First: Congratulations to Cathy and Marcus – all I know is that you had a little girl on July 1!! I am so happy for you! You will be the most wonderful parents. (My cell phone is still not here, so I did not receive the text message…).

Oh, I love summer!! It was beautiful here today. We did our chores, Ava painted and rediscovered her toys and inexplicably asked for a bath, then packed up and went to do three errands before going to the beach—first we went to the repair shop to retrieve the hose from the back of Big Red, Peter’s ancient and ailing truck, then to the drug store, and then to the dump to drop off our recycling. These weekly trips to the dump have made quite an impact on Ava—it is the Lake Clear Dump (really, the Lake Clear Transfer Station) and therefore everything in Lake Clear is named “The Lake Clear Dump (insert noun).” So, we go to the Lake Clear Dump Playground, and today we went to the Lake Clear Dump Beach, and sometimes we go to the Lake Clear Dump Post Office. While I am glad that she is appreciating the effort that goes into recycling, and she is getting a lesson in waste management, I do hope that she will eventually differentiate and not ask if I am taking her to a Dump Beach in public.

We made it to the beach, and it was great. Carter finally stopped fussing as soon as he spotted the water. It was extremely busy, but we carved out a niche for ourselves, and I got Ava’s floaties on her arms and she was off. While she cavorted in the water to the constant refrain of “that’s too far, Ava,” I got Carter ready. He took off like a shot when I let him go, straight for the water. Right in, crawl crawl crawl gurgle spit cough choke…he just did not stop. I picked him up, redirected him, and eventually just took him into deeper water with Ava where I could hold him. She was busy making friends with every big kid she could find. She would just march over to them and start up a conversation, much to their amusement. To their credit, most were very patient and nice to her. When she got tired of that, she would go to the shore, get into a “ready set go” position and explode straight into the water, running as fast and as far as she could go until it was too deep to run any further. I brought Carter back to the sand, and he was ecstatic. He only ate a few handfuls, then pretty much abandoned that effort for just running his hands in it, picking up and moving it, squishing it, rolling in it, and just having a great time. His toes would get buried and I would say “where are your toes??” and he would laugh and dig for them. Then he started going back in the water. But it only took a few times of going too deep for him to realize what was going on, and he would turn back, return to the edge of the water, laugh and squeal, then do it again. He also figured out that if you move parallel to the shore, the water does not get deeper.

Ava proceeded to insert herself into a group of kids building a pile of sand and a big hole. It was a castle, and she was totally enamored with the entire production. She was recruited to help, which puffed her up with outrageous pride. When they were finished, she asked me to help her do the same, but since Carter was on the move, I had to decline. So what did she do? Went and asked an 8-year-old if she would help her build it. And this kid, bless her soul, did! They sat together building this thing, chatting away like best friends. The older child had a younger sister, who was lugging sand and water to them, and clearly unaware that she had been suckered into the grunt work. I was so proud of all of them, Ava for making friends, and these 2 sisters for being so nice.

At 4 PM, the battle of Mom vs. the Sand and Dirt began. It started with shaking out the (now empty, thanks to Carter) diaper bag, then shaking out everything that was to go in it, then rinsing the beach toys, then undressing Carter and taking him into the water and scrubbing him down then holding him naked on my hip until he dried and the sand would no longer coat him like a sugar cookie should he touch it, then getting him diapered and into the backpack, then shaking out the remaining towels, then getting Ava’s shoes on, loading up and heading to the car. At the car I got Ava naked, dusted her off since she was dry, put her clothes back on, and packed everything in the car. When I turned on the car, it was 5 PM.

When we got home, I stuffed them full of blueberries, and drew a bath. We all got in it, as I was no squeaky clean specimen myself, and when we got out, the water was brown. I mean REALLY BROWN. At least I did not blow off the bath by rationalizing that they had been in the water already. The problem is that there is actually a lot of charcoal in the sand because people have beach fires, and so there is this black dust incorporated into the sand, dust that is very tenacious.

On the other hand, I did have a realization on the beach as I was struggling with the fact that I had sand everywhere. I suddenly recognized the superb exfoliating opportunity at my feet for free! So, while Carter buried my toes, I rationalized that they might be filthy, but they would eventually be smooth.

And now, I am going to do some laundry and read Real Simple with total abandon, and try not to fret over the grammar of the title. Is it “Really Simple” or “Real. Simple.” It drives me nuts. But I love the magazine, for its ability to transform housekeeping into a chic endeavor. Never in a million years did I ever think that I would look at a photo spread on brooms with serious interest.