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.