I am lounging poolside in a chaise in Seaside Heights, New Jersey. A far cry from where I was a month ago on this day, in surgery. (Update: I am getting better and stronger every single day! Thank you for the outpouring of love!)

The drive down the Garden State Parkway was perfect, no traffic, smooth sailing. I just checked into my room, a quaint motel with a view of the ocean. This was the ONLY Vacancy in ALL the land. The TripAdvisor guest photos did it zero justice, it was worse. It’s a Holiday weekend, so the room cost me $330 a night. I didn’t expect much in terms of aesthetic so I wasn’t too let down. Besides, I was in a pinch and it worked.

I stayed in Room 234, situated right atop the main staircase, I was imagining the noise I would hear from people running up and down the stairs all night. The doorknob was rusty green from the ocean mist. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the smell of damp moldy stale air. The room was just big enough for 2 full beds, a chair, and a bathroom. To get to the bathroom, you were required to climb over the bed. The brand new wall unit air conditioner didn’t fit in with the 70’s vibes of everything else. Although, it was comforting to know that that I’d have some relief from the heat expected later that day.            

Despite the eerily creepy resemblance it had to every motel you’ve ever seen in an exposé on 20/20, I was perfectly content with it all.  A petri-dish of a room held together by semen, feces and the DNA of everyone who has stayed there since it was built in the 1920s.

So why am I even here? Simple answer: Chloe. I am situated exactly 1 mile away from where I left Chloe and her friends a few hours ago. (At an even sketchier motel in the heart of the madness!) It was their final High School hurrah “down the shore”.

This is officially the 4th year the kids and I made this trip. The first two years we did this, we got a big room in a newly renovated hotel just over the bridge in Toms River. I was the cool mom who volunteered to bring them to the shore before they could drive themselves. I may have convinced the girls that I was doing it for them, but I was really in it for myself. In Chloe’s junior year, when one by one the kids started driving, I made an offer they couldn’t refuse. If they let me drive, I would loosen up a little and get them a different hotel room. That allowed for the space and freedom that they wanted while keeping me at ease. It worked out great. I was able to check in on them, we’d run into one another on the boardwalk (accidentally of course… “Share your location” feature on the iPhone). Thankfully the only “emergency” they had in 3 years was for me to drive 25 minutes to the 24 hour Walmart at 2 am for clean sheets because they “just couldn’t sleep in the gross beds”. That is what I was there for!    

This year, after serious contemplation, I made an effort to prove that I am “chill” and getting used to the idea of her becoming an adult. After all, she is living on campus in Jersey City this fall. I made Chloe a promise that I would “fall back” and granted her permission to go “down the shore” with her friends… Without me.

I had every intention of staying home. (I swear!) But, as the months became weeks, then weeks became days, I was dreading the thought of cutting the apron strings. I wasn’t ready. I know, you have heard this story before. Specifically, from me.

Chloe knows me too well, after seeing me struggle with this for the days leading up to Memorial Weekend she finally said: “Mom, I know you can’t do this, just come down…” Music to my ears.

She is an enabler, 100%.

That’s how I ended up here at this Oceanfront Estate writing my blog. Anyway, I love the shore, it brings back such great memories. My parents brought us to Seaside Heights during my childhood summers. The Lundquist Family would spend our days on the beach, jumping the waves and chilly nights in sweatshirts playing in the arcades and going on rides.

Our Dad on the Log Flume – July 1984

The Log Flume was the highlight of the trip. There is something about any ride involving water that makes it doubly exciting. As I look over my shoulder, I can hear the screams and laughter of kids on the rides, it tickles me. Missing, of course, the log flume. Replaced by a more “sophisticated” water park off the boardwalk.

Chloe can never appreciate the beauty of this place as I knew it, Seaside Heights before the storm. Seaside Heights before MTV’s “Jersey Shore”. Seaside before the fire. Everything evolves though.

From left to right: Aunt Sure, Tracey Ann, Mom, Me

Which brings me to this afternoon, I decided to head over to the beach. It is much less crowded than I expected. There are couples and families, very few teens causing a ruckus. I find a nice quiet place in the sand, close to the lifeguards. I manage to get down onto my blanket but I am still not strong enough to get up without some help. So, I look around and wonder which one of these beautiful humans will come to my rescue when I am ready to leave or if I’ll end up washed away in high tide. It’s serene. The water is no longer the murky brown I remember it being as a child, it is much more clear and blueish green. This makes me happy.

The jubilance of the kids around me bring back the great times I had on the beach with my parents, buckets, and shovels, building elaborate sand castles. My father is a master sand-artist. I was great at laying still so I could be buried under the cool sand by my sister, then I would insist she put sand boobies on me. Those were the days. (Yes, I am smiling as I type)

Left – Dee-Dee (me), 6 years old.
Right – Tracey Ann (sister), 7 years old

I am enjoying the unrecognizable version of 2019 Seaside Heights while finishing an episode of the podcast “The Shrink Next Door”. Then, I read a few chapters of my book. Eventually, I try to close my eyes for a few to meditate. I find that I am easily distracted these days. Post-surgery brain??? I feel like I am starting from scratch again, so this is something I am working on. My mind keeps going to my childhood, being in that “car” on the tracks (pictured below) and hearing my parents yell “turn the wheel, turn it, pump the brake” mind you *there wasn’t a brake* and I was scared shitless. I am laughing, alone, on the beach.

 I look back, 35 years back, to a time in my life without worries. You couldn’t put a price on times like this, because if there was a price, I would pay it. In that little beach house. My father, who was an amazing provider but rarely had time to be with ALL of us, finally had time off from his 60+ hour work week. It was rare to have him like this, physically and emotionally there for an entire week. We loved it. I hope that he knows this. As for Mom, she was always there. On these trips, we were able to see a side of her that was much more relaxed. Looking back at it, they made it seem so easy. Traveling with 2 young kids, keeping us entertained and alive.

Dad and I on the beach

As a daughter, I appreciate how much my parents sacrificed for these trips. We weren’t rich in much but love and laughs.

Take pictures, someday, maybe 35 years from now, you will want to look back to make sure things were as amazing as you remember them to be. It is true what they say, a picture speaks a thousand words.

With that said, I gathered my stuff because a family of 5 was closing in on me. All this open space, they sit a stone’s throw away. There were 2 adults and 3 children, about 8, 10 and 13. Over and over, the parents ask the kids to “leave them be” and “to just take a little nap”.

I worked up the strength to stand up, I am proud that I have made so much progress in the 3 weeks since my surgery! I turn to walk away and there it was… Dad and mom (not mine, thank GOD!) were laying in opposite directions, and mom had her head laying on dad’s lap. A sweet sight…. Until I looked closer. Draped over “moms head” was a purple towel and under it, it appeared she was bobbing for apples.

Use your imagination.

Judge me if you must, but I took a photo and that puts a bow on this blog. This isn’t the Seaside Heights I remember, but even so, it is the Seaside Heights I love.

With that said, I gather my stuff because a family of 5 is closing in on me. All this open space, they sit a stone’s throw away. There are 2 adults and 3 children, about 8, 10 and 13. Over and over, the parents ask the kids to “leave them be” and “to just take a little nap”.

I work up the strength to stand up, I am proud that I have made so much progress in the 3 weeks since my surgery! I turn to walk away and there it was… Dad and mom were laying in opposite directions, and mom had her head laying on dad’s lap. A sweet sight…. Until I looked closer. Draped over “moms head” was a purple towel and under it, it appeared she was bobbing for apples.

Use your imagination.

Judge me if you must, but I took a photo and that puts a bow on this blog. This isn’t the Seaside Heights I remember, but even so, it is the Seaside Heights I love.


Dee-Dee Kanhai, aka “The Spice of Suburbia”, was a big city girl for 25 years who was transplanted to the Suburbs of Northern New Jersey. This relocation led to her “undoing” and with that, the discovery of her true self. Besides being a wife and mother to a teenage daughter and toy Chihuahua, Dee-Dee works in finance and owns a small Etsy Shop @LoveTheUndoing, where she sells heart-made jewelry, crystals, and other whimsical crafts. Dee-Dee is a student of life, teacher of meditation, practicing yogi and a mystical moon child.

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