It won't always be this way

We pack the bags, the beach toys, the towels, the snacks, the drinks, the shade tent, and the kids and we head to the beach where we unpack the bags, the beach toys, the towels, the snacks, the drinks, the shade tent, and let the kids have their way with rocks and bits of dead crab parts found while the baby tries to shove great handfuls of sand in her mouth and Chicky complains there's sand in her Goldfish crackers. Soon we're covered in sweat and sand and the rocks have taken their toll on our tender toes and we're tired and wiped out and the kids are cranky and we're cranky and we still have to repack the bags, the beach toys, the towels, the leftover sandy snacks, the bottles with the dregs of warm drinks, the shade tent and the kids and we tell ourselves -

It won't always be this way.

At the ice cream shop, one girl is jumping out of her skin in anticipation, bumping into unsuspecting customers in her excitement, while the other toddles toward the busy parking lot. Ordering takes much longer than it should because we're scolding and admonishing and chasing, we look apologetically toward the college-aged girl behind the counter. Soon both girls are sticky from head to toe with a combination of pink and green ice cream and as a result we're both covered with ice cream too. Over their heads I say to him -

It won't always be this way.

At dinner, CC is not content to sit at the table, she needs to get down and make her own discoveries on the well trodden floor. Chicky whines for her supper. Why is it taking so long? she asks mournfully. The food finally comes and they pick at it like they weren't just starving a moment ago while we devour our food in shifts, first him then me. We leave a pile of discarded napkins and french fries on the floor behind us. As we're buckling both overtired girls in the car he says to me -

It won't always be this way.

It's been a long day and we get the girls undressed and ready for bed. We inhale the scent of their suntanned bodies, the salt in their hair. As we put her in bed, we ask Chicky what her favorite part of the day was. Everything, she answers emphatically, a contented smile on her face. Bedtime stories read, she holds tightly to our necks - I love you Mommy, I love you Daddy. So much.

In the quiet of her room I rock with CC in my arms. I pepper her silky hair and her rosy cheeks with kisses. She sighs contentedly and tucks her arms and legs underneath her while snoozing on my chest. I rub her back before finally, begrudgingly, placing her into her crib. She grabs her lovie and closes her eyes and for a moment I linger, watching the rise and fall of her chest before leaving the stillness of her room. I fall, exhausted, onto the couch next to him and lay my head on his shoulder. I'm quiet while I think about our day, the highs and lows, the difficulties and the triumphs. But most of all, I think about the last few minutes. I think about the love and the need, both theirs and mine. And I say to him with a heavy heart -

It won't always be this way.