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...

Mobile Home For the Win: Life on a Boat

When you have young kids in tow, travel can be tricky. Throw in a set of three year old twins who have no shortage of "spunk" and are a healthy dose of "feral", and it gets even tricker. Simply >>>flying back to my mom's<<< stateside with my three creates an angst in me of epic proportions, and despite living a slightly more "simplified" life than most landlubbers, we still end up with heap tons of crap. And this here is probably the number one reason I love living on a boat: We can travel in our home. All that crap comes with us.

Granted, it still can be challenging to travel with tots on a boat (I mean, it's a boat), but it's still our home and, well, it certainly doesn't get much easier than that as far as travel prep goes. No packing lists necessary. No worrying about forgetting lovies, sound machines or the special "baby socks" that for some unknown reason must be worn every. single. day. No need to try and pare down the absolute essentials of our lives in duffle bags and backpacks, or pack the perfect spectrum of snacks that can be both nourishing and still used as effective bribing tools. We just untie the lines and go. Everything we could ever want or need is right here in our very own floating home. #mobilehomeFTW

There are negatives, of course. Boats are kind of bitchy at times. They are money pits. They can be confining and cluttered. They break a lot, yadda yadda yadda... Then there are the personal constraints: we are not able to travel very far at the moment, nor do we travel very fast, or very much for that matter...this is dictated by choice, of course...our current situation as >>>business owners<<< and parents of three small children keeps us tethered close but no matter what, the potential is there and that alone provides a wellspring for possibility. So while the trips to Europe, Africa and South East Asia that I am scheming in my head will have to wait, it's perfectly okay because we don't need to go very far from our slip to feel worlds away. Being situated here in the >>>British Virgin Islands<<< means we are literally surrounded by amazing places to explore in every single direction. Some are a day or two away, some no more than an hour. 

This past weekend our neighbors (fellow live-aboards) asked if we wanted to sail over to Peter Island with them. My plan for the afternoon had been to do a massive purge of kids' clothes and toys (I am forever tweaking, minimizing, and organizing over here)...so when Scott broached the subject of a daysail with me; a night at anchor sounded much, much better. Within a few moments we were off the dock and underway. Yep, it was that quick and simple. Just untie the lines, raise the sails, and set our home free.

Getting off the Dock: A Recharge, a Refresher and a Water Commute to School

We have had our boat since December and have sailed her only once. Pretty pathetic, right? Thing is, >>>running a business<<< in the islands is a >>>heck of a lot of work<<< (even though the job comes with lots of perks!) and the months have been slipping past. With Scott managing >>>our company<<< and me managing our kids and home life, time flies by with zero effort and no lag. It's been go, go, go around here and we've had one heck of a busy high season with lots of fun stuff in the mix - but one thing we haven't been doing? Sailing.

That had to change...

10 Boat Features we Find Useful for the Baby on Board

Boating and babies go together better than you might imagine, however, there are a few concessions one must make in order for the transition to be a smooth one. The boat you choose is a big one. The vessel you select for your journey – it’s pedigree, age, performance and features – can and will hugely impact your experience and enjoyment. This rule applies whether or not you have kids on board. There are certain traits, however, that really seem to suit the “baby on board” moniker. After three kids and over four years of boating with babies and/or toddlers we have compiled a list of ten boat characteristics that make life afloat with little ones easier. If you are like me, anything that makes the already hard job of parenting less of a crazy train is worth noting, so take heed. These things might not be “essential” but will almost certainly impact the frustrating vs. fun factor. 

Plenty of cabins/bunks

We wish SO BADLY we had a third cabin, it’s insane. We will most certainly be upgrading to a new boat in the next couple years and you had better believe our next boat will have a third cabin. The twins currently share our v-berth, but Isla sleeps in a make shift bunk bed we made in our walk-thru. She loves it and it works great for her…now. It’s definitely got an expiration date as it’s smaller than a toddler bed and children have this uncanny ability to grow non-stop, not to mention the fact that her placement in the “main cabin” of our boat greatly inhibits our life after she goes to bed. We cannot cook, watch movies, or hang out in our salon once it’s ‘lights out’ for her. Not the biggest deal to befall a boater, but something to seriously consider when boat shopping.

Plenty of water tankage

We used to be really conservative about our water use aboard when we cruised as a couple. We carried 60 gallons and had a 5 gallon per hour water maker that we’d run for a few hours once a week. We were so good and ecological! Now? We’re all “Who built the Ark? Let’s fill up that baby pool on the aft deck so the kids will play quietly for twenty minutes!” Luckily, when we were actively cruising with our eldest, we foresaw the need (or desire?) for more water and outfitted our boat with a high-output Cruise RO water maker. We sang it praise almost every day. Babies are messy. REALLY Being able to hose them off after the beach, the pool, or after they smear pasta sauce and/or god knows what else all over their adorable pudgy bodies really makes life easier. Not to mention the ability to do laundry regularly. We regularly rinse our boat, our clothes, ourselves and our kids and – believe me – life is better because of it!

Ability to be singlehanded

This is a biggie for the baby boat because human babies are pretty damn dependent for the first couple years of life. We learned very quickly that once we had our first child, one person needed to be on boat duty, while the other was on baby duty. When sailing overnight, we both assumed watch schedules while Isla slept, but most of the time, mommy tended to all things baby, while daddy sailed the boat. Of course we both could do the other’s job (to a point, Scott couldn’t nurse the babies) but we found this arrangement worked well for us.

Center cockpit

There are those that love center cockpit boats, and those that don’t. We stand firmly and proudly in the first camp. A center cockpit is great for a ‘baby boat’ for so many reasons. For one, it provides a nice 360 degree buffer between the water and the child, which is always a nice bonus when it comes to a baby on a boat. It also allows for an aft cabin, which makes for a great en-suite master bedroom and a little separation from the front of the boat and kids. And finally the center cockpit layout provides an aft-deck which makes a great place to load and unload provisions, store beach gear an other miscellaneous effects, and makes for an ideal area to hose off and/or shower after a day at the beach.

Swim platform

This makes getting in and out of the dinghy with babies tremendously easier. Having a nice, secure step or platform between the boat and the dinghy is great for doing the (sometimes precarious) baby-to-boat handoff. And if you ever find yourself solo parenting as I do? The step is almost a necessity! We will never own a boat without one of these!

One level interior

Having an interior with as few “levels” as possible is nice because, trust me, your baby will fall down those naughty little steps all. the. time. before they figure out how to climb up or down them. Granted, this window of time is super short so if you have a few steps (and I’m not talking about the companionway steps) fear not…but if you have the choice, a boat with a level interior will guarantee you hear fewer blood curdling screams from a tot that just took a tumble, not to mention give a little more surface to practice crawling or walking. Don’t get me wrong, your boat baby will take a ton of tumbles regardless – but if you want less, find a boat with less steps.

Vinyl cushions

Never in a million years would I have outfitted a boat with white vinyl cushions, but holy heck am I glad webought a boat with them. I cannot even IMAGINE what our cushions would look like if they were regular interior fabric because the amount of food, sauce, paint, marker, crayon, pen, playdoh, juice and you don’t even want to know what else I have wiped off is INSANE. Three toddlers are messy. Period. Our cushions not only clean up like a breeze, but make me more laid back about messes (and making them! which, mind you, goes against my very tidy nature but is great for kids) because, “It’s cool, kids! Don’t sweat that spilled paint! Look, we just wipe it right up!” I mean, I wash our cushions using the same spray cleaner I use for the counters. It. is. awesome. Would not want a baby boat without them.

Extra storage

We are definitely not minimalists, but we do try to limit what we bring on board. Even still, three kids equal a ton of crap. From booster chairs to books, from crafting supplies to clothes, from beach toys to building blocks – you will need a good place to keep it all. The more storage, the better. And if you can be well organized about it, even better. Organization on a boat is like golf, never mastered and a constant work in progress.

Two heads

This is one of the bonuses of a center cockpit boat. And whether or not you *think* you need an extra head they are sure nice to have because – ***spoiler alert*** – heads break down and people sometimes have to go “potty” at the same time. Toddlers, fyi, aren’t always great at holding it either and men, well…men tend to take their time. We love having two heads aboard and with a family of five, we’ve sung our extra head praise more than once, let me tell you!

Aft deck shower

Salt water and sand do not belong in the boat. They are a major pain in the butt if they infiltrate the interior so your mission, should you chose to accept it – is to keep it out. The best way to do this, short of avoiding beaches and salt water all together (not advisable!) is to do a fresh water rinse immediately when you return to the boat. Note that this favorable feature combines line items #2 (water tankage) and #4 (center cockpit). Being able to rinse off completely before we ever set foot in our cockpit is wonderful and definitely keeps salt and sand at bay. We keep a little bin full of our wash soap and shampoo on the aft deck and usually rinse off at least once, sometimes two or three times a day depending on our excursions.

So there you have the ten features we have found hugely beneficial to a boat with babies on board. It obviously goes without saying that these are things that we have found helpful and you might very have a different experience. We’ve seen families with children cruising on the most luxurious of catamarans with every gadget under the sun and we’ve seen families of five living aboard a simple thirty-two footer with as few systems as possible. It’s also worth noting that the baby and toddler stages of life are quick and fleeting, so whether or not your boat truly suits the baby stage might not be that important for you. Many of these features, however, will be enjoyed well past babyhood so keep that in mind. Either way, making sure you find a boat that works well for you and your family is the most important thing, so chose wisely. Fair winds!

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY WRITTEN FOR ZIZOO BOATS.

"Aren't You Worried about Them Falling Overboard?" Real and Imagined Fears of Living Aboard with Three Toddlers

We live on a 44 foot sail boat with our three toddlers age four and under. Considering this living arrangement falls well outside the range of "normal" for most land-dwelling folks, we get a lot of questions. But no question do we field so much as: "Aren't you afraid of them falling overboard?!" While, yes, the fact that we are surrounded by water combined with the reality that not one of our three children can swim unaided yet falls in the "Big F***ing Deal" category, you might be surprised to learn that, no, we almost never worry about them falling off the boat.

(insert sound of record scratching)

Don't get me wrong, our kids going overboard is our greatest concern and, potentially, our worst nightmare. But "worry" about it? No. So...why? A few reasons, really: 1) They are constantly supervised by an adult when they are on deck, not to mention well contained by protective netting around our boat's perimeter and 2) the water is warm and clear here so if they did happen to fall in, particularly because they are always under close watch, one of us would be able to retrieve them in a matter of seconds. Would we worry about this more if we were living in the Arctic where you have only moments in the water before hypothermia sets in, or if we lived somewhere where water was brackish and murky? Probably. But here? Not so much. And finally, 3) our girls have grown up on and around boats. It's natural and normal to them. They know how to move and maneuver like little pros, and furthermore know the "rules" and don't climb the lifelines or venture to the 'off limits' area of our boat. We are very frank with our daughters and mince no words when it comes to their understanding of safety. We tell it like it is: "If you fall in the water, you will sink like a stone to the bottom of the ocean." Sure, that might sound a little harsh, but a healthy dose of fear has a very real place in this particular scenario. We don't worry about them falling overboard at anchor any more than we would worry about our boat suddenly springing a leak. Sure, it's possible. But it certainly doesn't keep us up at night.

Underway it's similar. Our girls are never more than four feet from a parent, usually in the cockpit with Scott and I, and always in their lifejackets. We are lucky to live in a cruising area where we don't see big seas or rough weather, and if weather is inclement you won't find us sailing. On nice days, I often venture on deck with the girls to have dance parties during a smooth passage and they love to be on in the open air, watching the water for dolphins and turtles and waving hello at other boats. While we still allow them a little freedom to explore, the rules are a more stringent underway because man overboard drills in even the most pleasant conditions can be challenging, particularly if you're retrieving a small child (if a child were to go in, I'd immediately jump in after her and Scott would bring the boat back, fyi). I have zero interest in ever experiencing this horror, so our #1 rule is to stay on the boat. Period. We don't climb the rigging. We don't run. If it's rough we do not leave the cockpit and no one is allowed on deck without a parent present. Our girls understand that they must maneuver carefully and use one hand for the boat and one hand for themselves while the boat is underway. If we move between the bow of the boat and the cockpit I usually walk with them while the other two are seated securely on deck holding on to hand rails. "Always hold on," I remind them sternly. "You must always be holding on to the boat when we are moving." And they do. We are cautious, calculated and careful, but worried about them going overboard? Not really.

So where do we get a little fearful? Where does worry come into play?

Three words: At the dock.

A dock gives off false security and makes many of us feel okay because - hey, it's a dock! It's stable and safe and people and boats are around! But, no. All it would take is for one child to get out of my view and run off (it doesn't take long, believe me) and the repercussions could be disastrous. Keeping tabs on three (very active and curious) children is not always easy. While the marina does provide some security in that we have a whole community of people who watch after our girls from afar and more than once I have had a friend help me capture a runaway child, it's more of a perk and not something I count on. I am cautious and constantly doing the 'head count' if they are walking free (I am not to the point of leashes yet, but holy crap I'm close!) There are serious hazards on docks; a child might trip over a hose, a cleat or a line and fall in unnoticed, might try to balance or climb up a piling and slip over. She might see something in the water and try to reach it and topple in. Or maybe try to board a boat and misjudge the step. Any of these situations could be compounded by a good knock on the head during a tumble, rendering her unconscious and in the water... I could go on and on with scenarios but the bottom line is: these are potentially life and death situations. These are things we don't mess around with. These are the thoughts that, if I let them, keep me awake at night.

Because of these very real dangers, we have a strict lifejacket rule when on the dock and unless our girls are attached to our person or in their stroller , they are (almost always) in life jackets when walking around. Because they are so used to the rule, they often put them on themselves and with little protest. It's normal and understood. Other marina rules? They are never allowed to get on or off a boat without adult help or supervision. If we want to look at something in the water, we lie on our bellies to do so (it's much harder to fall head first into the water from a laying position than from a kneeling one). When running we keep a healthy distance from the edge so a normal trip doesn't turn into a swim. These rules were drilled into my head like "please" and "thank you" when I was a cruising kid and I've passed them onto our children. With these few safety measures in place, we certainly feel better, but I'd be lying if I said there was zero worry. It's amplified because I am chasing around three kids, usually by myself, two of whom are twins with a penchant for running in opposite directions just to mess with me - so I am always on high alert. When they run around with their lifejackets on? I worry less. WAY less. In fact, I'm pretty laid back about their wanderings as long as I can see them and know they will float. "Oh, they're so close to the water!" someone will tell me with concern in their voice, "Aren't you afraid they'll fall in?" they ask. "If they do," I start, "They will float and they certainly won't do it again!" The onlookers don't typically share my cavalier attitude and laugh nervously as they pass. But my thinking is this: worst case scenario, one of my girls falls in and gets a good scare. I fish them out (no doubt in front of a large gasping audience whispering #momoftheyear), give them a cuddle and we carry on with our day after a good rinse and change of clothes. Of course I don't want this to happen, but I'm all about kids exploring and learning natural consequences as long as the consequences aren't dire. If my girls are wearing life jackets, my worry is almost nil. Almost.

***

We take the safety of our children very, very seriously and I'm doing risk analysis while watching my kids play a hundred times a day. Bad things can happen. Accidents happen. We know that. Risks are everywhere on both land and sea. We do not, however, let a fear of "what if" rule our life. If that was the attitude we maintained, we'd never have left on a sailboat in the first place. For the most part, we let our kids be kids and give them a long leash to explore their capabilities and the world around them. Our girls climb up our mast and hang out on the boom. They swing from trees with ropes. They scale walls, climb like monkeys and run with hopeless abandon. Sure, they have the bumps, scrapes and bruises to prove it, but it's pure fact that humans learn by doing and so - with some simple rules in place and supervision from afar - we let them do. Our parenting style is to teach rather than dissuade, to empower rather than frighten. We do this, in part, by managing our own worry. Our goal - like most parents - is to raise happy, independent, confident children who trust the power of their bodies and minds, and who have a healthy respect for - but are not afraid of - the world around them. So, sure, like every parent - we worry. We worry about a million things like their happiness, health and success in life...But we don't really worry about them falling off the boat.

Sailing; in lifejackets (always) and one hand for the boat, one hand for themselves.

Always on our bellies to look at the water (Thank you Cindy W. for this tip!!)

When we're dock walkin', we are wearing life jackets. (and going opposite ways)

Practicing climbing, problem-solving, and balance. 

Looking out over the water, our fender was on the deck but usually they are never leaning over life lines.

I rigged up a line from the mast to the bow and it provided a TON of entertainment.  

When sailing on a nice day, this is how you will usually find the girls and I. 

Expat Troubles and Immigration Woes: Time to Flee the Country!

"The kids' visa extensions were denied," Scott texted me while I was sitting at the beach, peacefully collecting shells with the girls. "We need to leave in twenty-four hours." "Shit" I replied. This is not the kind of text that one wants to receive when living as an expatriate on a small island. The word "denied" stung like a personal affront. Had they no heart!? Didn't they realize these were *toddlers* we were talking about?! My phone pinged again: "We'll have to stay for a few days. Should we ferry to St. Thomas or do you want to take the boat?" It took me exactly .02 seconds to respond with: "Sail." Staying in a single hotel room with three kids three and under for three days on a neighboring island, to some, might sound like a nice little vacation. To me? That sounds like the tenth circle of hell. But let me back up and explain...

Scott and I are legal residents of the British Virgin Islands (for a year anyway, we must file for renewal annually which - we are told - is not *too* painful of a process). Our girls, however, have been living here on tourist visas because we were awaiting the government's approval on their status as our "dependents". This small title change would allow them to be residents as well, but not until we got that coveted approval. The confirmation that they were accepted as "dependents" came through a couple of weeks ago at which point we were granted two weeks to take them out of the county, do some medical tests and return. I can’t really explain the reasoning behind the fact that we must leave the island to do these things that could easily be done here, but it’s the rule and if there is one thing you must know about life as an expat on a small island it is this: There is very precise protocol that must be followed when it comes to any governmental procedure (immigration/work permits/residency etc.) Not following these formalities *exactly*  and *perfectly* will project you into a Groundhog Day-like loop of red-tape madness, endless immigration lines, and mind-numbing levels of frustration. So we don't ask questions. We just do what we are told. Side Note: following government protocol "exactly and perfectly" is pretty much impossible since it changes with the wind, so the aforementioned is almost a guarantee. Be warned. 


When that two weeks was up and we still hadn't left the country to get our t's crossed and i's dotted by the powers that be (mainly because Scott works every. single. day.), Scott donned his Sunday best and headed to immigration to see if they would grant us an extension. Having government do you a "favor" down here is not unheard of, but something of a crap shoot. Or Russian roulette. Okay, maybe a small miracle; like witnessing a deer give birth to twins in your back yard or something. Not impossible, but not an everyday sort of occurrence. And this time was no different. We got a big, fat: DENIED and were given 24 hours to leave the territory. Hence: Operation Flee Country.

Point for living in a home that moves and for a US island a mere four hour sail away!

The logistics of packing up three small kids, sailing to a neighboring island, and coordinating a medical test might not sound like much, but given that we run a very busy business and covering Scott's duties as well as timing medical results so that he could return to work ASAP was...tricky. As far as what needed to happen while we were gone, the twins needed simply to leave and come back, but Isla needed a medical exam to ensure she wasn't bringing diseases (typically reserved for 18th century prostitutes) into the territory. The tests were simple enough, but results would take a few days and we weren't allowed back in without them. In a desperate pinch, Scott found trusted people to fill in for him while we were away, and we were told we'd have the results we needed by Friday so he could return to work Sunday morning. The successful completion of this sequence of events was far from impossible, but certainly aggressive. Given that Murphy's Law prevails down here, combined with the "island time" phenomenon, meant the possibility of hiccups was high. The fact that we were traveling with three small children did nothing to ease the situation. Kids - while wonderful, mind-blowing and cute - complicate things.


We, along with our friends the Sunkissed Soeters, decided to leave at 4:30am with the hopes of arriving in daylight when our kids would be waking up. From there we would go ashore, clear in with customs (as one must do when they move from country to country), head to the various medical clinics we needed to visit (there were two), and call it a day. Sounds simple enough, right?


Except that when we started our engine at 4:30am, Haven woke up in a panic of epic proportions which, in turn, woke up Isla and Mira. I helped Scott get us off the dock and went below to try, unsuccessfully, to calm them all back to sleep. Have you ever tried to calm two wailing babies by yourself? It's difficult at best. Isla tried to help, but her presence only excited them. They would have none of it and were much more interested in a cuddle fest in the aft cabin. It was going to be a long day.


We arrived in Red Hook as the sun was coming up and our kids were coming unglued. Scott and I were positively exhausted, but time was of the essence and we needed to get to "Doctors on Duty" ASAP. We dinghied ashore with the Soeters, grabbed some breakfast and some desperately-needed coffee, and after unsuccessfully trying to rent a car for nearly an hour, decided to cut our losses and hop in a taxi. One thing that is a huge pain in the butt for cruisers with small children traveling to the United States Virgin Islands is that everyone aboard must be present to clear in (as opposed to just the captain) which means we ALL had to go ashore (Note for those 'in the know': yes, we are members of the SVRS but we forgot to file a float plan. Won't forget that again!) This was going to not only be a day that began at 4:30am for our normal 7am-ers, but one in which they skipped their coveted two-plus hour midday naps. Oh joy! Wigged-out, poorly-rested, two year old twins are NOT for the faint of heart, I tell you. I prepared for battle with an impressive arsenal of toys, snacks aplenty and took a double dose of patience.

By the time we had cleared in, visited the two medical clinics we needed to visit, and return to Red Hook, it was 5pm. Over *twelve* hours after our day began. That is a lot to ask of little children! While there were some definite meltdowns, lots of deep breathing on my part and a couple of moments where I had to extricate the twins from situations due to toddler anarchy, I was - overall - so pleased with how our kids held up. The twins sat in our (amazing, life-saving) tandem umbrella stroller most of the day, and that is no fun for very active two year olds. Isla was a gem, with her only real low point being the fit she threw when a nurse came at her with a needle to give her the test shot for tuberculosis. All in all, the day was a success, albeit incredibly long. To celebrate, Scott and I took the girls to an early dinner at Molly Malones in Red Hook where they continued to run around like giggling heathens and mommy and daddy enjoyed some (well deserved) rum drinks. We ended up back to the boat around 6pm, showered everyone up on the aft deck and the girls and I were fast asleep by 7:30.


With the "business end" of our trip over, we could finally relax, get our darlings back on their normal sleep schedules and simply enjoy being on the water, at anchor (which is bliss, by the way). What had initially begun as a very hectic, stressful and forced trip turned out to be a nice little vacation where we were able to enjoy dinners out with friends new and old, meet up (and party a little too hard) with fellow cruisers who are like kindred spirits, and enjoy the vast bounty of American products and services that St. Thomas has to offer (it felt very much like Florida to us; there's McDonalds, K-Mart, Home Depot, Walgreens, Subway, surf shops galore and even a Cost-u-Less, which is a Costco equivalent!) It was like being in the land of plenty compared to where we live in the British Virgin Islands. We took advantage of the plentitude and, truth be told, it was nice.


The mission was a success, and while we thoroughly enjoyed the time away and the mini-vacation, it was a welcome treat to sail back to our adopted little island of Tortola where the roosters wake us up, where there's not a big box store or chain restaurant in site, and where our girls will finally, hopefully, no longer be tourists.

At least for a year.

Almost  in Red Hook and ready to set the anchor. Tired kiddos.

This child is a gem to travel with. Three years old and fully adaptable and ready for adventure!

Very, very tired daddy.

Sunrise from our boat, anchored in Red Hook, St. Thomas USVI

Customs

This is what two families and five kids look like in a customs office. This is where the twins were falling apart.

They have *NEVER* napped in a stroller. Mainly because they never have to, but this time - they did! I would be lost without this stroller!

Dinner time shenanigans. We eat out very early when no one else is around so our girls can run around and be kids.

"Thank God I have a job I can do from anywhere!" Minus the captain part, of course. Here's Scott taking MORE bookings.

Dinghying back home after a very, VERY long day. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

Bright-eyed and bushy tailed the next morning. Isla loves waving to passing boats. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

My little sweat pea, Mira. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

This was our neighbor. 7am, pipe in mouth, reclined and reading a paperback as the sun warmed up. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

I honestly love that our home is the best jungle gym our kids could ever want. They love nothing more than being on deck.

Mira, mastering a new move. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

This child is part monkey, I tell you! Super coordinated and strong.Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

Putting our dingy in the water with daddy. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

Lowering the dingy in the water. A little lesson in physics. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

Absolutely LOVE our Sailor Bags Back Pack and our Turkish Bath Towels. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

Pippy Longstocking looking on. Red Hook, St. Thomas, USVI

When we got our test results, we decided to sail over to St. John for a change and to break up the upwind sail home.

Sailing for 2-3 hours with these girls these days is a pleasure. We sit on deck and talk, sing songs, and watch the ocean.

Sunset in St. John. It was an early night for all of us. Still catching up on sleep! Maho Bay, St. John, USVI

Mommy made pancakes and sausage the next morning. We love to eat in the cockpit with the breeze in our hair! Maho Bay, St. John, USVI

Seriously, if I loved our three girls any more I might explode. For real. It's impossible to love any more. Maho Bay, St. John, USVI

I rigged up a new line from the bow to the mast for the girls to swing on. It was a big hit. Maho Bay, St. John, USVI

We set sail for Tortola after breakfast. Sir Francis Drake Channel, BVI

This child. Sigh. She is a force. A delightful and joyful one though! Sir Francis Drake Channel, BVI

My little mermaids. Adore them. Sir Francis Drake Channel, BVI

Mira and daddy, enjoying the sail home. Sir Francis Drake Channel, BVI

Home, sweet home. Back at our beloved home port of Nanny Cay, Tortola BVI.