Sand Has New Meaning

It wasn't an easy decision for me to convert the kids' extra large sand box into, well, a sandbox.

When we had the yard landscaped, we had a pretty large corner of the yard made into a play area for the kids. At the time, I was not able to approve sand in the sandbox, rather I chose to fill the area with hard pieces of bark, because by golly, bark would be less likely to find it's way into pockets, cuffs of pants, or in between the millions of strands of hair on each of my children's head.

When the bark began to age and splinter and find it's way under finger nails and skin, I mustered up the courage to put sand where it had always belonged. As expected, since that fateful day when we emptied fifty plus bags of playground sand into the area, I have been sweeping it off the porch, sweeping it out of the house, and washing it out of crevices in the body that I will not describe in detail.

So when a family from the kids' school suggested a family trip to the desert, I was less than thrilled to entertain the idea. If sixty cubic feet of sand in my backyard makes me as anxious as a caterpillar feels in a schoolyard full of children, what would miles and miles of sand make me feel like? Probably more like that same caterpillar under the lens of a microscope on a hot, scorching, sunny day!

None-the-less, I committed my family to the President's-Weekend-Family-Desert-Trip. We had a trailer delivered to the spot we called home for three nights, and roughly four days. Although the trailer was delivered more than 8 hours late, and the cleanliness of it resembled that of a bachelor pad that housed 4 grown men, it was a warm place to rest our heads after a long day in the sand and sun. It was no job my two canisters of Lysol Anti-Bacterial Wipes couldn't handle!

I went into the weekend with absolutely no unreasonable expectations, which is why being out of my "comfort zone," was more than manageable, as proven in the following ways:

My heart rate didn't increase one bit when one hour before arrival time, on the side of the highway just east of El Centro, the light on the dashboard reported a flat tire on the front, passenger side. I was just happy that Mark was the one standing outside changing it while being pelted with wind that was probably nearly 40 degrees.

For four weeks prior to the trip I was told that we would only have 35 gallons of water at our disposal. Thirty five gallons of water for four days to wash up dishes for a family of six, wash 12 hands an indefinite number of times, wash six faces at least once in the morning and once before bed, etc, etc. I was relieved when I was informed that 35 gallons was in fact 50 gallons.

I was completely at ease with the fact that my kids spent more time this past weekend laying in the dirt than they did standing in it.

I did not blink an eye when my kids chose to eat red licorice and Blow-Pops for breakfast instead of cereal and bananas. Nor did I blink when their dinner consisted of good 'ol camfire smores!

I didn't cringe at the fact that my girls never once wore a hair bow while we were there!

I was fine with the fact that they didn't once hit the sack at their usual time of 7:30 pm. The fun was still going until at least 9:30 or 10:00 pm!

It was my impression, by the number of times that I was asked, "Are you having a good time?" that no one expected me to enjoy myself. With the company that I was in, my water tank could have held zero gallons, and I would have been A-okay!

My family got to make lasting memories with great friends, that would have never been made had we not agreed to this trip. Sand will forever have new meaning for me! Bring it on!