I freaking love house guests. I know that some people find this bewildering, including some of the people who have stayed with us (I know I don’t exude Martha Stewart-esque hospitality), but I really do love it. Especially family.
Really. I’m not lying.
Reasons I love house guests:
1. For about 24 hours my house and life appear to be out of the pages of Sunset or Parenting magazines. My house gets super clean and organized. Even if it’s only for 24 hours.
2. We eat and drink waaaaay more…and better.
3. It gives us an excuse to get out those funny things that we never use in day-to-day life but seem so much more necessary (and cool!) when we have others around to see and use it. (We always get the margarita glasses down from the top cupboards in the kitchen that require a real ladder to reach.)
4. When there’s an audience, I do my best impersonation of a patient, loving, knowledgeable mommy and somehow my kids fall for it and become darn near perfect (hmmmm…are the two connected? Probably not.).
5. Our kids are better behaved. Or maybe someone else is paying attention to them so I don’t notice them as much.
My brother, sister-in-law and nephew spent the last week with us and it was awesome. My perfect house lasted about 10 minutes into their arrival and then it took on the personality of a fraternity house: there was spilled juice (and beer), broken toys, screams, laughs, tears, tantrums, smooshed food on the floor and lots of pushing and rough-housing in the name of fun. Three boys under age five is not for the faint of heart. And I loved it. Partly because I was no longer the sole referee but mostly because I had a better excuse to have an evening cocktail a little earlier.
But the really great thing about having house guests is we finally go do things that we’ve been wanting to do for a long time but always put off because they seem like too much work, too far away or even too special to do when it’s just the four of us. Of course we always try to play it off to our house guests like, “Oh yeah! Every weekend we are doing something equally interesting, adventurous and fun!” When in reality we are doing dishes, laundry, screaming at the kids to leave the cat alone and generally wondering how everyone else is having more fun than us.
So when I happened to hear that the tide was going to be low during the morning and midday last Thursday, I took off my Martha Stewart apron and put on my dictator mustache and announced to my brother and his family that we were going to the tide pools at the Marine Reserve in Moss Beach. I confessed that I’d never been and had no idea what to expect but I assured them it was awesome (gotta sell it!).
And it was.
In my typical half-assed way, I failed to actually plan anything but getting there. I had no idea that it was almost a half-mile hike in (great for my pregnant sister-in-law and three kids under five who can’t go more than ten steps without saying, “I CAN’T walk. Carry me!”). Never mind that while I remembered to pack swimsuits, towels, lunch and sand toys, I did not plan on how to get them all to the beach. So we (I mean my brother) did our (his) best interpretation of a Sherpa and lugged all the stuff up the bluff and down the stairs that rivaled the steepness of the north face of…ummm…any mountain (because I can’t remember the names of any mountains right now. I know. I’m an embarrassment to native Coloradans everywhere).
But when we got there, we were rewarded with an amazing, inviting little strip of sand and water. Indeed. It. Was. Awesome. (Insert me doing the “I Told You So Dance.”) The magic took over and we all became lost in our new-found world.
The kids didn’t hesitate to wade into the water and instantly found all kinds of little creatures. We all wandered along the ocean’s edge, poking at shells, picking up sea glass, chasing fish and soaking up the wonder of it all. It was a warm, sunny day and we had this part of the beach mostly to ourselves. It was one of those days that all the planning in the world could not have made it any better (well…a lunchtime cocktail would have been nice).
There is something about tide pools that turns our family into a big group of kids. We stared at crabs, let snails slide and suck on our fingers, gently prodded mysterious squishy things attached to rocks and jumped back slightly when they moved. The only discernible difference in the behavior of the adults versus the children was we adults sometimes hesitated to touch something or warned a child to not step on something that might be dangerous. To the kids, the water was a huge bathtub to explore with nothing to fear. And to the adults, this enthusiasm was muted by our knowledge and experience.
Years ago my brother was stung by a man-of-war jellyfish that washed up on a Florida beach during our spring break vacation. We all learned of the dangers that seemingly innocuous and enchanting sea creatures can hold. I think of that every time I go to the beach. That and my irrational fear of sharks. I can’t help it.
My kids eagerly, openly and, at times, exuberantly, explored. And I was filled with a mixture of delight because they were so at ease and fearless, and sadness because I couldn’t be. Almost, but not quite. As a parent, I struggle to truly relax and let them go without thinking of (and often verbalizing) the dangers of which they are wonderfully unaware. Ok. So there weren’t any jellyfish or sharks but someone has to make sure we put on sunscreen, eat lunch and clean up after ourselves.
When it was time, the adults put out the blanket, wiped off sand from hands and feet, set up lunch and sat back while the kids refueled. And when they finished, we packed up and finally convinced them to leave. We headed back up the stairs and down the trail to our car.
On the drive home, the kids snoozed in the back and the adults were quiet, tired but relaxed and fulfilled. Being a grown-up isn’t as fun as being a kid but on days like this one, it’s pretty darn close.
It was one of the best days of my life and it wouldn’t have happened without house guests.
Everyone is gone and the Rowes are starting our usual week of preschool, chores, baths, naps and snacks. And I’ll be doing some touch-up painting, a lot of laundry and scrubbing mystery substances off of floors, walls, and couches. And I’m not even a little bit annoyed by it (ok, maybe a tiny bit). The toys are back in their bins and the house is back to its pre-house-guest state. I’ve resumed yelling at my kids and they’ve resumed yelling back.
Thankfully, we have more house guests arriving next week.
Pro-tip if you go to the J.V. Fitzgerald Marine Reserve: there is parking in a neighborhood with a much shorter walk to the stairs. No need to park at the park trailhead and walk in (Cypress Ave/Beach Way intersection). The one caveat is if you go this time of year and want to see baby seals, park at the trailhead and go right after the bridge and up the hill to the overlook. It mostly makes up for the crabby, wailing kids on the walk/hike in.