A Day at the Beach

Every once in awhile I am reminded that I am the only one in my family without a penis.  When my sons were young, I never thought much about it.  Now that they are teenagers and have developed more than a passing interest in women's anatomy, it has become totally embarrassing for them to imagine that I could have those parts too.

On a visit to Miami Beach during winter break, my sons found a friendly volleyball game and then we headed down to the ocean to set up our blanket in the sand.  The boys went immediately into the water. I tried to read my book, but I couldn't do it.  I don't know how old your children have to be before you feel you don't have to watch them in the water--my boys were 20 and 16 and I couldn't help myself.  Will I still watch them when they are 24 and 20?  34 and 30? Seriously.

Soon my husband was in the ocean with them, and they were calling for me to join them.  I am a terrible swimmer.  I hate to get my hair wet. But my teenaged boys wanted to play with me. The water was cold but after a minute I didn't notice.

We had brought dry clothes to change into for dinner, but there was no place to change. We fashioned a tented changing area with a big sheet, and my husband and sons each took no more than a minute pulling their wet bathing suits off and pulling their shorts on.

I went last, and the three of them held the sheet over me while I lay on a blanket.  The wind was blowing strong and the sheet was whipping around me.  I was wearing a one-piece bathing suit, and I pulled down the shoulder straps and put on my bra and shirt without too much trouble.  The boys were already telling me to hurry, but my wet suit was sticking to me and I couldn't get in a position where leverage and gravity would help me wiggle out of it.

I was pulling and grunting and it was not coming off, and I started to laugh, a crazy uncontrollable laugh, and my boys were saying, "Mom what is wrong with you?"  But I couldn't stop laughing and I couldn't get the bathing suit off.  I told the boys I had to stand up, and we needed to change positions.

My husband was trying to be supportive and asked, "Anything I can do?" but I needed him to hold down his end of the sheet or else the entire Miami Beach would see my butt.  I wondered for a moment if that would be worse than my sons getting an eyeful.  I quickly decided that everyone in south Florida would consider it a fun day at the beach but my children would be scarred for life.

With that in mind, I got serious. The boys were yelling, "Pull, pull!" which reminded me of when they were born and everyone was yelling,"Push, push!" I knew it must have been more difficult to deliver a baby, but right then I couldn't imagine anything harder than getting that damn suit off.  They counted to three and I  pulled as hard as I could and the bathing suit made a loud sucking noise but miraculously pulled down over my hips. As quickly as I could I pulled on my underwear and shorts.  I told the boys I was ready and they were visibly relieved.

I represent of all of womankind to my sons.  Because they have no other frame of reference, they think that whatever I do is what all women do.   I know that I have created a disturbing and inaccurate representation of our ability to change out of a wet bathing suit.  I apologize.  But seriously, under the circumstances, I don't think you could have done any better.