Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.
Back in 2006, I was in Miami for the wedding of two of my good friends. While the wedding was actually in Miami, my crew of folks, well, we stayed in Miami Beach in one of those beachfront hotels that has all the bars and opens right up to the sand. We’d wake up in the morning and roll right out to the beach in the morning to watch the sunrise and drink Tequila Sunrises. It was so peaceful. At 27, that felt like how life was supposed to be. Of course, shenanigans were afoot as well; I don’t know how this happened, but I also woke up on the beach one night all by myself with an empty bottle of Hennessy in one hand and a cigar in another and to this day have no idea how I got there or why nobody else was with me. Also, when I came to and went back to the room, all the homies were in the room chillin’ and thought I was in an entirely different place with some other folks. Le sigh.
Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved.
The point is, my memories of the beach before marriage and kids were one of joy, peace, fun and wild times. Now? I’m married with four kids and, man, it’s a different world these days. It is in this current version of life that I have come to the realization that I hate the beach.
I suppose hating the beach is a bit dramatic and places the blame in the wrong place. The beach itself is just fine, having never bothered me or mine. Real talk, the beach has done nothing but mind its own business. On the other hand, when you have a family, going to the beach takes on a whole different experience. Long gone are the days of waking up and rolling out to the beach. You’ve got to get all the kids up and ready (I have one teenager who does all this herself, thank goodness). That means swim trunks and sunscreen and aqua socks because the sand is so hot. All it takes is that first lesson about kids walking on hot sand and having to be carried all over a beach to realize aqua socks are a must-have.
Then, you have to load up all the stuff you need to go to the beach. For context, I just got back from a beach trip to Rehoboth Beach, Del., so the disdain is still palpable. We had to bring a wagon and put chairs and coolers and food and blankets and towels. We had to basically bring a smaller version of our house with us JUST to make sure we had stuff to cover the basics. And you know who has to drag that wagon through the sand to the desired and chosen location on the beach? If you guessed the guy typing, you’re the real MVP.
And that’s just getting there. Once you’re actually at the beach and paid for an umbrella or five and set up your location, then it’s all about chasing children into and out of the water. Tequila sunrise? Please, I need to be alert because I have a bunch of kids who have varying levels of comfort with water. Plus, there’s a 2-year-old in the mix who must have eyes on him at all times because that one’s a runner — he has a quick first step, too. When the kids aren’t putting their toes in the water and weighing the pros and cons of going further, they’re on the beach building sand blocks that resemble … sand blocks. Point is, as a parent you have to keep your eyes on your kids at all times if you’re not in the actual water with them. Now look, I love my kids, and I understand the assignment; I’m just saying it’s a lot of work being alert on heavy sand and watching kids in the water at the beach with 1,000 other people standing around.
That’s all before the constant bathroom breaks where you have to get out of the water, dry off and run over the hot sand (unless your kid keeps his aqua socks on the whole time … not gonna happen) to get a towel then have to walk to find a bathroom.
Listen, I can do this all day. Going to the beach with children is a completely different experience than it is as a childless man. Yes, everything is — I know. But the amount of work it takes to do beach day is, well, a lot. Keep in mind, all that stuff you set up also has to be broken down to end the afternoon just to have to drag all the stuff over the sand BACK to the car (or hotel). It’s just a lot of work. And I don’t enjoy it.
I want my kids to have all the experiences and my wife is a savant at making sure they experience all the things, which means every year, and maybe multiple times, we’ll be at a beach. My kids love it, so I suppose that’s all that matters. But let me tell you, the beach is for the birds as a family man, even if I love how much fun my kids have.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, let me go apply something to this sunburn I have despite the tremendous amount of sunscreen I put on.
Panama Jackson is a columnist at theGrio. He writes very Black things and drinks very brown liquors, and is pretty fly for a light guy. His biggest accomplishment to date coincides with his Blackest accomplishment to date in that he received a phone call from Oprah Winfrey after she read one of his pieces (biggest), but he didn’t answer the phone because the caller ID said: “Unknown” (Blackest).
Make sure you check out the Dear Culture podcast every Thursday on theGrio’s Black Podcast Network, where I’ll be hosting some of the Blackest conversations known to humankind. You might not leave the convo with an afro, but you’ll definitely be looking for your Afro Sheen! Listen to Dear Culture on TheGrio’s app; download it here.