Beachin'

Our city holds a yearly Curbside Giveaway, where you can drag all your unwanted crap treasures out to the curb for anyone to find and claim. We participated last year, cleaned out a bunch of crap treasures and yes, brought some new crap treasures into the house - Felix's big boy bed, for example, was being given away by one of his daycare teachers.

This year, the day was bright and sunny. We piled the curb high with crap treasure - old monitors, printers, piles and piles of books, toys the boys no longer wanted played with (and that I didn't think the daycare wanted, either - they received a large bag from us last week!), Christmas decorations, old picture frames, candles, a legacy toy box that just took up too much space...

Then we hopped in the car and went down to the Farmer's Market. (Where I stocked up on soap for the boys' latest obsession with lathering themselves in the tub, and Rawthentic chocolates... o.m.g. I need willpower. Too tasty.) Each time we bring the boys we swear we'll never do it again without short pieces of rope to tie them to us. And muzzles. Maybe straitjackets. They go everywhere, touching everything, and smashing into everyone. All at once and usually in different directions. We have talks with them in advance, reminding them of rules and personal space and putting their listening ears on. But it's always a madhouse. I grew up in Farmer's Markets... I don't remember mom tearing out her hair or threatening to thrash us. But those were different times. It wasn't as crowded in our little town. And we were a bit older. Or I have a selective memory. (Note to self: call mom.)

We made it out of the Market alive but not quite sane and herded the feral cats boys to a nearby park with a play structure and some shade for a picnic. When we could finally peel them off the slides, we went for a looooong drive so they would just nap already.

We drove fairly aimlessly... 30 minutes in one direction, then back and veering off and circling around. We went down roads we hadn't been on in years. Followed one until it ended at a golf course on the ocean. When I started muttering, Elliot piped up from the back seat, "All roads have to end somewhere, mama!". Sage little creature. We meandered around until we ended up at a beach. And then the chaos fun really began! We were unprepared, so made due with rolled up pants... until those got soaked. You know you've had a wild time when you have salt lines on your thighs!

He promises me he was saving Felix, not getting ready to toss him!

Felix was challenged by the tides. He would splash out to meet them and run shrieking and laughing in with them. Then the water would rush out, sucking sand and rocks out from under our feet, knocking us off balance... I had to run interference so Felix didn't get swept away. Every time.

The tides were coming in, quickly. My boys made a wall to buy themselves some time. It was a valiant effort. But, predictably, an epic fail. There might have also been some burying of a small child in the sand, necessitating a speedy save when the area was flooded.

Had a gourmet supper of hotdogs and fries on a boardwalk and then came home, wiped. And saw that most of our crap treasures had been re-homed! Hooray for cleaning out the corners of our dangerously full basement and closets. And by that I mean barely denting the heap. Honestly, we may be about 3 piles and a candlestick away from falling under the hoarder classification.

We sure soaked up the sun, and I'll sleep good tonight. (You hear that boys - stay in your own freaking rooms, ok!) And hopefully we can do it all again real soon.