How Can it be Over When it Just Started?

Yesterday afternoon I was going over the calendar with C’s French Horn teacher when I realized with horror that today may be my last real beach day of the summer. The kids will have more, but possibly not me.

How do I figure that when it is only August 9?

• Tomorrow is supposed to be rainy and yucky.
• Saturday a friend is coming in from out of town.
• Sunday is usually a chore day (maybe I could tweak that – though Sundays typically are exceptionally crowded days at the beach and less relaxing).
• Monday I work.
• Tuesday I work.
• Wednesday I have to be in another town with C and a friend’s son for a sailing thing.
• Thursday I work.
• Friday we leave on our trip.

We get back late on the 27th and I work that Tuesday and Thursday. I can’t depend on that Wednesday and Friday being beach days, though I hope mightily they will be.

With that in mind, I packed a lunch and took the kids to the beach.

However, it wasn’t a great beach day. Sure, the sky is pure blue, the temperature isn’t overbearing (70s), and it’s not particularly humid – inland, that is. But at the beach it was 68 and very windy. Sweatshirt and sweatpants windy. I’m serious. Also the surf was really rough. I would not let the kids into the water.

So we stayed for half an hour, then came home and picnicked in the front yard.

And so, that possibly was my last beach day of the summer.

That's me you hear sighing. I'll get over the self-pity shortly, but if you could tolerate an hour or so of self-indulgence, I'd appreciate it.