We sailed close to the wind, hit rough waters, turned a corner and stayed the course! It may be possible to write an entire post in nautical lingo without even scraping the barrel. But I’ll stem the tide.
It was an amazing trip! RB saved her blowout, make-me-want-to-look-for-a-ferry meltdown for the last day, a few hours sail from our car.
BB and I get seasick, but it hasn’t stopped either one of us yet. Last year BB sprayed the side of the boat blue when her frozen slushy resurfaced.
I came prepared with plenty of vomit bags and after the first two days I was worried I hadn’t packed enough.
With a storm headed our way, we left Newport and sailed straight past our original destination. We headed to the second night’s harbor, hoping for a good place to weather the storm.
BB and I took turns throwing up and RB took a massive four hour nap. The first sign that maybe it wasn’t a mistake to take her along.
We had a lovely dinner on land and went to sleep on the boat very happy. We woke up on our mooring rocking and rolling. The storm had arrived and rain was pouring down. I went up on deck, stood there with BB while we stayed somewhat dry, and threw up in our bags.
RB was in iPad heaven and never showed a single sign of being bothered by the motion.
The options for the day seemed to be: get on the launch boat in the pouring rain and get to land or stay on the boat and continue to vomit.
We got on land, got coffee and got a more peaceful mooring. Dinner was in a boat house. The kids were free to run laps. Captain was concerned about the anchors and other random sharp objects they might run into. I was concerned about having them at our dinner table.
The next day we set sail for Shelter Island and from there on in we had seven days of sun and smooth sailing. Every beautiful sunset, fun activity, good meal, made me very glad RB and I took our chances. And that my in-laws took a chance on us!
RB is now a restaurant going pro. At one point the server had barely introduced themselves and she was shouting,
“Lemonade!”
She might’ve just as well yelled “make it a double!”
At another we had just arrived at, I saw the server bend his head toward her, but I couldn’t hear what RB said. The server continued to welcome us to the restaurant. I asked him,
“What did she say to you?”
“She ordered buttered pasta.”
Perfect. Really the only thing different about each restaurant’s kids menu was the order of menu items: Hot dog, chicken fingers, pasta or maybe chicken fingers, pasta, hot dog.
At night I slept with RB in the V berth and Captain and BB took the center berth. It was very comfortable and snuggly, especially compared to the narrow bunk I had when I worked on a boat.
The boat is like one giant SNOO and RB and I fell asleep quickly. At home I sleep with no children and I don’t usually hear from either kid all night.
Several nights in on the boat RB woke up at 2am screaming,
“My blanket! Straighten my blanket!”
Normally I wouldn’t comply with a 3-year-old shouting orders at me, but bleary with sleep I’d do just about anything to make her stop. I smoothed the blanket.
3am. Screaming again about the blanket. I smoothed it.
4am. Screaming. Blanket. I took it away.
No blanket is worth this torture.
Captain got himself a 12-foot paddle board for his upcoming birthday and strapped it to the boat. The plan was to paddle around the harbors in the evening. As we pulled into Shelter Island, the sea was glassy, the views lovely and then we looked into the water. Jellyfish EVERYWHERE.
That was NOT going to be the spot of my first paddle boarding attempt.
Two days later, in Three Mile Harbor, Captain made it look easy. Then he took BB out on it too and made it look even easier. Then I tried it, thinking I was going to make a massive fool of myself. I wanted to do it away from an audience of my closest beach friends.
It was much easier than I thought! I didn’t add any kiddos to my board and I can’t imagine why I would do that.
RB said no at first, but soon changed her mind. She said,
“I want to do it! I’m getting to be 6 you know.”
She’s 3.5.
One morning our engine wouldn’t start. At work Captain has a report who often remarks,
“We’re dead in the water.”
As Captain and his dad worked on the engine, I lounged nearby sipping my ice coffee. I couldn’t help myself, but inform Captain,
“We’re dead in the water!”
Last stop was Block Island. That harbor is a scene. There’s a coffee boat. It’s like an ice cream truck but a boat, and for coffee, donuts and breakfast sandwiches. I regret not getting a picture. I was too busy drooling over my first hot coffee in days.
As we were going to bed we checked the weather: 50% chance of thunderstorms in a few hours. That would’ve been a great time to close the giant hatch over my and RB’s bed. I did not.
I thought to myself: ‘It’s hot, if I close it, it will be stuffy. I’ll leave it open and if/when I hear rain I’ll close it.’ I pulled the shade closed and passed out.
I awoke to the sound of a torrential downpour on the shade over my head. I couldn’t feel the deluge yet, but it was only a matter of time.
The only thing to do was open the shade, remove the screen and close the hatch over our bed. But that would also mean water pouring out EVERYWHERE.
I sat in bed paralyzed for what felt like an eternity. The water still accumulating in the shade. Captain dashed out of his bed, whipped the shade back, and water poured EVERYWHERE.
I started sobbing. Captain says, and I don’t really remember this, that I just kept saying,
“This is bad. This is bad. This is really bad.”
And it was. The waterfall hit RB mid snore and she came to screaming. Her hair was dripping. Her jammies were soaked. My pillow was soaked, our bedding was soaked, my blankety was damp.
Of all the things I thought to move to higher ground, Blankety was my priority. My child might’ve been a better choice.
Several years ago, while eating a nice COVID dinner outside with a dear friend, a thunder storm swept down upon us. She noted that I rushed the wine inside first, then came back for baby RB sitting outside in her highchair. If those chairs are going to be that high, they should be grounded.
So as I cried on the boat, envisioning no sleep for the rest of the night, a sopping wet RB curled up and resumed snoring.
I put down as many dry towels as I had. I put on dry jammies and set aside a dry shirt for RB. Then miraculously I also went back to sleep. RB woke up a few hours later, I changed her shirt and she went right back to sleep. We both slept straight through until 7am.
RB woke up, looked down at her random, dry shirt and said,
“What’s this? Why am I wearing this?”
It’s a long story.
LESSON LEARNED. If there’s even the most minuscule, chance of rain. I will NEVER leave a hatch open again. Or else I’ll choose a different bed.
Captain offered to switch beds with me. But sleeping with BB means accepting that at some point in the night her feet will be on my pillow and the risk of injury is high.
We finished the sailing trip off strong with a dinner out in matching shirts. I LOVE matching. RB adores matching BB. Other people have mixed feelings about it, so it felt extra special.
All was well until the final sail home. BB and my father-in-law were wearing another set of matching shirts and RB didn’t have one. That and no nap several days in a row was reason enough for RB to lose her mind. After an eternity of screaming, she demanded to be left alone and slept for the rest of the trip.
Now we know the ropes. Sign us up for next year!
Good Times with Jess 