Bayside Nature Center

I'm always up for a field trip, something new to see, something different to learn. The kids and I have developed a nice little routine here in Ocean City. We now have things to do, places to go and people--people who actually know us--to see. Still, the idea of doing something new is always appealing.

I'd read many times of the Bayside Nature Center, but every time I'd searched for it online, I'd come up empty handed. Save for a description on the OC Chamber of Commerce website, I couldn't find a website, a schedule or anything. A website is a great mom barometer. It helps me judge if an event or attraction is worth getting 3 kids into the car, buckling car seats, navigating through traffic, unbuckling car seats and getting 3 kids out of the car.

Today, we went to the beach with our new friends from camp, Zach and his mom Brenda. When Brenda mentioned the Bayside Center, I knew we had to give it a try. After dinner, we met there, at 5th and Bay, to hear a kid-friendly speaker. The speaker, however, was late, and after 20 minutes of letting the kids run around the parking lot, we decided to call it a night.

Sometimes it pays to be slow. It took me a while to load every one back into the car, and just as we were pulling out of the driveway, the speaker arrived. He waved us back into the parking lot and convinced us to stay. Will and Carter made up the small, but captive audience.

The speaker, a man named Colby from the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge (www.fsw.gov.northeast/forsythe), talked to the kids about the wilderness. He gave then note cards and asked them to write or draw what they thought of when he said the word "wild." Will drew a dinosaur and a swordfish. (Carter wrote the letters x, o and t, never missing an opportunity to show off. He later demonstrated his ability to add and spell the words "top" and "tot." Thank you, Electric Company.) He then talked to the kids about what wilderness is and showed them pictures of his trips through the wilderness in the desert in Joshua Tree, in Alaska and in Idaho.

He did a great job and really kept the kids engaged. Real kudos to him, since I'm sure we weren't quite the audience he was expecting. He gave the kids lots of opportunities to ask questions and they learned a lot about native plants, caribou, bears and moose, plus a lot about the concept of preserving our nation's wilderness.

The Bayside Nature Center is also a museum, right on the Ocean City bay. Another bonus of our private class was the wonderful view of the sunset from the top floor of the center. We'll definitely go back to explore the museum itself, which includes a whole room on life saving, right up Will's alley. Every Tuesday and Thursday night, they offer free, hands-on presentations done by different speakers from the community, all geared towards kids and nature.

We'll definitely go back again. Website or not, it passes this mom's 3-kids-in-car seats test.

Surrey with the Fringe On Top

It's no secret that I love the Ocean City boardwalk. Yes, it can be fun to stroll down the boardwalk to snack, shop and people watch. But for me, a trip to the boardwalk is more about the journey than the destination.

My goal for the summer is to ride the boardwalk from end to end, a six mile round trip, from where it starts at 23rd Street all the way to the North end of the island. Will has made the trip a few times with his buddies next door. Carter, Charlotte and I usually make it to about 12th Street, where Carter declares that he is simultaneously tired and thirsty. Tired legs are an insurmountable obstacle to a stubborn 4-year-old. Will usually catches us on his loop back to 23rd Street, finding me walking alongside my cruiser, with Carter sitting on my bicycle seat, Charlotte in the back, and Carter's two-wheeler precariously balanced on my front basket. Old ladies cluck their tongues, and knowing mothers who have been there and done that give me crooked smiles. Will likes to pass us with a smirk and impatiently wait for us at the end of the trail.

With the two boys in camp last week, I thought Charlotte and I would finally make it to the end of the boardwalk. We made it to Oves Restaurant, close, but not quite, to the end. When she started to fuss, I reluctantly turned around, knowing there was still unexplored territory ahead.

Make no mistake, the boardwalk is just as fun to explore by foot. When Mom was visiting last week, she tested out a new pedometer. Our strolls on the boardwalk alone helped us log way over 10,000 steps a day. Of course, the adrenaline rush from jumping out of the way of racing bikers, sweaty runners, wayward surreys and swooping seagulls turned our leisurely steps into more of an aerobic workout.

But is there any better way to tour the Ocean City boardwalk then by surrey? Nope, no fringe on these surreys, but who wouldn't feel like singing while pedaling this part bicycle-built-for-4, part Flintstones car? I dream of one day having my own surrey that I'll park in the garage and use to pedal us all to the steps to the beach or to haul our kayaks to the bay. I have my someday-surrey already decorated in my dreams in red, white and blue for the annual 4th of July parade, in which, one day, I will win first prize.



For now, I'll settle to rent one. My friend Jen and I (of Uncle Bill's fame) decided, after our ill-fated restaurant trip, that we'd take all seven of our children on a surrey ride. The babies rode up front in the baskets. Will sat in front, next to Jen and me, the brave captains of the surrey, where he was always willing to lend a hand by unexpectedly pulling on the brake or "helping" steer. The remaining four crammed into the back, squished together as we pushed the surrey occupancy limits and tested the strength of our flip-flopped feet.


The hardest part of riding a surrey is the trip up and, as you might imagine, the trip back down, the ramp up to the boardwalk. We realized halfway up the ramp that with only two adults pedaling, we couldn't make it up the ramp. I'm not sure how we did it, but Jen and I managed to hop out of the surrey and muster up all of our inner mom strength to push that vehicle--and its wiggling, screaming occupants--up that ramp.

Surreys aren't permitted to explore the boardwalk in its entirety--only from about 14th to maybe 4th Street where the walkway is at its widest. We used part of our hour rental pedaling down the ocean side, enjoying the breeze and laughing at the attention we attracting. (Do onlookers smile because the kids are cute or because they pity for us? We're still not sure.) Yet, those demons Hungry and his evil brother Thirsty struck--all 7 kids. We tried to satiate these persistent brothers with hot, fried donuts and icy lemonade from the food court, while the surrey rested in front of a not-yet-open Mack & Manco's Pizza.

Hungry and Thirsty were soon chased away by other well-known twins, Hot and Tired. (Perhaps you know them, as well?) We loaded back onto the surrey and pedaled back down to our starting point. The trip back down the ramp was as frightening as the trip up. I held onto the handbrake, several of the kids squeezed their eyes shut, and we shouted warnings of our uncontrolled descent to the unsuspecting bikers in our path.

Whether by bicycle, surrey or by foot, I've explored almost every inch of the OC Boardwalk--with the exception of those elusive last few blocks. Yet, each time is its own adventure. When we arrive back home, our hair is windblown, our skin is salty, and often, our tummies are full--and we're already planning our next journey down the Boardwalk.

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.

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.

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. . .