Different perspectives

I love a long weekend, and this recent one reminded me why. It was filled with friends, family, good food, and trips to the beach -- pretty much all my favorite things.

We actually went to the beach a couple times this weekend. The first day was with some of my closest friends, whom I've known since college. We packed up our essential beach gear -- sunscreen, chairs, lunch, books, trashy gossip magazines, and parked ourselves on the sand.

Mark's gear, of course, was a little different. In addition to being more unwieldy to carry through the streets, it also had a more active theme -- he carried a boogey board, sand tools, and a football.

Within moments of arriving, he'd dropped all his stuff on the sand, and was in the water. He returned quickly, proclaiming the water surprisingly cold, but he couldn't resist, and was back in shortly. He splashed, he rode the boogey board, then he returned to build sand castles, complete with moats, and a river that flowed into a massive pool he'd scooped out of the sand.

The girls and I watched. I sat in my chair, enjoying the sunshine and the company. I admired the view, and watched the boats and kayakers pass by. I marveled at the paddle boarders standing up on their surfboards, crossing the bay.

I lounged, and reveled in the fact I had no meetings, no errands to run, no playdates, no lessons or activities to drive Mark to. I basked in the sunshine, and in the absence of house work, laundry, car maintenance, and all the other neccessary evil tasks that consume my time at an alarming speed.

I laughed with the girls. I debated silently whether to eat lunch or nap, to read gossip magazines or my book, to apply more sunscreen or to live dangerously. I ended the debate, and went to toss the football around with Mark instead. And when he took up Edra's dare to swim out to the buoy and back, I stood at the edge of the water, cheering on his success.

It was, in short, the perfect day. Carefree and filled with friends and laughter. Filled with inner peace and serenity, filled with watching my son explore his world. Filled with warm sunshine, and before it got too hot, an ocean breeze to cool us down.

And so I was surprised to hear Mark's take on the day as we drove home.

"Did you have fun?" I asked, as we drove along the crowded street.

"Yeah!" he said, enthusiastically. Then his brow furrowed, and he added, "But you didn't do anything all day."

"What?" I exclaimed. "I relaxed all day -- I enjoyed my day off."

"Yeah, but you didn't do anything," he answered.

I smiled, and realized that compared to this hyperactive little boy, who spent the day chasing, digging, building, filling, swimming, catching, running and being pulled through the water on his boogey board, no, I hadn't done much.

And I realized that's exactly why I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself, and my day. And that no matter how I phrased it, my little man, who spends his day being chauffeured, helped, coached, encouraged, fed, pampered, and thoroughly cared for, would not understand why I had enjoyed myself so much by simply sitting with my friends, and being.

And he certainly wouldn't understand how I can't wait to do it again.