Beach Access

Apparently all it takes for a good time is 4 wheels and 4 Sewards speeding down South 1-5 to 30 to 101...pulling to a screeching halt in front of the Sand and Surf Inn at Cannon Beach.

I've been to Cannon Beach many, many times.  It's in my blood, really.  As my mom and dad spent a better part of their youth haunting this part of the coast. 

But it still makes me intensly happy every time I see this darn coastline.  Even when it's stormy.  And cold.  And windy, windy.

None of that stopped us though.  From building the "castle de Seward de sand" (that's a mix of French, German and Spanish for "sandcastle."  Look it up). 

Wait.  Are we the only people on this beach? 

The first day, yes.  Did I mention it was cold and windy?

Good news?  There was a cozy indoor swimming pool that made it feel like we were basking in the summer sun. 

And there were restaurants and restaurants and restaurants.  And 22 oz steaks.  But we'll talk about that later. After Dave has three or four more days to digest. 

Cannon Beach takes good, good care of kids in restaurants.  Lots to do.  Lots to do. 

They also take pretty good care of grown ups. Hello, pretty.  Where have you been all my life?

But you can only stay inside for so long, right.  Particulary when the weather gets and inch better on day 2 of your journey?

And there's a Goonies' lookout to enjoy.

Oh, hell.  We better go back inside.  I hear there are carousels and racecars. 

We'll keep this Cannon Beach tradition going.

Cuz everyone needs a little beach access now and again. 

The Pause Button

We're going to take a break for a minute.

And get in the car.  And head south.  To the Oregon Coast for a few days.

It's like hitting the pause button on the rat race for a minute or two.

And to begin this break, we headed to Henry's school tonight for some singing.

Or, per the official documentation...The Winter Concert.

Mr. Mark prepped the audience (and the kids) for the forthcoming kindergarten rock.

The first part went well - lots of singing and dancing.  The second part went a little like this.

Apparently there's only so much singing a five-year old can do.

Well.  Off we go.  No more pressure to perform in front of crowds. 

Just singing in the car.  On the way to da beach.

Adios.

Oh, Summer.

You are missed. 

Come back and see us.  Please.

Enlightenment

I wish I knew the name of the regular Joe/monk/guru that said something along the lines of, "To become learned, each day add something.  To become enlightened, each day take something away." One would assume this regular Joe/monk/guru has never stepped foot inside a Target (because more really is more - and fabulous - in the confines of the red circles).  But I have to say this little ditty has been my mantra this weekend. 

In other words, I've posted a lot of things on Craig's list in the last 24 hours. 

Baby things. A bassinet, an ergo carrier, a bjorn (I apparently liked to carry the babies), a high chair, a hip diaper bag that I never used, etc. etc.  Henry's old bikes. 

Be gone with you!  And show me the light.  Or the wisdom.  Or the money. I've got a new camera body to buy - so it's probably the latter (selling things to buy more things probably shoots the whole aforementioned theory straight to hell - I'm enlightened enough to see that). 

Actually, I can simply go to Henry to better understand this sometimes unjust world.  He drops judgement like a hammer.



You're bad? You get the unfair paddle.  Good and just?  You get the fair paddle.  Goodbye gray area.

And speaking of unfair, how come these kids get to spend more time in bed in their pajamas than I do?

 It could be that they need to decompress from significant events like the first day of preschool.

Exhibit A.

While she looks like the picture of preschool health here, this girl was CRANK about her new digs.  Seriously and monumentally crank.  It's been 2 weeks, and she's just now coming around to like her school about 1/4 as much as she like being with her Rosa.  Oh, Rosa.  We all miss her.  There are many reasons for Stella to move on - even Rosa said it was time.  But here's a quick side note - parenting is two bit whore sometimes. 

So, while they'll let me (and when I'm not selling off all their junk to buy my own junk), I plan to let them lounge all they want. 

And Dave will make them Star Wars pancakes (what up Theresa!).

In this learned world, it seems only fair.

January Jones-ing

Well, December was a real wench for the Sewards.

I apologize, as of late I love the word wench.  I don't mean actually calling anyone a wench (although I don't mind it when that happens on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills - which I only started watching, well, in December.  Side note - WHAT is wrong with those women?).  It's more that  I've been finding myself using it this way..."Self control is a real wench." OR "Multi-tasking is double wench." 

I don't know what's wrong with me.

In any event, December wasn't actually a wench.  I was trying to be sarcastic - but now I'm just too far down the road for that work. 

December was actually one lovely month.

There was food. 

And drink.

And presents.

 
And grandparents. 

And toys.

Oh, sweet toys. 

Wait.  Doesn't this look like the Seward Family Band?  They're all in purple and jamming.

Oh, and there was popcorn.  Lots of popcorn.  Thanks Uncle Jeff.

Mostly - it was just nice to have two weeks together to slow down as a family.  Because, as it turns out, we do best as a family in slow-motion.  We're not run-arounders.  We're sit and play-ers (sometimes in dress up clothes). 

So, January is here, and with it comes work and school and discipline.  Sigh. 

And to top things off, Dave and I are embarking on some sort of cleanse/detox thing (not in the Lindsay Lohan sorta way) this week, and all we'll see for the next three weeks are food items that look like this. 

Help us.  Please. 

Actually, don't help us - stay away from us.  Because we're probably going to be angry, mean people. But that's okay. Because we've got 11 more months before we have to answer to Santa again.

Happy January.