So Long to Summer

This is not my final blog entry of the summer. No, I still have many adventures to report, including the release of turtles into the wild, swimming lessons, more surfing, a pirate adventure, and a surrey ride for nine down the boardwalk. As summer comes to an end, I have so many stories to tell. Yet, I felt that I must commemorate the end of the season with an official goodbye today, Labor Day.

Our summer ended with a frenetic burst of activity--frequent trips back home for soccer practice for the boys, a houseful of guests as Grandma and Grandpa flew up from Texas to experience the New Jersey shore firsthand and were joined by Colleen and Brian, and a series of "last times" and "last chances" before autumn's arrival.

We seemed to not be the only ones trying to soak in the last remnants of summer. Ocean City exploded with people and activity. My Dad suggested I attach a spear to the front of my stroller to motivate slow walkers on the boardwalk to get out of the way. We joined the masses for several trips to the boardwalk this last weekend, scarfing up Johnson's Popcorn and Ike's Crab Cakes, going for one last whirl at the Wonderland Pier, pedaling back and forth on a surrey, and surfing, surfing, surfing at the 7th Street Beach. Our busy last days of summer were followed by fun family dinners, slow walks for ice cream and quiet, cool evenings on our front porch.

The end of summer came with what seemed like the flip of a switch. The crowds emptied, our guests drove away, and the hum of the washer and dryer honed on. We feel just a little bit sad, as most do as they realize a much anticipated, much planned for event is now over. After all our waiting and planning, all our fun, after all that has happened, summer is over now.

Will cried today as he realized our beach time would be relegated to weekend trips that we are able to squeeze in between soccer game and birthday parties. Craig frequently reminds us that we don't have to lament over a "last time" of doing anything at the shore--since we own a home here, we can come whenever we want. But I understand how Will feels. We won't have another stretch of time here at the shore until next June. We've enjoyed the family time and I, for one, feel a renewed closeness with my husband and kids. We've spent a summer together and have learned the ropes of shore living. I'll miss our morning bike rides, afternoons on the beach, shell seeking and wave riding.

I never want to wish my life away. As one phase, one time, one event ends, there is always something else to look forward to. School and soccer games start this week. The boys will be reunited with their buddies. We'll return to our house in Pennsylvania, with our own swing set in the back yard and a little room to spread out. We'll start swimming lessons, and trips to the library, and playdates with friends we haven't seen for months.

Yes, the arrival of fall is bittersweet.

After dinner tonight, we took one last family trip to the playground. The 51st Street playground, known in our circle as the "Playground with the Fish" was the destination of Carter's choice. On our drive down West Avenue, we noticed the empty streets, the dark houses. The playground, usually spilling over with children, was empty. Even the weather seemed to welcome in the fall--we shivered in our shorts and flip flops and we noticed the dog walkers bundled in jeans in fluffy sweatshirts.

We'll head home tomorrow. But our adventure at the shore is far from over. We'll be back. Devotees of the NJ shore know that September and October are prime months here--warm water and no crowds. Stay tuned. I'll have more stories to tell.

And They Rode Off Into the Sunset

I write a lot about our main beach transportation--by bike. There's a certain freedom spending a summer in a small town with a low speed limit and lots of sidewalks. At home, the kids could never ride around the block--our neighborhood is just too close to a nasty intersection--even though we live within walking distance of a coffee and ice cream shop. When we're in Ocean City, there's something kind of exciting, liberating even, about hopping on our bikes and going somewhere.

With Will on his dirt bike and Charlotte and me on my cruiser, Carter has been dutifully following behind on a smaller version of Will's bike with training wheels. Carter is the most competitive kid I have ever met and trailing behind him just kills him. Crossing intersections is hard, too. Sometimes, those training wheels just get caught on the curb and I have to maneuver my bike, with a baby in the back, while pulling a pouting Carter on his own.

We have spent the summer with this arrangement. That is, until yesterday, when Carter announced that he wanted his training wheels off. If you have ever met Carter, you know this is a child who speaks in truths. When he says that he is or is not going to do something, he means it. He is seldom rude, but matter-of-fact. Still, when he told me to take his training wheels off, I just wasn't sure.

The wheels, first of all, were on incredibly tight. I had trouble getting them off. I assigned Will to pull Charlotte around in the wagon as I struggled and struggled to remove the wheels. My fear was that Charlotte would not cooperate as Carter needed a few days of extra attention to teach him to ride his bike. Or, that I'd get the wheels off and, after falling off the bike, he's ask me to put them back on--and I wasn't sure I'd be able to.

Once the wheels were off, Carter and I stood in the back alley, as Will and Charlotte sat in the makeshift wagon bandstand. I held onto the back of the bike seat as he began to pedal. He told me to let go. I did, half expecting him to topple right over. But he didn't. He kept going. All the way around the block.

And that was that.

Of course, the event was not without drama. Carter is a dramatic kid. He never really fell off his bike, but he has problems starting and stopping. Every so often, while trying to start or stop, his bike would fall over. Carter would then throw himself over, rolling around in the grass, much to the alarm of passers by, who would run to his aid. He always gets up with his jack-o-lantern grin, never a tear. Carter made a friend of an old lady who is renting the corner house. She pulled Charlotte in the wagon while I ran to keep up with Carter. She, too, was in awe of his new-found skill.

Carter's only request of me today was to go on a bike ride. After errands and planned activities today, after dinner was the only time for us to go. As our summer comes to an end, night comes quickly. We watched the sunset as we rode our bikes around the block. Carter rode ahead as Charlotte and I trailed behind. In true Carter style, he chatted the entire time he rode. Since I was behind him, I could hardly hear him, but peppered into his conversation of one were phrases like, "I did it! I'm doing it! I'm riding my bike."

At nightfall, we pulled our bikes back into the garage. Carter pulled off his helmet, looked up at me and smiled. "I think I'm the best 4-year-old in the whole world. I can ride my bike." We think so too, Carter bear.