lunch at Half Moon Bay

We went to the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin festival this weekend, which really was just a bunch of tents and people walking around. There may or may not have been a big pumpkin somewhere that they charged $15 a photo, which therein qualified it as a pumpkin festival. 

Navigating a double stroller through herds of sheep people is not my idea of a fun time. The boys got antsy in the stroller and decided to walk, and with my hands death gripped onto theirs, we walked. They didn't want anyone else, they didn't try to escape. They just walked at their own pace with me for the longest time. They're turning into kids you guys. They aren't babies that you can just push around in a stroller anymore, they're real-life kids. And it makes me happy slash sad all at the same time.

We stopped at a local deli and decided to ditch the crowds and head to the beach. It was windy and cool and I was so glad we'd worn actual fall clothes, although the weather inland failed to agree. We found some little picnic tables to all eat our lunch and enjoy the views. The bay is really much different here than in Southern California. More rocky and rough, the water seems a little colder and more unforgiving...more of something to look at than to be in.

Oh, wait...did I say it was a relaxing lunch on a beautiful beach? This is what lunch on a beach with toddlers REALLY looks like. Lots of wind, too much sun and squinting, and impatient seagulls just slowly boxing us off the table. Our picnic ended with being dive-bombed by about 15 psychotic seagulls while we yelled and quickly tried to pack everything up. Meanwhile, Isaiah stood by the stroller with a bag of chex-mix in hand, evil laughing and holding the bag up toward the birds. He thought the entire thing was hilarious. 

It was such a short picnic but this last photo is one of those I'd like to put in a photo album and remember forever. Someday when the boys are grown men looking through these old albums they'll ask me about it, about the day. What, at the time, seemed like a failed picture-perfect picnic will be a sweet memory of motherhood for me, and a chance to relive it with the boys. 

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