Sandy Claus

While trying to coordinate schedules to arrange our next visit to California, it became clear that either we went in December, or we wouldn't be able to go ever again. Or at least that's how it felt at the time. We took advantage of the time the kids had off of school the week before Christmas for a little holiday getaway. 

We met my parents at Texas Roadhouse as we arrived into town. The boys eagerly watched out the windows for them once we got there. 

Lincoln immediately plopped on his long-lost grandparents to show them he missed them.

The next day was church. You best believe we went all matchy-matchy so grandma and grandpa could see the infamous coordinated ties in person.

The rest of the day was spent playing outside. In December. Because WE COULD.

Mere hours after my dad had just fixed the boys french toast, Lincoln arranged himself on the counter just so and said conversationally, "You makin' me french toast, Grandpa?" Never enough french toast!

My parents had a baptism to attend that evening, so we went down to San Diego for a boat parade called The Parade of Lights.

When one of the really tall boats passed by, Lincoln shouted, "Look at that bumpy Christmas!"

The boys had a great time admiring the decorated boats. My oldest boy...yes I'm talking about Jeff here...may have gotten even more into it than any of the younger boys.  It was a hit with this bunch of boat-loving boys.

On Monday we went on a trail with my parents.

Which led us to some billed friends.

Then we went to sea some lions.

Eli found some "hum rocks" and got straight to humming on them. Still unsure where this came from. Still one of my favorite things he does.

That afternoon we booked it to the beach.

I highly underestimated the incompatibility of babies and sand. Jonah only wanted to be grabbing the sand. But then he would touch any part of him, which always quickly turned into sand spraying his eyeballs, which turned into him rubbing his eyeballs. Which turned into me shrieking, "Don't rub your eyeballs!" Which made him cry. Which made me hold him out by the armpits to gently shake/swat at him to try to get all the sand off of him. Which resulted in me saying, "Have we been here long enough yet?"

 The answer was no. We had not been there long enough. Because anytime you're at the beach and the question gets asked, "Have we been here long enough?" The answer is always "No." Eli was just getting warmed up on the old boogie board.

To clarify: His skills were warm. The water was freezing.  

 "Oh. Jeff. I have to go take pictures of the boys. Here hold this baby that has no understanding of the hazards of sand mixed with eyeballs. K thanks Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

Strategies to separate baby from sand involved a lot of above sea level holding.

Forgive me for taking a stereotypical picture of me on vacation by the ocean subtly including my crossed, carefree feet. I promise that was unintentional and I was really just trying to capture all 3 boys in one shot. And now that you know those crossed legs had a baby sand monster sitting on them, you know better than to be too terribly jealous. But you can be a little jealous.

The highlight of the afternoon by far was The Blessed Man With The Metal Detector. The Blessed Man With The Metal Detector who traipsed about the entire beach, but also somehow had the authorization to park in a handicap stall. The Blessed Man With The Metal Detector who wandered the vast, completely empty beach, yet somehow only ever ended up detecting metal when he was personal-bubble-intrudingly close to us. *Cue immediate stashing of cell phones* So obviously we would sit and stare at him because he had gadgets and shovels and potential treasure which, when written out, is basically a highlight reel of my boys' 3 favorite things.

We were willing to forgive him for intruding our what-had-previously-felt-like-a-deserted-island space in the name of being able to spy on what goodies he uncovered, but the other highly amusing thing about The Blessed Man With The Metal Detector is that even after spending nearly an hour per dig site sifting through sand, neither time did he end up finding anything other than...more sand.

Though the guy did drive a Denali, so maybe he knows something I don't.

After watching Mr. Metal Detector, my sights were turned to Eli who was equally as entertaining. Most folk build sandcastles to relax, play, revel in their creativity. Eli builds sandcastles so that he can immediately, and with increasing force, destruct them. He spent 30 minutes making lines of sandcastles just to see how many he could knock down with one exaggerated kick. Boys. Am I right?

Lincoln takes a long while to warm up to new things/places/people. Just as we were packing up, he decided it was time for him to dip in the water.

We were glad he hadn't discovered the water any sooner because he got pretty adventurous pretty quickly and would have been a sad boy had he fallen in.

We went back to the house for gingerbread house making in an effort to remember Christmas was fast approaching.

Then we made one last attempt to distract Grandpa from his Monday emails before heading off to bed.