THE BLOG
02/18/2015 04:30 pm ET Updated Dec 06, 2017

How I May Have Traumatized the Kids at the Beach!

How did I traumatize the kids at the beach

... you asked?

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photo courtesy of morguefile

I love going to the beach, unfortunately, the last time I went it didn't quite turn out like I planned.

It started out as a beautiful sunny day, who knew it would all go so horribly wrong. My husband didn't want to go in the water so he decided to stay back on the beach while my niece and I went to play in the sand and surf. It was a glorious day! The waves were high and mighty as they constantly rushed up to meet the sand. I warned her before going in that she should hold onto my hand because the beach was experiencing rip currents and going out to far was much too dangerous.

Since we were only going up to our knees I assumed we would be okay...how was I to know! The big red flag might have been a clue had I seen it in our excitement to get to the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. We weren't the only ones enjoying the sun and surf. It was hot so there were plenty of others taking advantage of the amazing day.

We ran into the water ready for an afternoon of fun in the sun. The water slapped up against us salty and warm. It was heaven we ran around and played in the waves that were repeatedly beating against the beach. We were holding hands and looking back at my husband laughing when the lights suddenly went out. The wave hit us from behind and even though we were only in a little ways it was like being hit by a bus.

My niece's hand slipped from mine, gone in just a second. While I went face down into the water. Sand and salt shooting into my mouth and nose as if someone had slammed a sand pie right into my eyes. I immediately rose up looking for my niece and breathed a huge sigh of relief that she was safely up on the sand. NOTE: Never take a huge sigh of relief while you are face down in the ocean, just sayin'.

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photo courtesy of morguefile

The constant beating of the waves pinning me down like a UFC fighter in the ring. Ding, Ding I was down and out. Somehow though, I managed to raise my head out of the water coughing and sputtering the nasty salt water that no longer seems so beautiful as it scratched the corneas of my eyes. I look to the beach because I already know my husband is panicking. He is standing up with a look of shock on his face. He ran down the beach like David Hasselhoff from Bay Watch, when I waved him off, a sure sign that I was okay...but was I? HELL NO!

The waves are pounding one right after another and I can barely get my breath. He is screaming something to me, but I can't hear over the freight train that was rolling over my body at warp speed. I had managed to at least sit up and to partially get some of the sand out of my eyes, nose and mouth. That's when it hits me, the bottom of my bathing suit is around my ankles and going fast. I managed to close my feet and grab it just in the nick of time. I can still hear my husband in the background but right now I have more important things to worry about. I am struggling, playing tug and war with the surf. I would get them up to my knees, the water would roll back out and suck them down again.

I played this back and forth game for several minutes beginning to really panic. I am not coming out of this water without my bottoms. I STILL hear my husband screaming at me and now it's just beginning to get on my nerves. Can't he see I am in the fight of my life right now, so I wave him off again, screaming back "I'm fine" even though I'm really, really not.

Finally, with a burst of strength I get a death grip on the bottom of my bathing suit and I managed to get it up over my knees. This is where suddenly for a split second it gets totally silent and my husband's words FINALLY reach my sand filled ears. YOUR BREASTS ARE HANGING OUT! Yes, not only have my bottoms forsaken me but I look down to see two bright white life preservers floating in the water. Then when I look back at him I see all the people now looking at me because his shouting has gotten everyone's attention. Like a newspaper hawker "Get your breasts here, breasts hang out on the beach here now"! I here a small child "look mommy lunch"!

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photo courtesy of morguefile

I let go of the bottoms (yes, I saved the ta-tas first) to put those 40 year old, mother of 2, stretch marked, pasty white watermelons back in this stupid suit that has failed to live up to its $75 potential. Of course, my bottoms are now back around my ankles being held on by my rheumatic toes that are shooting pains up my legs like lightening. Once I get the top back on, my bottoms are being held by a mere toenail. I take a big breath and prepare for one last burst of strength. I think for a second why not just give up and float out to sea and maybe wash up a couple of miles down the beach where I won't have to take that walk of shame.

With a loud groan I finally get a death grip on the elusive bathing suit and get them up to my knees once again, only this time I don't stop and I manage to finally get everything covered back up and stand to get this horrifying experience over with. Sand falling out of my butt crack like the claws of a bulldozer. I walk back to the beach with my head down grab my towel and keep going without a word. I head to the bathroom to get the sand out of my ass, eyes, teeth and any other place it may be hiding, which in reality is much harder than it would seem. So if you are watching AFV one day and see a woman at the beach who looks like a beached whale being choked out by an eel...please just change the channel to protect your family from damaging their own retinas! Just think of it as my own pubic service announcement.