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She tilts her head a bit, furrows her brow, and parts her lips. “I just, it’s so hard. You know? I thought when I got past the newborn stage maybe I’d be able to breathe again. But then there was teething, and sleep regression, and then starting food with all the digestive changes, then more sleep regression. When does it stop? When do I get back to feeling like myself?” She wipes a tear away before it can drip down her cheek. “I feel like such a horrible mom saying all this!”
I put my hands on her shoulders so we are square with each other. “Listen to me, Eliza. First of all, you arenot a horrible mom. Every mom feels this way. Any mom who says otherwise is either in denial or high on something.”
Her chest bounces once with a single laugh. I don’t know if she doesn’t want to let more out, or if she can’t.
I smile and continue, “Second, to be perfectly honest, I don’t know that I ever got back to feeling like myself. Not the me I was before I had Jessie anyway. I think by the time Sam was four, I had started to reinvent my new self though. And every day, I’m more and more her, er,me.”
Eliza nods and adds, “Now with added superpowers.”
And right then, right when I think we are finally starting to get somewhere, Sammy calls to us, “Mom! Aunt Eliza! Check me out!”
He puts his ball on the starting dot on the green before licking the tip of his finger and holding it up to test the wind. His determination would impressive me if I didn’t know for a fact that he has no idea what he’s doing and is bullshitting us. With both hands on the end of his club, he then wiggles his butt and lines up his shot. He swings the club far too high behind him, nearly hitting Natalie’s ear, and then wallops the ball. That red blur pings off the sides and then rolls into the cup, giving Sammy a hole-in-one.
As Eliza, the kids, and I gasp, cheer, and throw our hands into the air, Sammy follows up with the silliest victory dance any of us have ever seen. With his nose and brow scrunched, he pushes his duck-lipped mouth outward and then waggles his knees in and out and his elbows up and down, a la the chicken dance. Even Eliza finally cracks into laughter. It’s still not the all-out guffaws the rest of us can’t control—even Jessie—but at least it’s something.
In this moment, with all of us laughing, my shoulders finally relax for the first time in months. Jake was right: We did need this time away. I needed this time away. We used to simply exist in this mode of joyous laughter. Now, it’s the exception to the rule. I want us to get back to that way of living our lives: no Guardian duties, no training sessions or library research, and no monsters (except those I gave birth to). Just us. I watch Jake laughing. He shakes his dark wavy hair out of his eyes. I see him tousle Sammy’s curls and scrunch his nose up playfully. He looks at me, and though his laughter quiets a bit, his smile is still wide and brilliant. We’re going to be okay. Weareokay.
After minigolf, the kids are ready for carnival rides, so we decide to continue down the boardwalk, but I make everyone pause to apply another coating of sunblock. With our pasty skin we can’t be too careful.
Eliza pulls me to the side while the kids rub in the white goop. “I’m going to head back to the house to check on Rory and Tabby.”
A wrinkle forms between my brows. “Really? Are you sure? Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, don’t! I mean, you guys need some time as a family. I’m totally fine to get back to my own house.” The corners of her mouth momentarily flick up in a wanning smile.
I watch my normally confident-to-a-fault friend glance around nervously before I respond. “Are you sure? Eliza, what is going on? You know you can tell me anything.”
Her smile looks painful, too still, like she’s forcing herself to wear it. “I’m sure. I’m good. I just want to get back. You know how I worry. I just want to make sure she’s napping.” My kids’ laughter draws our attention for a moment, but she still wants to make her exit, and her voice brings me back to us. “I’m good. You go. Have fun. Reconnect with your husband.”
I look from her to my kids and back again. “If you’re sure…”
She nods encouragingly. “I am. Go!”
I give her a strong hug, not for my sake but for hers, and she hugs me back in spite of not being big into touching people.
“Call me if you need me, okay?” I whisper in her ear. I feel her chin bobbing up and down on my shoulder when she nods. I take one more look at her before she leaves. Then I jog to catch up with my family, and after a few steps, I look over my shoulder and see Eliza walking toward the house.
Even though the kids have been acting incredibly patient, it just that: an act. Though quiet, they have finished applying their sunblock and are now pacing where I left them, while hopping and buzzing with the excitement that only a walk down the boardwalk can bring. Jake’s eyes light up when we pass the arcade. I would love to lose myself in some Skee-Ball at some point this weekend, but we promised the kids they could go on the rides after minigolf, and we have two more full days. I’ll have my chance, so I don’t interrupt our small herd of children as they hightail it to the amusement park on the southern end of the boardwalk. I’m the grown-up after all. I am supposed to be more patient than my kids.
Finally, we arrive at the Guest Services booth. Knowing these cards are going to need to be reloaded a million times anyway, we start the kids off with enough credits to go on a handful of rides each.
“Phoebe! Come with me to the Pendolo!” Jessie loves thrill rides like this giant pendulum merry-go-round hybrid.
Because Phoebe still has some residual fear of heights from childhood, I’m not surprised to hear an emphatic, “Oh HELL no!”
Jake, who was not yet aware of just how colorful our eleven-year-old’s extensive vocabulary has become, shakes his head disapprovingly before joining Jessie on her quest for all the fastest, highest, and spinniest things.
“Mom, can Phoebe, Sammy, and I go around just us?” Natalie’s puppy-dog eyes look even brighter blue than normal in the fresh beach air.
I smile and turn to Phoebe. “I’ll be tailing you. Donottry to lose me. You’re in charge of your sister and brother.”
“Of course! Thanks, Mom!” Phoebe wraps her arms around my waist briefly before leading her siblings toward the Wave Swinger just as the swings rise into the air and the tower they hang from swings them further and further outward. I’m okay with them running off together because I know how responsible Phoebe is when it comes to her little siblings.
I camp out on a bench. Tilting my head toward the crystal-clear blue sky, I pull in a deep breath of the salty air. I wish those scented candles that are supposed to evoke the essence of the beach could capture all the nuances of the air here. From where I sit between the beach and the rides, the salt from the sea mixes with musk from hot and sweaty bodies, and it is all infused with hints of the vanilla and sugar from the candy makers. I take a moment to breath it all in, trying to hang on to the memory. Then I take my phone out so I can capture some photos.
I am sure I hear Phoebe’s, Natalie’s, and Sammy’s laughter from the swings high above me, so I stand at the metal fence surrounding the ride and video them. Just like I did when they were tiny. And just like when they were tiny, they are still laughing with their mouths split into grins so wide that I begin to wonder if one of them will swallow a bug. But I laugh along with them. Seeing my children so damn happy is renewing something inside me. When the ride starts to slow and the middle column shrinks, bringing the riders closer to the ground below, I pocket my phone so I can find out what they plan next.
The three of them run to me. Natalie brushes her disheveled hair away from her face, and all three kids have cheeks rosy with excitement, and probably some sun burn too.
