Found: One bag of mini marshmallows in my living room

Found in my living room: one Lego truck, a set of cards, a computer game, three trucks, a matchbox car and a bunch of old birthday cards. Behind the couch there is a mass of toys that includes a wooden sword and cymbals. There are blocks rejected by my toddler nephew and there perched on the table is an open bag of mini marshmallows.

I catalogue these items because this is what my living room looks like on a good day and because I want to record the fact that these marshmallows are the final blow, the coup de grace, the sign that I have lost not just the battle but the war.

The marshmallows are a sign that my children are out of control and have taken matters into their own hands, climbing up to formerly unreachable shelves and pulling down sticky, coagulated, white candy that only a desperate, sweet-loving child who is starved by his parent could crave.

The marshmallows mean that the chaos in my house has reached such a level that even as I go about the motions of doing battle each day: straightening out pillows and removing dirty socks, I am still so beaten down, so defeated that I no doubt saw that bag of marshmallows and let it go. "So what?" I thought to myself. "So there's a bag of marshmallows sitting in the living room? It could be worse! It cold be Cheese Doodles.

But I will live to fight another day. Indeed, I will take a nap and return to battle this very day. And some day, I vow, as God is my witness, the Legos will be vanquished from my living room. The toys shall be banished from the land of the adults and no bag of marshmallows will be allowed to stand.

Mom Has a Boogie Board

Watch out boys and girls, Mom has a boogie board. You can see her on trips to the shore trying to catch a wave and swerve around toddlers. Then observe as she tries to get up gracefully despite a mouthful of ocean water and a bathing suit full of sand.

Having spent 10 years on the Jersey Shore when I was young and single, I count boogie boarding as one of the few adventures I can have as a mom. I can’t take off at midnight to watch Bruce Springsteen play at the Stone Pony anymore. And frankly, I can’t imagine going anywhere but my bed at midnight.

But if having a family means less freedom in some ways, it gives me more freedom to be a kid myself. I get to ride the roller coaster at the amusement park and go out for ice-cream sundaes and splash in the pool. So what if my thrills consist of coasting down a hill on a sled in the winter or hopping on a boogie board in the summer? It’s nice to know I can still get my kicks somehow.

This is a transition for me. I’ve always liked the water but when my boys were small, I spent most beach trips sitting at the water’s edge as vigilant as a Secret Service agent guarding the president. Often I watched friends’ kids as well and I counted heads over and over again – shouting at them not to go too far and to move closer to the lifeguards.

Then my children got a little bit more adventurous and the boogie boards appeared – first a 50-cent boogie board from a yard sale then more serious investments from the five and dime. Off my boys would go with their boards under their arms and they’d catch the waves close to the shore for long stretches of time. They’d stop only when their lips got blue or they got dunked. I’d stand in the water like an ocean goalie, fishing them out and helping them get back in. And I’d watch the look of sheer joy they’d have when they coasted into shore.

Often I’m fine being the spectator while my kids do things. I don’t want to join them on the field while they play Little League or help them play Hide and Seek. But seeing them whiz by on their boogie boards made me want to try it too. And I discovered that boogie boarding is not a spectator sport. I could watch them better when I was catching the waves beside them than I could in my goalie position. And when they came in for some sand castle building, I could watch them just as easily from the ocean as I could from my beach chair.

The only drawback was that I had to beg and borrow boogie boards from my kids and this seemed undignified. I’m not above cajoling some cotton candy from my kids but wheedling boogie boards out of an 8-year-old made me feel more like a pesky kid sister than a mom.. So I screwed up my courage and consulted the surfer dude at the local surf shop on the shore. I was relieved when he didn’t giggle or even crack a smile. He found me a good, adult-sized boogie board for both me (in purple) and my husband (in green). My begging days were over.

So until the day when arthritis sets in and Mom’s in danger of losing her dentures in the water, when Mom takes the family to the beach she’s bringing along her boogie board.

* Photo from dreamstime

Napping on the beach

I just got back from vacation where I learned or relearned an important lesson: It's important to nap.

I gave up the beach to nap and even an ice-cream cone to nap on this vacation. Of course, my deep growl of a cough that kept me and everyone else up all night had something to do with it. But it was a good lesson to learn.

When we all discusssed what we learned on this vacation, Will said he learned to skimboard better and Raymond said he learned how to have fun. (I think he knew already but never mind). As for me, they both chimed in together that I learned to nap and I'm still learning. It takes a lot of practice but I think I'm getting pretty good at it.