Found this in an "unposted" folder. Always good to hear and heed one's own advice.

On Dirt and Love (August 19, 2011)

I am at home with dirt. I was never much of a housekeeper—though I had aspirations at the beginning. After three babies in three years, I pretty much gave up. I still make a half-hearted attempt each week to have a “cleaning day” when we team up to vacuum, dust, mop, hose down the cockpit, and wash windows, but the deep cleaning doesn’t really happen unless we have some sort of major spill that requires us lifting floorboards or emptying shelves.

“Clean” doesn’t really last, either. Maybe ten minutes. We usually finish the chores and then go for a swim. That way, I get the mess-makers off the boat and I can have a “clean” home for a few minutes. The minute we return, the mess returns as well. I try not to spend a lot of time or energy nagging, but I admit that it’s hard to balance training small people to clean up after themselves and being sensitive to how it might feel to be corrected constantly. Occasionally, I admit, I wish I could have a clean and orderly environment, and I look accusingly at my mess-makers.

I usually catch myself in these discontented thoughts and remember how awful it would be not to have them around. Sure, I’d have all the time in the world to keep my home environment spotless. But without someone coming around after I sweep to dump sand out of his pockets, the boat would simply stay clean and I’d be bored senseless. What I’ve come to realize is that dirt and love are inextricably connected. The very existence of small fingerprints, sticky spots on the table, glitter on the floor and crumbs on the cushions indicates that this home is full of love. Without all the evidence, one might miss that there are five happy, rambunctious people around here, living and working and playing and doing what kids do best: un-self-consciously making messes. Someday there will be no missing puzzle pieces to discover between the settee cushions, no more stray pencil marks, no Cheerios under the table. And then what? I hate to even think about it.

We have a saying around here: many hands make light work. Because we are all in it together, every day, we make the messes together and then we clean them up together. Perfection is a myth which leads to misery. Next time I feel like nagging, I will repeat this mantra: dirt equals love, dirt equals love, dirt equals love…

I took Rachel to the orthopedic surgeon last Monday to have some new x-rays taken of her leg to see how it was healing. We had been praying that the bone would be healed enough so that the harness would be unnecessary. Sleep deprivation was becoming an issue (not so much for Rachel, but for me). The good news? It's all good news! She grew as much bone in two weeks as it would take me six to eight weeks to grow. The doc declared her well; the injury will not cause problems for growing or walking, much to my relief. That night she slept on her tummy again and gave me a six-hour stretch and I awoke feeling human again. Each of the kids has tried a short-cut to heaven, but fortunately for me, none have been successful.

Every year I take a moment to list the things for which I’m thankful. This year it is family—the new member of our little sailing crew, the proximity of blood relations, and our extended “family” here at the marina.

First, I never could have guessed how Rachel would forever change our family chemistry. This time last year, we were cruising in the Bahamas, I was pregnant, and not 100% happy about it.  There was definitely some trepidation and discomfort, not to mention that I couldn’t find a maternity wetsuit and I was cold when snorkeling! But this year, to see the way the other kids have responded to adding a new sibling, I no longer wonder why God chose to answer Sarah’s prayers for Rachel. The two big boys have become even more responsible and helpful, and Sam and Sarah have blossomed as entertainer and caretaker, respectively. Rachel herself is a little bit of sunshine that makes everyone smile.

Walking around with five children in tow causes quite a stir. Everyone, and I mean everyone, I meet says, “I don’t know how you do it.” I have a repertoire of responses, usually deflecting admiration (nothing worse than falling off of a pedestal), and I give a lot of credit to the help that has come my way this year. So, how does one survive on a boat with five children, operate a homeschool and manage a household with a husband who travels during the week? Without the kindness of those people who have been placed in our lives at just the right time, who have become an extended family for us, it would not be possible.

Once or twice a week, friends from the marina take the kids for a couple of hours to play a video game or watch TV (since they’re deprived at home) and give me a little break. Sometimes we go on long walks with another friend which are great for exercise and free therapy. There are others who come by once a week to give me moral and practical support, help out with the kids, fold laundry, or do some baby-sitting so I can get off the boat. Sometimes we meet a friend for dinner at the little Italian place on Main Street, and sometimes delicious food just sort of turns up right around dinner time.  When Jay’s gone, there are guys around at just the right moment to help with any heavy lifting or other “blue” jobs. And for all those that have helped, a dozen more have offered. I think it’s appropriate that we’ll be at the marina pot-luck for Thanksgiving this year, celebrating with this extended “family.”

Last, but not least, I am so thankful that our relatives are nearby. While there isn’t anyone close enough to help out in a daily way, I have often had visitors or made an escape of a day or two to the north or south and spent time with moms, dads, brothers and sisters and given the kids that precious gift of getting to know their grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. It’s the thing we miss most when we are traveling, and although part of me wishes we were out there instead of here at the dock, the other part of me is thankful that we are only an hour or two from both families.

To all of you who have helped us this year (you know who you are)—I offer my heartfelt gratitude and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving!

It has everything a good movie should: a kid with an obstacle to overcome, family values, a positive portrayal of home-schooling, a guy who grew up on a sailboat, a marine mammal who survives against all odds, a still-hot Harry Connick, Jr., and a happy ending— all based on a true story! Very rarely do we take our kids to see a movie, but our recent outing to the theater to see Dolphin Tale made me glad we made an exception.

I thought for sure they would ruin the “true” in “based on a true story” and that it could be nothing but cheesy, but I was wrong. From un-pretentious scenes filmed at the actual Clearwater Marine Aquarium to a focus on friendship and family, this movie was warm and genuine. It was heart-rending at times, and funny at times. In short, it is worth going out to see. Better yet, go to Clearwater and see the dolphin with the prosthetic tail and be inspired first-hand.

We first met Winter, the dolphin who stars as herself in the movie, at the Clearwater Marine Aquarium about seven years ago. We were frequent visitors to the humble facility. Once, when Eli was visiting with his grandmother, he leaned a little too far over the sting-ray touch tank and accidentally fell in. He came home wearing a “Winter” shirt. We were visiting one day when a team of scientists were studying the latest iteration of their prosthesis. Dr. Somebody-or-Other patiently explained the process to our children and answered their questions .(I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Morgan Freeman.) It was so gratifying to see the end result of the hard work of those scientists, staff, and volunteers on the big screen! And the Clearwater Marine Aquarium will finally have the attention—and hopefully the funds—of movie-goers everywhere who want a first-hand experience with Winter the dolphin.  More information available at www.seewinter.com.

One of the challenges facing cruisers in exotic locations is finding fresh (and familiar) ingredients. In the Bahamas, for example, I often had a hard time locating things as simple as butter, eggs, and milk. If we showed up at an island grocery a day or two after the mail boat had come in, the fresh supplies were gone and we had to do with whatever was left. I learned how to get creative with what we carry in our canned and dry goods locker—dried milk, canned fruit, coconut oil, and whole grains replaced store-bought staples. If there were no eggs and milk, it meant biscuits for Sunday morning breakfast instead of pancakes.

But what about special treats? Specialty items like chocolate chips don’t do well in hot environments, and since I don’t make things from boxes and bags, “cake mix” isn’t in my vocabulary (and even if it were, it often requires eggs). If we’re low on fresh supplies, making something like a birthday cake would be difficult if not impossible. My favorite cake recipe calls for a cup of butter, buttermilk and three eggs—that’s pretty steep if you’re far from civilization!

Today, we discovered the solution in a cookbook I’ve had on the shelf forever. The Gold Medal Flour Alphabakery Children’s Cookbook (©1997 General Mills) is a fun cookbook that I have used with all my children—it goes through the alphabet A-Z with easy and tasty treats. They love to pull it out for their “special night” baking projects and we work together to make something good for everyone to share. (Each kid gets a special night once a month when they get to choose recipes for dinner and dessert and help cook, then choose an activity to do with Mom and Dad after everyone else has gone to bed—it’s a way to work in one-on-one time in a big family.)

For her special dessert, Sarah picked a chocolate cake that, amazingly, left out milk, butter, and eggs, substituting instead vegetable oil (I use coconut oil), water, vinegar and baking soda. The results were surprising: a moist and chocolaty treat with no hint that the recipe looked more like salad dressing than cake. All the ingredients are easy to store and always on hand. This recipe success means I can whip up a from-scratch cake, anywhere, anytime and miles and miles from a grocery store. Below is the recipe if you’d like to give it a whirl.

Xx is for “X-tra Special” Celebration Cake

3 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups water
Frosting (home-made or store-bought)
Candies or icing for decorating

1. Heat oven to 350°. Grease and flour 2 round 9” pans or 9 x 13” baking dish.
2. Mix flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda and salt in a large bowl.
3. Mix oil, vinegar, vanilla and water in a small bowl. Stir oil mixture into flour mixture and beat until well blended, about one minute. Immediately pour batter into pans, dividing evenly.
4. Bake until wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean, about 35 minutes; let cool 10 minutes before removing from pans.
5. Let cake cool completely. Fill and frost cake; decorate with candies or icing as desired.

One of our favorite films for family movie night is Astronaut Farmer. It stars Billy-Bob Thornton as a middle-aged wanna-be astronaut who left NASA and settled for running his father’s farm instead of fulfilling a lifelong dream of going into space. He hasn’t given up on the dream, though, and all hell breaks loose when he tries to buy rocket fuel for a spacecraft he built in his barn. We love the movie because it is about a family with a dream—the grandfather applauds the main character, saying, “Most families don’t even eat dinner together—you’ve got yours dreaming together.” His wife, Audi, stays by him through thick and thin—even supporting his pulling the kids out of school for a month to join his “space program”— at one point when he wants to give up she reminds him that without the rocket they are just an ordinary dysfunctional family.

We get email from all sorts of people—those with boats and without, those who home-school or home-stead and those who live “conventional” lives. Our sharing our adventures, while nautical in nature, isn’t really about going sailing, but about following a dream. We never would say, “you should buy a boat and do what we’re doing” or “everyone should homeschool their kids,” but we might say, “everyone should follow after a dream.” It doesn’t really matter what flavor the dream takes on, as long as you are really living your life and making all the small decisions that are necessary to move toward a goal, so that when opportunity knocks, you’re ready to answer “Yes!”

We are not, by a long-shot, the only family with young children who want to sail off into the blue, but we are in a relatively small group of people with that dream. For some, that dream seems crazy, but we have discovered in our group of friends that there are lots of other kinds of crazy. For example, a good friend of mine and her husband swerved off a lucrative career path to help run an orphanage in Honduras. They are on the cutting edge of widow and orphan care—pursuing something they are really passionate about, and making all the sacrifices that come along with being involved in philanthropy. (You can find them at www.providenceworldministries.org).

Another friend (www.mrshomeschool.com/blog ) who left recently to go live in Costa Rica with her husband and children, runs a web-based business and wanted to travel with her children. I know their families did not understand how they could just up-and-go, but they wanted to give their home-schooled children a real-world education with experiences outside their own culture.

My brother and his wife (www.brikcrate.com) have a small working farm just outside city limits, complete with goats, chickens, gardening and a wood shop. They run two businesses and have six children that they home-school. They are trying their hand at home-steading—a dream that seems less and less crazy as times and financial markets provide less stability.

Last year in the keys, we met a family with ten children, some of whom formed a band and went on tour—they play gigs like Sloppy Joe’s in Key West and are spectacularly talented and loads of fun to listen to (www.thedoerfels.com). What on earth led them to live on the road for part of the year is beyond me, but what do I know? I live on a boat with five kids.

We have good friends who are missionaries in Thailand and just moved to downtown Bangkok, others who manage state parks whose children have grown up in beautiful natural settings and have been schooled in the great outdoors, and still others who participate in civil war battle re-enactments and become a part of living history. What these families all have in common, besides Big Dreams, and, strangely, having lots of kids, is the willingness to take the necessary risks associated with leaving the common life. There is no financial security in dream-chasing. Some have traded retirement later for an adventure now. They don’t care what other people say—they can’t let someone else’s expectations keep them from pursuing an exciting and meaningful life. So, whatever kind of thing floats your boat—we encourage you to find it and chase after it. Do it or die trying because it’s worth it. Life is good, but it is fleeting and fragile.

My oldest son took me sailing today, for a change. For the last ten years, I have taken him traipsing everywhere I went—museums, parks, stores, libraries, beaches, marinas, laundromats, zoos—you name it.  His brother, a mere thirteen months younger, was not far behind.

But today, for the first time, he took me. He didn’t’ take me far—just a quick trip away from the beach and back in a small sailboat, but it was a turning point in our relationship just the same. I am excited about the way our relationship is changing, even when we experience growing pains like sarcasm or stubbornness. He has the subtle wit of his father, and the poetic sensibility of his mother. Our interactions are reaching new levels and we are beginning to glimpse what he will be like as an adult. He will be a full-fledged crew member in just a few short years. I am very proud of him.

Aaron, too, is showing signs of growing independence. Today marked the last day of summer sailing camp, and family members were invited to come along as passengers with a junior sailor. I had the pleasure of watching Aaron show Sam the ropes as he competently took him out on the water in a pram for the first time.

Sailing camp was a success on many fronts. We are happy that the boys and Sarah had the opportunity to learn basic sailing skills in beginning and intermediate classes. Their understanding of wind and sail will be intuitive—something I envy. Additionally, they are building confidence and a love of the water, something that will make them even better crew for Take Two.

I’m getting antsy. Having become accustomed to freedom and constant change, I’m feeling a bit stagnant in this marina slip. I’m no longer afraid of getting sucked into a land life and not leaving. Now I’m positive I will want to go out there again when the time is right. Heck, I want to go right now.

There are some impediments to our heading out into the great blue yonder at this very moment, though, so, as usual, I need to cool my jets and practice patience. Aside from a few minor things, there’s nothing keeping us from day trips or even an over-nighter. The weather in August in Florida is not very conducive to sailing away. Heat and hurricanes aside, there just isn’t that much wind on the Florida gulf-coast when the water temperature and air temperature are so close. It’s great weather for anchoring and swimming, though, so I’m looking forward to that.

As for a date of departure, that may be awhile. We have checked a few substantial things off the list we made at the beginning of the year: have a baby (check), repair structural damage to boat (check), pay exorbitant tax bill (check), renovate interior of boat (check), buy washer/dryer (check). So now Jay’s out with his nose to the grindstone, working to replenish the cruising kitty. When the time comes, we’ll have to decide whether to use that money to do a few more things on our list or to travel and put the projects on the back burner. It’s hard to stop when you’ve got momentum and the boat is looking so good—and when you find local workmen who are skilled and dependable.

On the flip side, many things that we want to change we have learned to live with, and we could manage another season without fixing them. If it comes down to buying a heater so we can survive a Florida winter or using the money to head South, I will vote for the latter.

One thing affecting a DOD is Jay’s work. One must make hay while the sun shines and that may mean working for six months or a year so that we can save up to travel again. Another question that has an impact on our plans is when will we be ready to travel with Rachel? If I’m trying to nurse a baby, homeschool the kids, wash diapers, feed everyone, and keep house, what kind of a first mate am I going to be? Do we need to take on crew? If the answer is yes to crew, then we’re back to the projects question because we’d need to make a habitable space for an extra person.

The answers to the questions “when/where are we going next?” are veiled in mystery, and until we have done the day-in-day-out for a while, we aren’t going to know. That means my planning and implementing our next year of homeschool and taking care of things on the home-front without complaining. But I miss the blue water, the unimpeded sunset, and the clear starry skies at night.  I feel the lines chafing and I just can’t wait to see what the next journey will be like.

I have always had a love affair with hammocks. Something about the easy way that they hang invites one to really relax. My parents always had one strung between two trees in the yard or two posts on our back porch—I even slept outside one night, imagining what sailors of old felt like swinging in the dark below-decks. I have happy memories of a certain hammock strung between palm trees in the Florida Keys from a girlhood vacation. Then there was the hammock that hung from Georgia pine trees in the backyard of our first house—I sat with my babies in that hammock and spent many happy hours snuggling and snoozing. So it was with nostalgia and admiration that I sat this past winter in the Bahamas in a hammock chair swinging from a Casuarina tree on Volleyball Beach on Stocking Island. It was a beautiful hammock with a beautiful view.

One day as I sat there chatting with some young folks who had pulled up in their dinghy, I learned that the maker of the hammock was a young woman named Snow, and that she was staying on a sailboat in the anchorage. Later I met Snow and complimented her handiwork. She has a company called The Sailor’s Bed and works in a coastal North Carolina town making and selling her hammocks. It was perfectly logical, then, to order one of her hand-made hammocks to string between the supports of our arch and “hang out” in the breeze above the water.

The hammock is everything I had hoped for—a relaxing place to sip a glass of wine while the sun sets, or to read and rest on a weekend morning. It is like a little oasis in the middle of the very busy, very noisy household of which I am a part, a one-hour vacation getaway. The joy I get from that hammock is augmented by the fact that I met the weaver—that she, like me, loves sand and sun and water and boats. Like everything else about our lifestyle, so much of what we enjoy has to do with the who and not just the what.

While I am certainly grateful to the dads in our family for raising Jay and me to be independent, contributing members of society, I would like to use this time to say what a great dad Jay has become to our children. We've been doing this parenting thing for about ten years now, and both of us have grown a lot during that time. Jay has always been the gentler of the two of us, and it is one of my secret joys to see him with a baby. He prefers spending time with the talking and walking kids, and with those he is wonderful, too. Aaron summed up how they feel about him this week while their dad was working in Boston: "I look up to Dad, and it's not just because he's tall." I guess that's how I feel, too–Happy father's Day, Jay, and keep up the good work.