The Beach Weekend

It was a tough journey to the beach. Six hours of traffic (three more than the usual trek). Complaining kids. Square bottoms. Antonio, the oldest in my new set of Spanish friends' brood, declared, upon arrival, that he was never going to our beach home again.

But he changed his mind the next day.

Because, well, everything was wonderful--in multiples.

Friendship
Wine
Jamon
Cultures (Spanish, American and Brazilian)
Kids

Kids. The weekend was really all about them. Of course, us adults ate, drank, and were (more than) merry. But what I thought might be a "grab me the birth control pills, honey" kind of weekend for us with, currently, one child and another newly-married pair was so not. There were four boys, (ages 2,4,6,8, as mentioned, the fruits of one brave Spanish couple) each of them so sweet and well behaved and, of course, Georgia (thrilled with the company). The air was seeping happiness. The deserted winter beach was alive with children's squeals, pealing laughter, goosebumps and mouthfuls of sand. In multiples and in matching outfits (minus Georgia).

Matching Outfits? It was like twins--times two. As explained by Spanish mom, the tradition in Spain is to dress your children identically--every day. At first I thought it was oddly amusing. But two change of clothes later, I couldn't deny the practicality. Think of packing for four boys. Imagine one outfit and multiply. See? Practical. Then I couldn't deny the charm. Envision four rugby and dungaree wearing little gentleman. But when they came out in swim trunks and flip flops. I died! Viva España! I am ready for multiples.

PS: My newly married friends (O and J), we are ready for your multiples, too.
PPS: My new friends (R and A), keep adding to the brood.
PPPS: Honey, and you?

Thank you all for a wonderful weekend. xo