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I finish setting up the beach tent for my family and help Emma get our three kids, Ethan, Emily, and Elizabeth inside. We carefully applied sunscreen back at the house and I packed the picnic basket with everything we could need, including a bag with more sunscreen, life jackets, and plenty of water. It’s what I do. I love protecting and providing for my little ones, and by little ones I mean everyone in my family.
“Is that an island?” Ethan asks pointing out the front of our tent to the ocean.
“No, buddy. It’s probably just a boat off in the distance.”
“But my teacher said there’s an island close to us called Cuba and you’re the fastest person to ever get there.”
My chest swells with pride, but only because I know it must have made my boy happy to hear his dad being talked about in school. I don’t do anything for myself, only for my family. But that, coincidentally, means I do everything for myself. Because family truly is everything, and where I draw all my happiness from.
“She did, did she?”
“Uh huh. Are you a fast swimmer?”
“I used a boat, amigo.”
“How did you learn to drive a boat?”
I swallow hard. “I used to haul cargo.”
Emma shoots me a look, but can’t suppress a laugh.
“What’s cargo?” Ethan continues.
“It just means stuff. I just brought stuff from one place to another.”
“Like how mom said the stork brought me one morning.”
“Just like that except I can’t fly.”
There’s a long pause and finally, he says, “Cool.”
Ahhh. To be six-years-old all over again.
“Are they asleep?” I ask, pointing at our twins, Emily and Elizabeth who are side-by-side in some sort of double baby carrying device. I can never remember the names of all these things. All I know is people go crazy when they see me carrying the two of them on the street, together in one carrying device. The first question is always the same. “Aren’t they heavy, especially with you carrying them with just one arm?”
I never notice how much the weight is. All I think about is that it’s my own flesh and blood, and I wouldn’t tire of carrying them even if it meant I had to walk across the Mojave for days on end, as long as I kept them safe.
“Completely passed out,” Emma says, checking on them.
I look over at Ethan who’s wobbling from side to side. I carefully guide our little guy down on a blanket, realizing he must be dead tired already. He always has a hard time sleeping when he knows we’re going to the beach the next day. Not only that he never sleeps when he hears his little sisters crying at night, saying as their big brother it’s his job to stay up and watch over them until they’re sound asleep. Only then can
he consider getting some shut-eye.
I’m so proud of our little man, and I’m not at all surprised he’s thoughtful. With a mother like he’s got, the same one who does everything for our children, how can he not put others first?
“So…” I begin. “All the kids are asleep and we’re the only ones on this stretch of beach.”
“And we’re underneath a palm tree that provides quite a bit of shade,” she adds.
“And privacy from prying eyes.”
We laugh as we quickly move to the front of the tent, crawling out and then zipping it shut without waking the kids, closing just the screen so air can come in the front…and importantly they’re not tall enough to stand up and see out the back, where we’ll be.
I squat down and Emma jumps up on my back and I race the few steps to the tree, sitting her on the branch at eye level and jerking down her swimsuit bottoms.
“Am I getting too big?” she asks.
I freeze mid-lick, pulling my head back. “Girl, have you lost your mind.”
