PB & J summers: five sisters, two brothers, and Mom

a snapshot from my smartphone-free, 90's childhood (and thank goodness for that, because no one except my mother should have photos of me in hand-me-down swimsuits)

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Summer days were for water. We didn’t have central air, and sometimes Dad had the van. So, when we weren’t playing in our backyard pool or sprinklers, we were biking to the lake.

I still wonder how Mom did this with seven kids. I’ve never been a fast bike rider and I can’t imagine that I was keeping up well at six years old. How did she manage to get us all there? Perhaps a couple of big kids led the way while mom hung in the back with us younger ones. This was a frequent trip for us, biking to the lake.

My mother made sure we had the necessary supplies. I never had to worry about that, and I doubt as the youngest that I ever had to haul any bags on the bike ride. We probably had our swimsuits on under our clothes because the beach didn’t have much for bathrooms at the time. We had our towels and sunscreen, pool noodles, and floaties. You won’t catch Mom even today, going swimming without a floaty.

Then there was the lunch bag. Or supper rather, as my sister reminded me. Mom preferred to swim when the lifeguards were off duty, which was something like 5 or 6 pm. Mom was “the lifeguard,” and we also were in swimming lessons, so we all had some amount of water safety skills under our belt.

I don’t know about your 90’s childhood, but mine consisted of many a PB & J sandwich. Cooler kids seemed to always have Lunchables or Happy Meals, but we never splurged on delicacies such as these. No, we were more of the resourceful kind of family. One of the big kids or Mom would dig out the trusty peanut butter and jelly. Sandwiches were made beforehand and then stuffed back into the bread bag for easy packing.

Even as the least picky child of the family, I did not enjoy eating these. It was one thing to eat them at home, but in the hot July sun, holding sandwich bread between damp sandy fingers, you’d see that grape jelly was half-soaked through the bread by the time you ate it, and the slices were not their best fluffy texture. It was always grape jelly. I may have been ten years old before I realized that there were other types of fruity fillings like strawberry jam. But were we going to complain? No, not if we wanted to go to the beach again. This is what Mom had packed and this is what we would eat. Graham crackers were a highlight though; you could always count on graham crackers as sure as you could count on soggy sandwiches.

It wasn’t the best beach around. There was a lot of seaweed and there were drop off spots you had to watch for. My sisters and I shrieked when fish nipped at our toes, but there were just as many giggles from us as well. I don’t remember these beach trips happening with friends, because this wasn’t the kind of place to take friends to. The way I remember it, hardly anyone else was ever there. It was us kids and Mom. She was always in her happy place (still is) when floating. She’d tie her floaty ring to the buoy so that the waves couldn’t push her too far out, and from there she could keep eyes on all of us.

Looking back, it seems that nothing ever went wrong at the beach. It was neutral sandy ground. No major sibling fights, our biggest concerns being that we had to stay away from nasty seaweed spots, watch for fish, and warn our fellow sister to swim away if we were about to warm up the water.

At the beach, there was always someone to play with, someone to talk to. In my case, multiple someone’s: my brothers and sisters. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather eat soggy, slightly smooshed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with.

Were your summers spent at the beach? The pool? What were your packed lunches like? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.