Like The World Needs Another Blogger: Six Under Six

We are Wednesday into the annual Saturday to Saturday family beach trip. I have been coming to the beach with The Husband's family for 14 years now, since we first started dating. If you're trying to do math, we were 10.

When I started coming, it was two parents, three boys, three girlfriends. My hair was bleached from the sun and even though I was sometimes unsure about it, my body sported a bikini. The other two girls and I laid around reading People magazines and getting our sun on. We took just a towel and book to the beach with us. We did flips in the pool and talked about how amazing and annoying the boys could be.

We went to dinner all together every night. I washed and dried my hair and put on nice clothes. Girls slept in one room, boys in another. Once people started marrying off, The Husband and I were allowed to sleep in a room with twin beds. We said things like "Is this People magazine old? I thought they broke up." "I think I forgot an extra refill of my razor. What if I get razor burn?!" and once we were old enough "we should stop for drinks after dinner." We stayed up late eating good food, playing games and hanging out. We were free. We didn't know it, but it was QUIET.

Now my roots betray my neglected salon-highlighted hair. I have no business in a bikini, and have not for some time. We are bigger and smarter, both a result from being on the other side of a college degree. But the biggest difference is now there are six (6!) kids under six.

It started off with just two. Wasn't that cute? Our adult-child ratio was far in our favor, and (bonus!) I could pose the kids any way I wanted for precious little pictures.

Then there were four. And you'll remember that was a little harder (and louder).

And last year there were five, and that was a little harder (and louder) still.

But now.....now there are six. They are starting to outnumber us. There are meltdowns, and sword fights and running away and screaming and injuries and refusals to eat and every picture I try to take looks like spring break senior year:

There are no People magazines. There was one magazine here, but it was some artsy fartsy magazine and the baby ripped it up this morning. There are no concerns about razor burn. We are instead making sure that each person has bathed once since we got here. We go out to eat in shifts, or eat at the house. We all made it out to the same restaurant at the same time once. Lord help our waitress.

Instead of getting our sun on, we lather everyone up in thick, non-toxic, non-spray SPF 50 until they are all pasty white because their skin cannot absorb anymore. We take snacks and towels and toys and drinks and umbrellas and chairs and phones and games down to the beach. We say things like "you're going to need to find a better way to communicate" and "don't jump on your cousin" and "use your words please" and "no karate in the house" and "where is your father?" and "stop screaming" and "I SAID STOP SCREAMING!" The good food has turned into juice boxes and fruit snacks and "who wants apple slices and green bean chips?"

Instead of boys rooms and girls rooms, children are splayed around everywhere. Some sleep with their parents, some sleep with grandparents, one is in a pack and play. Ours sleeps on a shelf in a closet like Harry Potter. He couldn't be happier.

And let me tell you about Wednesday of a week long beach trip with six under six. Wednesday is the day that everyone forgets that you paid perfectly good money and took off work for a week to bring them on VACATION where they get to have fun and be at the beach and swim and play and have the time of their lives. They are exhausted and delirious and Wednesday is the day they think they have been at Guantanamo Bay for 5 days and they are suddenly MISERABLE. And this trip is INTOLERABLE. And would you believe it but they are suffering atrocities like the wrong toothpaste and the wrong lunch choices and someone is wearing their shoes and "SHE BROKE MY TOY!" and "I BROKE YOUR TRUCK JUST LIKE YOU!" We have ignored a lot today.

This morning all the kids declared they did not want to go to the beach or the pool or any other fun thing. They did not want sunscreen or bathing suits or fresh breath, or all the other dreadful things us adults were trying to impose on them. The other kids eventually went. My child wanted to stay inside in his pajamas and watch the beach house's box set of PeeWee's Playhouse until noon. Who am I (100 weeks pregnant, swollen and exhausted) to impede upon a child's goals?

We are exhausted. This vacation is not relaxing. There are moments I miss the quiet we didn't know to appreciate years ago. I miss the not having to do anything for anyone relaxing on the beach or going in whenever I dang well felt like it, instead of strategizing when someone needs to nap or eat, or tag teaming who is watching who. But this vacation is exciting. It's exciting to see the kids loving being with each other. It's exciting to see them running in the sand and laughing with joy and staying up late. They are making memories, and hopefully those memories do not include how exhausted the adults are. These are the days that I'm sure I will miss one day, and I won't remember how hard it was sometimes with six under six.