach, mingled with some family activities, with a date night or two in Margate or Stone Harbor thrown in.

Right now, I'm planning our summer--picking out events, fun places to go, and some rainy day activities. In addition to using this blog to chronicle my summer, I'm hoping to make it a resource for other moms looking for stuff to do with the kids "down the shore."

Am I brave? Naive? A glutton for punishment? I'm not so sure. I'll let you know how it goes.