Indecision and The Question that Drove it Away: How I Made up my Mind to Sail South

If action is the basis for success, indecision is the birthplace of failure. And dear god, have I been indecisive this last month...To be fair, I have always considered myself a pretty resolute person; I typically know what I want and go for it. I follow my gut - which usually leads me in the right, or at the very least, an interesting, direction - and I've never been one to hem and haw and change my mind, which is why this past month has been...well...driving me batty.

***

Ever since our last boat and most of all our worldly possessions were taken by Hurricane Irma last summer, we knew that our next boat would not be left in the path of harm (aka: hurricane alley, which is where we happen to live). The storms of last season took away a whole lot from a whole lot of people, but one good thing they swept away in their wake: complacency. No one wants to be caught with their pants down this year (and probably for the next few following) and neither do we. So our plan: sail ourselves south for the peak hurricane months of August and September and haul our boat in Grenada, where storms are "statistically" less likely to strike (knocks on wood). This way, we can enjoy time back with friends and family with relatively little stress (watching hurricane Irma on her death march to our home was pure agony) and our boat will not be a sitting duck in the water. For months this has been our plan; re-visit our former island-hopping cruising days for a short while. The girls are older, they are all great swimmers, and our boat - a Hallberg Rassy 46 - is a legitimate thoroughbred on the water. She loves to sail. This was our plan since we returned in January and I was all about it.

Until the time to leave grew closer and indecision set up shop in my brain.

My first guest was doubt... I turned over a million scenarios in my head and came up with as many excuses why sailing south wasn't really a good idea: "Is our boat really ready?" "Are the girls really ready?" "Would it cut too much into our time back home with friends and family?" "What if the twins get sick and don't sleep well?" "We really need more fans...." "Our dinghy leaks air..." "We don't have solar power or a water maker, we should have those to cruise..." "What if we get into shit weather and I have to help Scott, what will the girls do?" and (shameful to admit) "What will I do without regular wifi!?"  these questions, along with a myriad of others plagued me day and night and opened the door for indecision. Do we stay or do we go? Ultimately (hindsight being the best magnifier) - it was fear that caused me to make the "chicken out" decision to flying home from here - though I didn't think it at the time. I had made up my mind, we were opting out of the sail.

But for some reason the decision was not sitting right.

If I was honest, it did feel very much like a cop-out, the idea of flying home. Sure I had all the excuses and everything sounded hunky dory, but I knew the truth. Scott and I would have a chat, he'd convince me that all would be fine and it would be fun, he'd beg me to come with the girls, and then I'd say, "Okay! We are in!" Two days later, doubt would creep back in and I'd back out again. This flip-flopping happened no fewer than 15 times people! It was driving me (and Scott) crazy. WHY COULD I NOT MAKE UP MY MIND!? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GIRL WHO KNEW EXACTLY WHAT SHE WANTED?! WHY ON EARTH WAS I HOLDING BACK ON THIS?!

I still don't exactly know what my indecisiveness was about or where it was coming from. I suspect a nice chat with a therapist could uncover that, but ultimately, after talking on the phone with my sister and best friend no fewer than thirty times combined, and going over ideas and scenarios with Scott, I - at Scott's urging - looked at my options and thought to myself: what will I regret not doing? Would I regret not flying home a little early to see friends and family while Scott sailed our home south, or would I regret not taking this opportunity to show our girls an adventure, do some traveling, and spend some time at sea? Once I posed the question to myself in that way, the answer came clear as a bell: adventure.

I chose adventure.

And until making this final decision (and, yep, it's final now!) I had no idea how badly I've been craving a little adventure. Call it wanderlust, call it fernweh, call it whatever you want - but that insatiable urge for change, travel and life experience, I have it. It went a *tiny* bit dormant while the kids were small and I had barely any time to come up for air, let alone dream and scheme, but that fire that once was inside and drove me toward the unknown is beginning to flicker again. And I am so excited.

The plan right now is to head to St. Croix on Tuesday to drop off a bunch of stuff we had in storage for friends, and from there we're going to make the 35/40 hour hop to either Guadaloupe (my absolute favorite!) or Dominica. We'll spend a few days in that area and then continue island hopping down the chain, stopping where we feel, finally ending in Grenada where we will haul our boat and fly back to Chicago for fun with friends and family.

This decision feels good. It feels right.

***

If I've learned anything - particularly in the wake of Irma - it's that life and circumstances can change very, very quickly.  My grandfather - a true hedonist and man who lived a life of travel and adventure - always said: if there's an opportunity, take it. And for most of my life that little snippet of advice has carried me to some pretty amazing people, experiences and places. Sometimes it's scary and vulnerable to take a leap into the unknown, but we all know the little venn diagram about comfort zones and where the magic happens (hint: it's outside of it). So we are going to take this opportunity and we are SO excited. I'll be keeping our Facebook and Instagram pages updated where we can, so follow us over there if you want to keep up with us, though my posts will likely be sporadic.

Time to get back to our cruising roots, for a little while at least...

Update from the Blogosphere: How Island Life has Changed Us

I started this post about four weeks ago. It's funny how I always think that coming back to land for a visit will afford me more time to write. We are, after all, living with my mom and there are loads of sitters for me to use. However, it never quite works out like that and I really cannot put my finger on why. So, while the girls nap on this beautiful and sunny 80 degree day - I've popped over here to catch you up on a few things...

***

As you probably know by our >>>Facebook<<< and >>>Instagram<<< accounts, we are back stateside for a visit. It is wonderful and has been a nice change. It goes without saying that the proximity to friends and family is solid gold. It's also happens to be the best season to be here and the worst time to be there at the moment. Summer in the midwest is pretty clutch, and hurricane season in the Caribbean kind of sucks. The threat of nasty storms is imminent, it's hot as hell and things slow down considerably... Residents travel to places far and wide to stave off island fever and businesses close up for the summer or cut back hours. >>> Our business <<<, however, runs all year round which is why Scott stayed behind the first few weeks we were here to get our new staff up and running and focus on boat repair (both >>> our home boat <<< and our business boats needed a lot of work). After four weeks apart, he re-joined us for a well-deserved break.

The girls and I have been here almost two months now (Scott just nearly three weeks) and one fact has become glaringly clear: Island life has changed us. 

We are currently in the land of all. the. things. I could take the girls to any number of parks, pools, museums, events, indoor gymnasiums, theaters and splash pads. There are probably 100 places within a ten mile radius of us to fill our time. And while you'd think we'd come back and relish in all these activities that are not available to us back on Tortola, we - oddly enough - opt to spend most of our time in my mom's backyard, hanging with family and friends. We make mud pies, create obstacle courses, make fairy houses, and engage in the natural environment. Maybe I've set the "fun" bar really low, but some pots and pans with water in them can entertain our girls for HOURS. And - go ahead and call me lazy - if our kids are happy playing in the backyard, I'd certainly rather that than take them to an amusement park where I'm stressed, they're overstimulated, and sugar consumption is greatly amplified.

And this right here is the privilege of having a foot in both worlds: we get to fully enjoy the beauty of both land life and island life because the novelty of "different" doesn't quite wear off. For example, while - to some - the backyard might seem dull or boring (hence the desire for land parents to take their kids to other places for fun and stimulation which we would for sure do as well if we were full-time landlubbers), to our girls - it's a place of wonder, freedom and endless possibilities. And let me tell you, it is SO nice to be able to open the door and let our girls strip down and play in the water and mud without the threat of drowning. A beach might be a wonder to land-locked children, but to our girls this is a standard daily outing (one that, if I am to be honest, sometimes elicits whines of "Oh! Not the beach agaaain!"...I know -wince-, spoiled.) but the backyard? Complete with tire swing, room to run naked and a sprinkler? Now that is really something! It's wonderful to see our girls so wholly enjoying the simple pleasures I did as a child and the fact the backyard is easy, free and doesn't involve me having to pack a backpack of crap and loading and unloading three kids in a car? WIN.

Don't get me wrong...we have left the backyard from time to time...We've gone to pools and parks and friend's places, and we've done two trips to Northern Michigan where Scott's mom and stepdad live (side note: we are experts now at driving long distances with three kids! more on this to come...), and those trips were incredible. Aside from the fact that Michigan in the summer is absolute magic, seeing our girls genuinely form bonds with their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins is something that is important to us and a big focus on these visits home. The driving time also allowed for one on one conversation to happen between Scott and I, something that is a bit of a rarity back on our island where he works so much and where we often pass like ships in the night. During these long drives (over 28 hours in total, egad!) back and forth, Scott and I started mapping out dreams and schemes for far-off future adventures (squeee!) and we made some plans for a great year ahead on our boat with lots island hopping to nearby places and slightly longer getaways to Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic. The possibilities for the year ahead are exciting and now that the twins are a more manageable age (well, kind of) and we've got a solidly awesome team helping to run our business so that Scott doesn't need to be working until 1am every night, travel is on the horizon. This excites us to no end.

*** 

So I apologize for the lack of communication. It drives me nuts when I go dark on here for too long. But the creative juices are beginning to flow and I can feel the writer's block starting to lift...In the meantime, we're enjoying what I am calling a "slow" summer. One where we don't rush from one place to the next, where we don't feel the pressure to fill every day with something or someone new, and one where we  (try!) keep stress as low as possible (because, lets face it, chaos reigns in a home with three small kiddos in it!)  As such, we'll just keep living life in the slow lane. On "island" time, as it were.

Which, for now, happens to be in my mom's back yard.
Our own little island, away from our rock.

Beach, Please: On Playing Goldilocks, Island Style

It never ceases to amaze me how far away we can feel from it all on this island. Despite being a pretty primo travel destination with hundreds of thousands of people flocking here every year, the island remains deceivingly underdeveloped. We are big enough to get a decent haircut or a meal, but not too big that our streets are lined with big box stores or restaurant chains. This delicate balance of maintaining island "authenticity" and halting over-development is something that is pretty unique to the British Virgin Islands and is largely >>> why we chose this island <<< to settle on. Case in point: we can venture to to any number of absolutely pristine beaches - I'm talking jaw-droppingly beautiful shorelines that are the stuff magazine ads are made of - and more often than not we will find ourselves alone or with no more than a few others on a massive stretch of sand. No need to stake out a spot, pay for an umbrella and put down your blanket. The threat of anyone stealing your valuables while you swim is slim to none. And, no, you will not hear the Macarena blasting over a large speaker here... It's just you, me, and the sea, baby...

Just Do It: Saying "Yes" and Breaking out of the Comfort Zone

What do you get when ten women writers who live on different rocks, are total strangers, and have vastly different life stories become roommates in a villa in the middle of Old San Juan? An estrogen-charged "Real World" but with more mature characters who use big words, that's what!

Okay, just kidding. What you get is magic. Pure. Friggin'. Magic.

A Mother's Day Mini-Vacation in Maho Bay and a Nostalgic Awakening

"What do you want for mother's day?" Scott asked me while looking up from his computer. I was making breakfast, the girls were being their usual boisterous selves, and it took me about .02 seconds to reply, "Go to St. John for a night and have brunch in Cruz Bay!" St. John, while part of the United States Virgin Islands (USVI), is a short sail from where we are, and with the blissful haze of our last >>>quick getaway<<< fresh on my mind I was thirsty for more...so thirsty, apparently, that one night away turned into four...

Introducing The Coconuts: A Crazy (Awesome) Family Afloat and Sailing for a Cause

WHEW! Hello from my terribly neglected blog! (I'm very active on Instagram and Facebook though, much easier and less time consuming!) I have all the usual excuses of why I haven't written so I won't bore you with those, but I do have a very cool family (who is doing some very awesome stuff) to introduce you too...

The North Swell Rolls in, and I am Grateful

“The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.” 

―Virginia Woolf, The Waves

Tortola is known more for sailing than surfing... for the most part the trade winds blow out of the east, our waters are (fairly) protected by an archipelago of beautiful islands, and waves on the north shore are mediocre at best most of the time. It's why our beaches are so popular and perfect; they are calm and serene... perfect for swimming and lounging. Great for kids to play and splash. Perfect for paddle boarding and just kicking back... Until a north swell, rolls in, that is. Then Tortola becomes a surfers paradise and people come from around the world to surf here. When I asked my friend Aaron (a big wave surfer who live's on Hawaii's North Shore), if it really got that good here he replied, "Oh Brittany ... when it goes off - it goes OFF. It's a world-class wave".

So when there was talk that a North swell would be rolling in (they always know when it's coming due to weather patterns up north) - the biggest in eight years - I started getting excited. Partly because it's something different (yay, waves!), and partly because I am both in love with and awed by the power of the ocean (remember my review of The Wave?). If you have never had the pleasure of standing next to a beach where six to ten foot waves are crashing, let me tell you, it's incredible. The fury with which the sea hurtles itself toward land is one of the most humbling experiences to behold. The sound it makes when it crashes is almost deafening, you actually need to yell a bit to speak over it, and to see that same wave gently recede away back to the ocean...well, these magnificently and perfectly chaotic natural occurrences serve as a reminder about our place in this world. Quieting my mind is not something that comes naturally to me, but I am in my most meditative state when watching waves crash into the shore, one after another, after another... There is tremendous peace in the chaos of it all.

I am always up for a little adventure with our girls and when my dear friend Meg asked if we wanted to go "wave sighting" - I jumped. I had been thinking the exact same thing when she messaged me. We all piled into my car, cameras and kids in tow, and embarked on a spontaneous 'round the island' wave-hunting adventure. We hit all the major bays on the North side, starting in Apple and finishing in Josiah's. The drive, despite a couple fussy kids from time to time and the crazy island drivers who give me heart palpitations at every corner, was spectacular. Every turn offered a new view and I must have said, "I love it here SO much!" ten times. To live in a visually spectacular place is important to me, and holy moly, do we live in a visually spectacular place.

We stopped outside Bomba Shack and that's where we first saw the massive waves rolling in. The beaches had already all been closed because of this massive swell and the red "Do Not Swim" flags were flying in the stiff breeze. We drove along further and caught a glimpse of a "seaspraybow" - a rainbow created by the large amount of spray coming off the top of the waves glistening in the sunlight - the girls (expert rainbow spotters, in fact) were the first to see it from their view from the back seat. Pure beauty. We drove on further along the coastline, a couple waves crashing onto my car, up to the ridge road, where we continued our tour around hair-pin turns, up steep climbs and down swift slopes...we drove and drove, stopping to take pics, to tell the girls to take it in, to revel in the immense beauty of our adopted island, Tortola. The waves were roaring, powerful and magnificent from every angle. With every crash they screamed the sheer energy the ocean beholds. She can be calm, but she can be fierce. She is a force to be reckoned with.

Our final destination was in East End, in Josiah's bay. We were hoping to see surfers on the water but they weren't out this morning. The waves - we were told by some female surfers on a yoga/surf retreat that we'd just met - we're "too gnarly" in the bays we visited. Something about the period between them and the direction of the wind. We settled down at the beach, watching quietly and decided to get some snacks at Naomi's Place, a little snack shack right there on the beach.

If there is one thing that is quintessentially Caribbean to me, it is the local eatery run by a beautiful West Indian mama cooking her heart out. Naomi did not disappoint...her restaurant, a handful of tables with shell chimes dangling from every window, is as picturesque as can be. The kitchen is open and would pass no FDA test in the US, but it doesn't matter. It feels more like you are in her home than in a restaurant, and patience is the name of the game. Pots, pans and cooking utensils are everywhere and there is order in the disarray. Naomi, with her gentle demeanor and warm smile makes it that much lovelier. She shuffles around in the kitchen, tending casually to bubbling pots and spitting frying pans, her timing as natural and effortless as that of the waves to the shore.

As we waited for our food, the girls checked out Naomi's shell collection and played barefoot in the sand outside her place, we brought no toys and they were perfectly content to explore and play using their minds.  The tingling of shell chimes blowing in the wind combined with the dull roar of crashing waves and the tinny background drone of Naomi's alarm clock radio set the scene. I looked around, surrounded by people I love, and felt a humongous wave of gratitude wash over me. What began as a little spontaneous island adventure had shaken my senses, awakened my creativity and reminded me all that I love about island life.

And my God, do I love island life. For all the challenges and struggles it presents, the beauty it brings forth - for me, my family - is worth it all. Like the waves crashing into the shore, there is magnificence in the chaos.

“[The waves] move across a faint horizon, the rush of love and the surge of grief, the respite of peace and then fear again, the heart that beats and then lies still, the rise and fall and rise and fall of all of it, the incoming and the outgoing, the infinite procession of life. And the ocean wraps the earth, a reminder. The mysteries come forward in waves.” 

―Susan Casey, The Wave

Back to the Boat, Back on Island Time: On Adaptation and Change

It never ceases to amaze me just how adaptable children are. After two months back in the US at my mom's house, I was certain we'd have a little "adjustment" period back at the boat. The girls, after all, are getting bigger, older, and can most certainly grasp the difference between a boat and a house, not to mention the concept of personal space. They loved being back at Grandma's. They have friends back there, we fell into a nice little routine, and - most concerning for me - they became pretty accustomed to life in a three bedroom ranch. They played tag every morning, hid under beds and behind drapery...they enjoyed their own rooms and had plenty of drawers each for their clothes (on the boat they have the equivalent of one small drawer each and only the twins have their own dedicated 'room'). They played in the back yard on the tire swing, pushed baby doll strollers down hallways, and rode bikes and trikes a plenty...Bringing them back to the boat meant a lot of this stuff was going to come to an abrupt halt.

So you can imagine my surprise when, after over a week of being back, I have yet to hear of a single complaint about anything we left back home (minus grandma, of course). I haven't heard any lamentations over the lack of a backyard or whining that they miss the library, nor have the girls put in requests for anything that I thought they might miss - from food to toys - from their time up north. They haven't even asked for television (which was something we admittedly watched significantly more of back in the house). I was, at the very least, prepared for a few sleepless nights as they re-acclimated with their old beds, but, no. In fact, they fell back into napping and night sleeping better than they did these last two months on land! I have to say I was shocked. Each time we have a transition like this I brace myself for a fallout, for tantrums and wonky adjustment periods - and yet - they never happen.  It's incredible and once again our girls show me that mama needs to take a chill pill. "I have no idea why this still surprises me" I told my mom on the phone the other day. "They just fall back into step." To which she replied with her motherly wisdom, "Kids are very adaptable."

And they are. And it's pretty amazing.

***

The days leading up to our departure were super busy on both ends; I was busy packing up and prepping for the flights (remember, I prepare for these things like a ninja!), Scott was up to his eyeballs in work while simultaneously launching and readying Asante for our return (she was on the hard the last three months). I'm glossing over a ton of details but suffice it to say we were frenetic on both ends. The girls and I enjoyed an uneventful day of travel and landed on Tortola just as the sun was beginning to set and the tree frogs start singing their nightly tunes. Our favorite taxi driver, Larry, picked us up with a big smile and huge hugs, and soon we were en-route back to the boat.

The girls were *so* excited to be back. The boat was a flurry of energy; snuggles with daddy, finding "new" toys, running amok (as children who have been cooped up in planes for a whole day are wont to do) and preparing dinner. Meanwhile, I unpacked all our bags.

The next morning we went out to breakfast with daddy and - oh my gosh! - the girls were greeted with so many hugs and fist bumps and smiles from every direction. "Who are you people and where were you?" one fellow breakfast patron asked with a laugh, "I've never seen so many people so excited to see four girls!" It gave us the warm fuzzies to know we were missed since, truth be told, sometimes I think the presence of three very active, loud and exuberant toddlers might cramp our marina's style. It's hard to keep a low profile around here with our crew. Not everyone loves little children and I can respect that - but according to the various workers, wait staff and crew members around us who repeatedly told the girls, "Nanny Cay just wasn't the same without you!" we were missed. And I believe wholeheartedly that Nanny Cay wasn't the same, if for no other reason than it was a lot more quiet!

***

Being back has been amazing and totally rejuvenating. And, okay, it's not all been smooth sailing; my car got a flat on the first day I drove it and I also discovered I can no longer get out of the driver's side door without rolling down the window and opening it from the outside (#islandcars). Other than those minor nuisances, life is good. Scott is busier than ever at the moment, we are down pretty much all our captains this month so he is pulling double duty and burning the midnight oil every night to stay on top of everything. I am so incredibly proud of him and how he's managing because it is not easy. Meanwhile, the girls and I have fallen right back into swing. We have our little routine of breakfast on the boat followed by some morning outing/activity/playdate, then lunch and nap time around noon, then our afternoon outing/activity/playdate followed by dinner, bath and bedtime between 7 and 7:30pm. Of course there are variations and special occasions, but that's the gist of it. Lots of fresh air, playtime with other children, and glorious sunshine. The pool and beach are regulars in our days and then there's the beach bar, which in the afternoon is a hub of activity and where I can let the girls run free with their little friends to climb trees, swing from ropes, build with the beach jenga blocks or hold scooter races. It's simple, no fluff, fun. And mommy can have her afternoon spritzer or two (wink).

Speaking of scooters, our Micro Scooters have now become the preferred method of travel for the girls. These days, instead of me pushing a double stroller to and fro most of the time, you will find our little gang ripping around the marina like little skater girls. It's pretty hilarious to watch because they are so small and so fast, that it's rare for anyone who passes not to smile or giggle because they look so damn cute all in a row squealing and laughing. Yet another reminder of how fast time flies and how with every month a new milestone is reached when kids are little. There is no way I would have trusted them to fly around here a few months ago, but now - it's how they roll and they love the independence. Of course they are wearing their life jackets while doing so - they get ahead of me so quickly now and the threat of falling in is more imminent - the life jackets put my mind and heart at ease. "If they fall in, they'll float" I tell onlookers. Bumps, bruises and scrapes don't phase me. In fact I encourage those things with our girls. But water safety is no joke. Even though the girls know our "rules" and have excellent control over their rides, it's better to be safe than sorry. That PSA aside...we love our "scooter boards" (as Mira likes to call them, oh yeah - the twins are full on talking now!) and if you are looking for a great scooter for your child, you seriously need to check Micro Scooters out.

***

So that is where we are at. It's been a pretty great re-entry to boat life and we have been welcomed back to our adopted island with open arms. Life is simple and we are happy. The fact that our girls have made this transition easy makes me very proud of them and I sure hope that this flexibility continues into adulthood for them (it's a trait that doesn't come as naturally to their mother *coughcough*). Change is not always easy and rarely is it effortless, but it is good. And adaptability is what can make it great. Being back on island, back to our floating home? It's exactly what we needed.

Now...how they will handle pre-school three half-days out of the week? That adjustment might prove a little more difficult, for all of us!

Tiny space? No big deal to these kids. In fact, I think they prefer close quarters!

Always a great option for a morning activity

Scooter races are the afternoon activity of choice on many days

This is what I call the "Meyers Mimosa" - soda water and orange juice. 

Swinging from trees is always fun!

We spend a lot of time crafting and coloring as well, but these mess free Water Wow's are my fave!

"How old is that little girl?" is a question I get all the time about our fearless little Haven.

This is our backyard. I mean...what a view to take in every day. I love it.

Back to the baby pool bath on the aft deck - and we've now discovered that Joy dish soap makes the BEST bubbles. Score!

Beaching it in our SwimZip Swimwear SPF rash guards. Love our little beach babies.

Good bye sun, thanks for a great day! So happy to be able to catch the sunset every night again.

From Cruiser to Expat: On Fernweh and Putting Down Roots Abroad

The incredible experience that lead to this photo would never had happened if I wasn't a local.

There was an internet meme going around a while back that defined the word "fernweh" (n) which is the German word for "farsickness". According to Wikipedia it means: wanderlust, a desire for travel, a longing for far-off places.  I, along with many of my cruising comrades, have this. I cannot say exactly where this "fernweh" in me came from, but I know I had it from a very young age and I suspect it had something to do with being born to pretty adventurous parents. Throw in a well cultivated love of reading (the very best way to travel if you can't actually do so), a thirst for all things "different", and - POOF! - there I was, a child who wanted to see the world and would stop at nothing to do so.

From comparatively exotic family vacations to places like Belize, and fairly regular trips to England to visit my British family - my youth was peppered with the excitement of travel. I was privileged and lucky to experience these things and my parents were sure to remind me of this. As I got older, I literally worked for no other reason that to save money for travel. At eighteen I backpacked around Europe for five weeks, and as I entered my twenties I spent a semester abroad in Rome, Italy. I traveled, solo, around Southeast Asia and South America and while my shoe-string journeys were full of all the adjectives one could use to describe travel (amazing, beautiful, awe-inspiring, eye opening...etc. etc.), I always left wanting more... Not more stamps on my passport or patches for my pack, but...more...something intangible and out of reach. I wanted to feel like I belonged in those places I visited. To sit at the cafe and laugh at the jokes the locals were laughing at. To know the intricacies, the stories, the histories and the true color of a place. I wanted to know about the widowed lady who ran the bakery and the grumpy man who sold the papers outside the flower shop. I didn't want to be a person merely passing through. I wanted to be a local. And a few days to a few weeks in a place just doesn't get you there.

Enter...Africa.

No place in this world has held so much allure to me as East Africa. Growing up, I had read several books that were directly responsible for this blind love affair that began as an early teen, and in college (after reading several more books) I made up my mind that I was going to live there one day. I graduated from University and lived the boozed-up post collegiate city life and loved it. But Africa was always on my mind. After a few party-packed years of care-free fun and not much to show on my resume, I knew I needed a change. A nasty break up with a not so-great-(for me)-boyfriend seemed as good a catalyst as any, and I quit my lucrative yet dead-end waitressing job in the city and signed up for a three month volunteer stint in Tanzania.

I came back three years later.

This experience, way too rich and bohemian to describe in a single blog post, was my first experience as an expat.  It was the most incredible, storied, and adventuresome period of my life thus far and there is no way I would have had even a sliver of the experiences I had if I'd only visited for a few weeks.

***

Which brings us to now. We are expats. We've >>>put down roots here in the British Virgin Islands<<<. And while being an island-dwelling (live-aboard) expat and being a cruiser have quite a few similarities, this is a significant deviation from the suspected plot-line of our well documented story in which we had cast ourselves as roving sea gypsies.

While there are certainly aspects of cruising that I miss; the countless nights at anchor, the freedom of coming and going, seeing the sun rise on the ocean and the excitement of a new landfall - for me, being an expat is, in many ways, more fulfilling.

While we were cruising, we would only scratch the surface of a place. We'd visit a few beaches and towns near the anchorage. We'd visit a restaurant or two and maybe get friendly with a market vendor during our time, but knowing that we'd be leaving in a few day's or a few week's time meant our understanding of a place was always limited. Don't get me wrong, you can (and will!) have incredible cross-cultural experiences as a cruiser but they will be different to those you have as an expat. As an expat, we are certainly not acquiring as many passport stamps, but the experiences we are living have that much more depth.

So what do I love most about expatriate living?

Getting to Know A Place

For one, we have a car at our disposal which means getting off the beaten path and exploring farther afield is that much more feasible. We've lived here for about a year in total and we've only just begun to see what this place has to offer. Part of this slow learning curve is due to the fact that a busy work schedule and a gaggle of girls limits us significantly, but it's also due to the fact that it takes a long time to really get to know a place. We are now getting to know customs (for example, here you always say, "Good Morning" or "Good afternoon" when walking into a place of business or a store, not doing so is considered rude) and the inner-workings of island life (like how to deal with island time, the 'powers that be' and general island bureaucracy.) We still have a lot to learn, but time is an expats greatest teacher. In my experience, it takes at least six months to really sink your teeth into a place...

Cultural Diversity

While the "melting pot" of America is certainly diverse, where I grew up you would need to go to great lengths to not only see that diversity, but interact with it on a daily basis. If Isla was living in my hometown (which, I might add, is a wonderful place!), odds are she'd be in pre-school with no children of color, and seeing a rainbow of ethnicities would be reserved for trips to the city. Here, she is the minority. We interact every day with children and adults from all over the world, and - as a parent - this is very important to me, and a huge bonus of expatriate life.  We certainly got this perk from cruising as well, but instead of playing for a single afternoon, or sharing one single conversation or sundowner on the beach, we are forging more consistent relationships with people from all over the globe. Our girls have a steady group of little friends, which I think is important for them at this age.

Like Minded People

Expatriates, I learned first in my experience in Tanzania and am learning again here, are a different breed of folk. As with cruising, it takes a certain type of person to up and move from their homeland to somewhere foreign. Forming friendships with other expats is usually pretty easy - people who want to live abroad tend to be more open-minded, accepting, and cut from a similar cloth. We are all a dose of hedonist mixed with a pinch of crazy. While the expatriate community is transient, the coming and going of so many interesting people in your life can be very stimulating and inspiring. While the relationships you make might not be as longstanding as, say, a childhood friend, they carry a different kind of depth and connection that is equally fulfilling in a whole new way. Stronger relationships are forged in a shorter amount of time, which is the same with cruising, except with our fellow expat friends we're not saying "goodbye" nearly as much, which is a nice change.

Adaptability

As with cruising, living as an expat requires a good amount of adaptability. Things don't work like they do back home and island life takes more effort in general. You learn to get by with what's available or improvise. Because of the comparative lack of resources you will, in general, be much more inventive with what you do have. Furthermore, making an effort to integrate yourself into another culture, and not simply acting as an observer, will force you out of your comfort zone and show you the importance of being flexible, open-minded, and accepting.

Adventure Every Day

I've already written about the fact that >>>island life is not for everyone<<< and is by no means utopia. But if you are the kind of person who can find beauty in the mundane, laugh at the absurd, and stop and smell the roses, this life is full of excitement - it's all about your perspective. For example, one quick run into town as a family turned into a full morning out when we decided to take our car to the pop-up car wash. Sure, they took over an hour and a half to get our car cleaned, but instead of being annoyed, I chose to find the beauty in it. The car wash was basically a street party; loud speakers blasting music, friends washing cars while shaking their hips to the beat, and a giant water truck providing the means to clean...it was an event! I ended up doing a little photo shoot and it was so fun to embrace this experience as something we'd never have back home. Perspective.

Stability

While there was a time in my life I would scoff at the notion of stability, as a mom of three little ones, I embrace it. I love that our girls have a little consistency in their lives.  They love our "neighborhood" of Nanny Cay and the community we live in is a HUGE reason why we chose Tortola as home. We have wonderful friends and neighbors and a few days before we left a taxi driver told my mom, 'We love those kids. That family is very good to us and we watch after those girls. All of us here love them and look out for them." He then told her he was going to taxi us to the airport, for free, as a gift (turns out Scott got off work so he could take us, but still...) I nearly cried when I heard that. Aside from the sense of community, being in one place means we have some nice land-lubbing liberties that were not available to us when cruising... Very soon the girls will be going to a little preschool a couple days a week to give mommy a break and to give them a chance to experience a slice of life away from my hip (which, for the record, they've never been away from their entire lives!) I'm excited about this for all of us.

***

Do we miss cruising? Of course. It's an incredible lifestyle and one that we have plans to return to one day. But I love expat life just as much and in a different way. Luckily for us, we chose to live in one of the >>>most popular cruising destinations in the world<<<, so there are many similarities between the lifestyles and elements that still remain the same. Do I still suffer from fernweh? Yep. Do I long to travel freely and experience new and different places? For sure. Will we do everything in our power to show our girls as much of the world as we can? You betcha. But this period of our lives, the one where one day we will be able too look back and talk about the time we lived in the British Virgin Islands? It's pretty incredible too.

“What makes expat life so addictive is that every boring or mundane activity you experience at home (like grocery shopping, commuting to work or picking up the dry cleaning) is, when you move to a foreign country, suddenly transformed into an exciting adventure. Try finding peanut butter in a Japanese grocery story or explaining in broken Spanish to the Guatemalan pharmacy that you need cough drops and you’ll understand. When abroad, boredom, routine and ‘normal’ cease to exist. And all that’s left is the thrill and challenge of uncertainty.” 

 – Reannon Muth

So You Want to Live on an Island? Thirteen Things to Consider Before You Move to Paradise

We live in paradise. It's true. This place we call home, the >>>British Virgin Islands<<<, are frequently touted in glossy magazines as a primo world travel destination and regularly featured on "top ten" lists for one or all of the "three B's" (beaches, bars and beauty). Our pictures make you swoon, our tans make you jealous, and the fact that you are shoveling snow while we are lounging poolside kind of makes you want to kill us. Yes, our lives appear pretty idyllic from our >>>Instagram photo feeds<<< ... but are they? Well, yes and no. While island life ab-so-lutely has it's merits (duh!), it is definitely not for everyone. Might living on a rock be for you? Well, after five years of living on and around islands, here are some things I've observed that you might want to consider:

1. Everyone will know your name. If you love small town living, island life might be for you. Everyone knows everyone here, and if you don't know everyone, chances are they've heard about you or you've heard about them before you even met. While this "small town" nature of island life comes with a comforting sense of community and accessibility, it also comes with the not so awesome side effect of gossip. And holy crap, scandal and drama - real or finely tuned through the "coconut telegraph" - is everywhere. 
2. Power and water run out, regularly. Infrastructure is often lacking on islands. We happen to live at a marina with it's own reverse osmosis water system and a hefty back up generator so we are very lucky to not suffer from this common island affliction. But most folks who live here are very regularly lamenting about power outages which seem to happen a lot. And water? You know, the stuff that pours out of your faucets whenever you want it? Yeah, that runs out too. It is not unusual for entire areas of the island to be waterless for several days at a time. I have one friend who's water went dry mid-shower. And don't even get me started on fast internet or conditions of the roads... 
3. It's harder to get stuff. Second hand shopping is common here regardless of social class or wealth.  Our beautiful island lacks big box stores of any kind and while I absolutely love the absence of blatant American consumerism and the eyesore of it all, it also means many of the things we are used to buying back home are not available here or are very expensive. My hunt for three car seats turned up with zilch (literally could. not. find. three carseats to buy on this rock) that I eventually had to suck it up, buy them online, and have them shipped down from the US (making them the most expensive carseats on the island, possibly in the entire Caribbean, maybe in the world...) From furniture to cars, kids toys to water toys, a lot of your stuff will be second hand. Anything that's not might have to be purchased off island and sent down via traveling friend or shipping company. How much you miss the amenities of the mainland will depend on your ability to be patient and/or flexible (or how many off island visitors you get!), but most people will feel some sort of consumer pang quite regularly whether it be because you can't get something or the exorbitant cost of it.

   

   We've been known to ship everything from boat parts to kids' toys down.
4. You will be behind on a lot. When people talk about a movie or show, I often ask if it came out after 2010 when Scott and I left to go cruising, because we have absolutely no clue about anything that came out after that. Game of Thrones? Breaking Bad? OITNB? These mean nothing to me. Then again, this is largely due to the fact that we don't have television and don't have a good/comfortable place to watch our computer after the kids go to bed but still...living on an island usually means you will be a step behind when it comes to trends, news, pop culture, fashion, and giving a crap about any of it. If you *do* care about the latest and greatest in x,y or z, island life might not be for you.
5. Garbage, trash and litter is up close and personal. The pictures we post of our island are often from the best beaches and the best views, but what you do not see are the not so pretty sides of life on a rock. The side that shows you how serious the issue of pollution, particularly in the ocean that surrounds our home, is. Remember that time our family >>>cleaned up the trash at the park in town<<<? We've been to beaches in the windward islands that are covered in plastic, trash and debris. It's sad to imagine that some people have that little respect for the environment but it's something we've seen on just about every island we've visited. Tortola, however, is very clean compared to others and it's one of the many reasons we love it here. Even still, you will see an impressive amount of trash if you get off the beaten path.

   

   A garbage bag full of trash we collected at a park one day.

6. Goodbyes are a regular occurrence. Aside from the fact that most of us are away from our families and have to say "bye" to our visitors, island communities are often very transient. While some people come here and stay forever, most do not. They are here on contract, for a few years, or as part of a temporary adventure. Add in the fact that we are host to vibrant yachting and cruising communities and"...people come and go so quickly!" Maybe for this reason or because of it, it can be hard to find friends and some people can find island life very isolating. If you are single, finding a mate can prove very challenging as well.
7. "Island time"is legit. In the day and age of "instant gratification", this is a tricky one for many to handle. However "island time", while not a scientific measure, is 100% real. Urgency is not a thing here (unless your are on the road where it is very much a "thing".) Life is definitely s-l-o-w-e-r and while that might sound appealing at first, the reality of it is often a shock to the system. Island time varies from task to task, but is - on average -  two to three times longer than you would expect to do/accomplish/finish said task. It can be as simple as a painfully slow clerk at the grocery store who takes no fewer than 10 minutes to scan your not-in-the-system-for-some-reason strawberries or as severe as your husband dropping off a small poster to be framed the week before your birthday, for your birthday (April 27th) and getting said birthday present/poster in the middle of July. Yes, 'island time' is real and if you are a task-master used to fast-paced city life, you will have some serious adjusting to do.
8. Bureaucracy is no joke.  I like to call it bureauCRAZY down here. From immigration to labor to customs, the name of the game is waiting. Waiting in line. Waiting to get a ticket in order to wait in line. Waiting for someone to call your name to tell you to wait some more. Waiting for approval. Waiting for a stamp from another department. Waiting for an official to come back from vacation. So. Much. Waiting. God forbid you try to run a business down here because no matter how many people you hire to get all your legal ducks in a row and no matter how many officials you speak with to clarify things, you will definitely get it wrong. Mark my words. And then you will have to deal with even more bureaucrazy. And then you will have to wait some more. Before you are a legal resident you will have waited no fewer than 262 hours in various departments and will have filled out your body weight in forms. 

   

   Just one of the approximately 1,436 forms I had to read and/or fill out.

9. Weather can be brutal. I will never forget the summer we spent in Grenada while I was pregnant with the twins without air conditioning. It was >>>so. effing. hot<<<. My uncle was just here last month and he walked around with a towel on his person that had one purpose alone: to wipe away/absorb his sweat. It was profuse. I'm pretty sure he lost half his body weight in perspiration and I doubt he will be coming back any time soon. It was very uncomfortable for him. NEWSFLASH: THE HEAT CAN BE AS LIMITING AND OPPRESSIVE AS THE COLD. While our winter's kick your winter's ass in terms of we are drinking rum drinks on the beach while you shovel snow, our summers are brutal and can be ungodly hot. As if the mind-bending heat wasn't enough, we also have the threat of hurricanes five months of the year. This is unnerving and potentially catastrophic, particularly if you live on a boat and own three others as your livelihood (insert emoticon with wide eyes and teeth). 

   

   He showered 3x a day. Still no relief. The heat is for real.

10. You might get bored. I know this sounds insane because when you came here on vacation you filled every day and still didn't see it all, but islands are islands and their very nature means they are limited. There are only so many beaches, bars, and activities to occupy your time. We don't have the museums, theaters, art houses, libraries and music venues to explore. There are only so many shops, clubs and restaurants to frequent and if you are someone who doesn't like to do the same thing twice or needs to be doing "something" all day every day, well, you should probably reconsider island living. While there is much to do for the water enthusiast, people who don't embrace the simple pleasures island life allows (and there are many!) can be somewhat disenchanted and limited by choices. It is, I think, for this reason that drinking becomes an olympic sport here. Day drinking at 3pm on a Monday? Why not!
11. You will inevitably come down with "Island Fever."According to Maui Goodness, "Island Fever is the phenomena of feeling claustrophobic from the close proximity of each shoreline, and feeling disconnected from the outside world. This is a pretty common thing on the islands... Most people move away after a few months to a few years because of a lack of family and the necessity of having all the amenities of the mainland at their disposal." We have never lived on one island long enough to come down with this very real affliction, but have heard many a story about it. For this reason many seasoned islanders recommend getting "off the rock" at least once a year.
12. You will be an outsider. Here on my island you are either a belonger or...not.  As in "You belong" or "You do not belong." I am not joking. "Belonger" is the actual term and if you are one, you have a card in your wallet that says so. To become a "belonger" is only slightly easier than becoming a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what it entails but I know it's just about impossible for me to ever become one so I don't really sweat it. Being a belonger has many, many perks that an non-belonger does not enjoy (having to deal with less bureaucracy is a big one) but it is how it should be and I get it. Regardless, I will never "belong" here.   And finally...
13. Living with that feeling that everyone thinks your life is perfect because you live here when in reality you are living with items 1-12 on a daily basis! It's true, once you relocate to paradise you simply are >>>no longer allowed to complain<<< because, obviously, our life is one giant vacation and we should just shut up and be grateful.  (thanks to my friend >>Claudia<<, for this one!)

    

    It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but it's pretty damn awesome if 1-13 aren't problems for you.

All said, I absolutely *love* living as an expat on an island (more in-depth post on this subject coming soon). I find this lifestyle vibrant, inspiring and I truly love my experience here. It's not all sunshine and rainbows (there are a lot of those, of course), and I've never met Jimmy Buffett or Kenny Chesney, but it *is* unique and if you have a flair for dichotomy and embrace the fact that adventure (and not always the thrilling kind you chose) awaits you each day, it just might be for you.

Word to the wise: if you still think that living on an island is for you, read Don't Stop the Carnival: A Novel by Herman Wouk. It is, so far, the best book about living and working in the islands I have ever read. It's a classic and will prepare you for living and working on a rock better than anything. We considered it "required reading" for our crew.

Living Afloat with Littles: Is Raising Toddlers Harder on a Boat?

When people find out that we live on a boat with our four year old and two year old twins, the overwhelming reaction is one of shock quickly followed by disbelief and then wonder. "You live on a boat with those girls? There is NO way I would be able to do that!" they say. "But, wow... Good for you!" Then they think for a second and an inquisitive look crosses their face as they finish with, "What's it like?" I am here to say that, yes, living on a boat is certainly different than raising kids on land, but it's not necessarily as demanding as you might imagine. In many ways it *is* harder, in some ways it's easier and in others it's exactly the same (i.e we still deal with tantrums and meltdowns, we are constantly operating at a base line of exhaustion, and the conundrum of what in the h*ll to cook for dinner is a daily struggle, to name a few.) Scott and I have lived aboard since 2010 and taken several substantial "land breaks" in the states during that time, so we have experienced each lifestyle with our family. Just like everything, there is a yin and yang balance of plusses and minuses to both so the answer to the title question isn't a simple "yes" or "no"...

***

WHAT'S HARDER?

The real differences lie not in the fact that we live on a sailboat, per se, but are a family of five living in a >>"tiny" home<<. There are definite challenges to this arrangement...

Lack of Space: Captain Obvious here! We live in a two "bedroom" boat that is slightly larger than an average sized RV. At forty-four feet, >>our boat<< is by no means "small" for a cruising monohull (in fact it is pretty average), but a) most cruisers are couples and not families and b) our livable square footage is actually less than an average home's living room. It's...cozy. Our twins share a room (and to call it a 'room' is laughable) and Isla sleeps in >>a make-shift bunk bed we created in our walk-thru<< to the aft cabin. We have almost zero privacy and no doors except for those on the twins' room and our bathrooms. Our communal living space is halved when we raise up our (folding) dining table and if we are all aboard, we are - quite literally - tripping over each other. Hosting out of town guests? Forget about it, we simply do not have the space.

This is where they play most of the time. Note that if I need to go to the bathroom, galley, nav station or cockpit I must step over children.

Fewer Amenities: We don't have a microwave, a dishwasher, or a washer/dryer. We have no television. Storage space is hugely truncated as well; we don't have a large pantry, closets or spacious cupboards to store food and gear and instead rely on awkward spaces behind cushions and under floorboards to squirrel things away. Our refrigerator is a glamorized cooler and the act of packing and unpacking it requires a zen level of patience and serious Tetris skills (neither of which I possess). We have no adequate indoor bathtub or shower, and thus must bathe and shower outside on deck or walk to the marina showers a few docks down (not always realistic or convenient with three little kids in tow!) All of these things make day to day living just a little bit harder.

No Dedicated Play Area: Most homes have a dedicated play space for their kids, it might be a basement, a child's bedroom, a playroom or a back yard. In this area toys rule the roost and kids are usually free to make a mess at their will, play safely, and - in most cases - out of their parent's way. We do not have this luxury. There is no dedicated area for the kids to play on our boat, they play in the salon which also is our dining room, living room, office and recreation room - meaning to get from point A to point B at any given time, I usually have to step over an array of play things and a child or two. There is literally no escape!

Our table which does duty as our craft area, stage, fort (underneath) and also happens to halve our salon space.

No Personal/Entertainment Space: Personal space? What's that? Pile on's aren't the exception, they are the rule on our boat! Joking aside, we are more or less a "one room" house and getting away from one another is pretty much impossible on our boat. It's very easy to get overwhelmed when the girls are fighting and there's only one place to put them - or me - in a time out, and our very close proximity (and the fact that we have two year old twins!) means things go from cool to crazy very quickly (and by "crazy" I mean bat-sh*t crazy!) We rarely host play dates because our three girls alone fill the space and any more kids just gets nuts, and having friends over for dinner is almost impossible with sleeping children around. We also run a >>very busy day charter business<< and Scott does all the admin for that...when he needs our boat to double as his 'office' during the day, the girls and I must make ourselves scarce because it's impossible, literally impossible, to work alongside three very active little girls in a small space.

Yeah, attempting to get work done with three toddlers in a communal living space is pretty futile.

Safety: Ah, the issue of safety. By nature I am not a helicopter mom, but a boat floats which means we are surrounded by potential hazard and I cannot give them the freedoms I would if we lived on land. Of course we have >>taken every precaution to keep our girls safe<<, just as any parent would, but, unlike a parent who can feel safe letting their kids run free in their fenced-in back yard, we do not have that luxury. If our girls are on deck, they must be monitored. Until >>they can all swim adequately<< this will be an ever-present issue and it just goes with the territory. And can we talk about getting all three of them on and off the boat?! Phew! It's like getting three kids in and out of carseats...but harder. Lifting three toddlers on and off a boat 3-4 times a day? That's a CrossFit workout right there!

She climbs up here by herself. She's two. Our adventurous kids keep us on our toes!

The list goes on.

The challenges are there and they are real.  There are times when an extra bedroom, an office, a comfy couch in front of a flat-screen t.v, a playroom, locking doors, a garage and a backyard would be positively lovely.

BUT...

The world is our oyster (how many homes do you know >>can up and sail to another island<<?) and the challenges of living small also bring forth many benefits....

WHAT'S AWESOME?

Family bonding: Our girls are never more than ten feet from my person, so I always know what is going on and simply being close to them means I am always there. This might not seem like a big deal, but our close proximity to each other day in and day out is fostering strong familial bonds as a direct result of this togetherness. So. Much. Snuggling! Our girls are sisters, playmates, and bunkmates and are leaning >>valuable lessons<< in side-by-side playing, personal space, cooperation, respect for another's space and conflict resolution because of this. Being so close in age means they often play with the same toys exacerbating these lessons and life skills. Of course this closeness also results in epic cat-fights, tantrums and ear-piercing meltdowns, but - hey - they are laying some pretty solid ground work and it is my belief that, in the long run, being physically close as a family will result in emotional close-ness later on (>>crosses fingers<<).

Grainy pic, but this is a pretty standard morning shot. We all pile into mommy and daddy's bed and cuddle. 

Less to Clean: It's true that messes are quick to be made in a very small space, but they are very quick to be tidied up as well. It literally takes me all of ten minutes, tops, to clean up our entire living space after a couple hours of play. Crumbs on the floor after lunch? My trusty dustbuster will clean up the whole floor in five minutes flat! The girls are learning the importance of playing with a few things at a time, putting those things away, and playing with something else. Of course they are kids and make a mess and have fun, but because every toy has a place, they know to clean up after themselves. Most of the time. ;)

This is a game they love to play. I'm not sure what it is, but they set up chairs with pillows and blankets, and sit there. 

Less stuff : The >>benefits of owning less stuff are vast<<. While we are by no means 'minimalists', the simple act of living on a forty-four foot boat means we have less than most because we simply have less room. This goes for toys as well. Having fewer toys means our girls are more imaginative with >>what they do have<<, and I believe that this has honed their self-entertainment skills and creative ability. They can quietly sit alongside each other and play - together or alone - for long stretches of time with the toys that they have and when those get old, their imaginations start to soar. Pillows, blankets and the most mundane things become forts, gowns and spaceships. Watching them play together is such a joy for me. And while we do watch the occasional movie on our computer, and I certainly see the value of utilizing the iPad from time to time, we do not have television and I strongly believe that limiting screen time has also helped foster their ability to self-entertain and be creative with play, and each other.

Their sisterly bond and friendship is something that is very important for me to help cultivate if I can.

Multicultural Experience: We live on a very small island where a multitude of nationalities reside. Every day our girls interact with Dominicans, Puerto Ricans, Jamaicans, British, French, Guyanese...the list goes on. Living at a vibrant and very popular marina means they meet new people - and hear a litany of dialects and accents - every day. They greet the lawn workers with the same respect as the general manager and every week, they share the swimming pool with local islanders with mental and physical disabilities ranging from downs syndrome to autism. Our marina is a magnet for young people - local and expat - and our girls play with kids of all ages regardless of social class or skin color. This sort of exposure is helping shape their world view and, hopefully, helping to create more worldly, tolerant and compassionate people.

Our resident coconut man, we love him! Each time we see him we get water nuts, fruit and hugs!

Safety: I mentioned the fact that being surrounded by water is a safety concern, and it is. But in many ways I feel safer on our boat with our girls than I do in most homes. Boats, by nature, are actually pretty child-proof. All cupboards on a boat are self-locking which means our girls can rarely get into places they aren't supposed to, so the fear of them getting into cleaning supplies or medicines is highly unlikely. Furthermore, our girls are bonafide monkey's who love to climb and test their limits (a skill and curiosity I fully encourage and rarely dissuade), and - on a boat - there's no chance of a television, dresser or armoire toppling over on them. And, again, the fact that they are never more than ten feet from my person means whatever trouble they can get into, is often discovered very quickly.

She is our resident Denis the Menace. Her spirit is wild and her mind fearless. She is awesome.

Outside Everyday: Living in a (relatively) small sailboat forces us outdoors a lot more than we probably would be if we lived in a house and had more space. More time outdoors means more time in nature, more vitamin D, more interacting with the natural environment, socializing with our community and neighbors, and more time swimming, running, digging and playing. >>All good stuff<<, for sure! I never feel isolated as a "stay on boat" mom because all I need to do is get off the boat and walk the dock for a moment before I can talk to a fellow mom, vacationer, cruiser or friend. What we lack in organized structures like museums, play parks, and activity centers (because there are not many of those things here!) we get in nature. We have our choice of beaches to explore, islands to visit, and water activities to indulge in and we love that. We spend our days playing and not rushing from organized activity to organized activity. Instead of constantly being entertained, our girls are learning to entertain themselves.

Trying to find indoor pictures for this post was hard because 95% of our waking hours are spent OUTSIDE!

Community: This has more to do with where we live on our boat than the fact that we live on a boat, but - still - it's worth noting. As I mentioned above, living "small" means we get out a lot more. Our girls live in a "neighborhood" (marina) where we know just about everyone, by name, and each day our kids are hugged, greeted and held by a whole slew of familiar faces from the maintenance men to taxi drivers to the restaurant waitstaff. Everyone has an eye on our girls and we all help one another out. Islanders live and understand the "village mentality" which is really refreshing, particularly for parents like us who have >>"free rage" tendencies<<. The restaurant staff will tell my kids to behave and the dock assistant will grab a child that's run too far from me and bring her back with a smile. We have neighborhood kids as babysitters and to summon them all I need to do is walk around the docks and find them. Our girls join us at happy hour where they are greeted by all our friends and every Friday we enjoy a giant beach BBQ with fellow islanders and marina guests. It's awesome.

***

The bottom line, and one that I have preached many times on this blog, is that little children are completely adaptable and as long as the parents can adjust (and this here is the tricker part!), living on a boat is very do-able with kids. Some things will be easier than you expect, some will be tougher - but one thing is certain, parenting is hard work no matter where you are.  You will need to find your own groove, develop your own systems and do what works for you. This lifestyle is most certainly not for everyone and while it works very well for us and our family (most of the time...), there are just as many people who wouldn't last a week living like we do. Some people thrive living in a city, some prefer suburbs, others find peace in rural areas and we happen to live on an island. There are families that live in busses, cars, tents and yurts...Whether or not a certain lifestyle 'works' and is 'easy' really depends on the person and, pun intended, what floats their boat.

Shirtless, dirty, and swinging fearlessly from a rope on a tree. As it should be!

Me? I wouldn't change how we live for the world. If I had a dime for each time I heard, "What a fantastic way to grow up!" I'd have that three cabin monohull we've been eyeing. And I completely agree! We thrive on the living with less and I believe our unconventional lifestyle is doing incredible things for our girls in these very formative years. We have less in many ways, but in others we have so much more. Each challenge is an incubator for thought, growth, and integrity. There are many >>side effects to the way we live<<, and most of them are positive.

Is is harder? A little. Is it worth it? Totally.

* Big thank you to Facebook follower, Chris Wick, for asking this question and inspiring this post!