Beach Postcard.

One last summer trip. We gladly drained our credit card points to spend four days and three nights at Mandalay Beach in Oxnard [a five hour drive for us, south of Santa Barbara and happily north of the LA area] where the temperature rarely rises above a very perfect 73 degrees.

To get there we passed through the most amazing valley. It was everything you would imagine finding in a bountiful agricultural area in California, including about thirty miles of orange groves. It was exquisite. Delicious fruit and vegetable stands every few miles. It was the best part of the drive, a visual delight.

There were no theme parks, no shopping, no frills. Just beach, pool, pool, beach, beach, pool, beach, pool, pool, pool, beach, beach, pool. The only exception to our strict beach/pool schedule was a short trip over to Ventura to the San Buenaventura Mission Saturday night. Nothing brings out the smiles, the shrieks of joy, the bursts of bodily delight in my children than the beach.

In the beach photos, the waves don't look very big, but they were. BIG. The first night on the beach, as our three big kids were playing in the surf and soaking themselves, a terrifying scene played out with a tiny kid no bigger than Eva getting sucked into a wave that had knocked him down. He had maybe been pulled ten or twelve feet out when his father sprinted from twenty feet up the hill at top speed to pluck him out of the ocean. Tony was holding Eva and he practically threw her to the sand in a micro-second, ready to save the kids life, as did every other adult that watched this near-tragedy unfold. It was scary, I thought OMG we are in the wrong place here!

We all made it home safely with only minor abrasions you might say, from waves tossing us into the sand as if to say get out you are not big enough for me! One thing worth noting, my husband is entirely too fearless with himself and the body surfing. At one point he was so far out and as the current took him further and further from me, my life as a newly single mother flashed before my eyes. I'm not kidding, I was freaked out. I was screaming at my kids to get away from the water because I felt like I could not witness him disappear into the ocean and keep an eye on them as well.

When he finally climbed out of the water and made the long trek back up the beach to me, he said he was never worried for a second. WHAT! After giving me a freaking heart attack! Luckily, I was able to calm myself with the open bar known as the two-hour managers reception at the lovely Embassy Suites. When it's 5:30 p.m. there, you get yourself over to the Surf Room and get in line. Hey, it worked for me.

Back to life, back to reality. Bring it, I'm ready!