rudderless

Month Twenty-Two

Dear Roo,

Twenty-two! Almost two! We get asked so many times how old our girls are that both of us have started saying “Two and four,” just to get closer to the point, faster. And two you are. I loved two the first time. I think I will love it again. All of the whimsy and greatness of toddlerdom. With a healthy dose of stubborn and perhaps a bit of obstinance, even if just for play. These days you often refuse a request, just to have a conversation. “Let’s put on your undies.” “No, I don wannu, I reading with Daddy and Sophie.” “Whatcha reading?” “Wion King!” Undies will follow. You just had something to say first.

Yesterday you helped mix up your first batch of Play-dough. Your first solo stirring experience, for at least five minutes until Sophie arrived on the scene. I sometimes forget that you need to be the number one participant in these adventures, just as Sophie was when she was nearly two. You were completely engrossed with the results for hours and then today I caught you making playdough “wife jackets” for your animals who were “sailing on boat.” Oh precious girl, how fast you grow.

Sophie sang a little song to you today, about how soon it will be your birthday and you will “talk better and have more hair.” True enough, littlest girl. You lie in my arms nearly every day and say, “I a big girl? No, I a baby. I a big girl?” I assure you that you can be my biggest littlest girl for as long as you want to be. Like I said in a letter to Sophie when she was growing faster than lightning, I will never wish that you were smaller, because each stage is better than the last. At each turn of the road I get more and more of who you are, and glimpses of who you’ll be. My feisty beast who can’t be contained in a restaurant booth. Your sing-song voice going every minute you’re not asleep. Rosy, terrified of the smallest bugs, but not of hanging from monkey bars at the park. So big and so little. So perfectly you.

Happy twenty-two, Roo. I sure do love you.
xo,
Mama

Traveling

A few observations about our trip to Atlanta:
- I took my first flight, alone, with two awake children, and we all survived! That’s something I’ve been looking forward to for almost two years (and I can’t remember a flight pre-Rosy that Sophie was awake for the entire time). We didn’t even employ electronic entertainment. There was coloring, snacking, stirring of ice cubes, lots of “another PLANE!!!” at high volume as we taxied through airports (sorry, fellow passengers, but I’ll take it anyday over crying babies). I should do the math, but Sophie has flown more miles in 4 years than most adults have in their lifetimes. She’s awesome.

-As your kids get older, the travel challenges don’t go away, they just become different. On our way home, we stopped in the airport and got lunch, then set up a picnic by the departing gate. As soon as we’d sat down and started eating, Rosy says, “I gotta go pee!” On the plane, we’d just been served our pretzels and drinks- all three balanced on Sophie’s fold down tray. Rosy’s asleep. What do you think happens? Yep. “Mommy, I need to use the bathroom.” I joke with John that I spend an inordinate amount of time in public restrooms. On the plane, we were jammed so tightly that I had to hold Sophie in my arms while Rosy went. Ridiculous. Somehow they always manage to save the most involved bathroom trips for the grossest public places. Park bathrooms in Key West where there are signs like, “No washing clothes in sinks.” Random IHOP and Circle K locations (gross gross gross). The words, “I’m all done” will forever be etched in my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I am enormously appreciative of my two potty-trained kids. But wow, the fun never stops, eh?

-This was the first trip home I’ve ever taken that didn’t involve seeing my grandparents. Our time felt different- unstructured somehow, the days felt longer. I couldn’t my finger on what was different until I thought on it for a few days. That’s what was missing. The trips to Columbus, the daily rendezvous with my grandmother in Atlanta. More time and fewer people. It was truly a milestone. I took the girls to see their grandparents. They didn’t take me to see mine.

And so we are back in our floating home, slowly making our way through the to-do list before we can shove off to less-summerly ports. Boy is it hot here already.

Treasures

I imagine that all grandchildren have found themselves peeking into boxes on bookshelves, pulling drawers out of old dressers, looking for treasure at their grandparents house. I remember an overflowing box of Mardi Gras beads, an enormous vat of corks and swizzle sticks, scrabble tiles, rubber bands, and mountains of old photos. These days the treasures from my grandparents have been compressed into a spare bedroom at my parent’s houe. But the boxes are still there. I found this letter last night.

At Sea, North Pacific Ocean
9 November 1945

Dearest Edith,

I’ve been thinking these past few days that it didn’t seem quite proper to conclude this chapter of our life without one last letter to act as the period, or the “Finis,” as they used to put at the end of old time movies. The Landrums Jr. have won a war and had a baby in this chapter, so I don’t think anything can stop us from here on out. Do you?

My grandfather served on a minesweeper during World War II. He survived a typhoon and visited Japan after the surrender. It was the great adventure in his life. He had married my grandmother two weeks before Pearl Harbor, and now was returning from the South Pacific.

We are about halfway across and the lives of the 2,300 men aboard have settled into the routine of eating and sleeping, with a little time out for gossip and tending to one’s personal needs. We cross the 18oth meridian tonight so tomorrow will be the 9th also. It is quite cold, for the great circle course takes you up near the Aleutians, and we’ve hit something of a blow but compared to a YMS (minesweeper) it is just like a Pullman. You don’t even have to hold on to eat!

I still am awed by the immensity of this ocean. Here we have been pushiong 16 to 17 knots for a solid week and we are only half way across. The North Pacific is a lonesome expanse of water too for there is not a bit of land anywhere to relieve it.

Like you, I get “butterflies” when I think of calling you on the telephone within one week. I’ve already started jotting down the things I want to be sure and say so the five minutes won’t be completely wasted. It will be late at night when I call and it will take you at least two of the minutes to become rational.

Tell carrot top (my great-aunt is a redhead) she is really about to have a father. I love you for always, you wonderful woman.

P.S. If you should by chance let your children to be read these past four or five hundred letters- after they are grown, of course -don’t forget to do a proper job of censoring.

The postscript is what got me. Like he had written it knowing I would come along and carry away the boxes of his (and her) war letters. One day I will read them all, uncensored. The truest of treasures.

Random Things from the Galley, and beyond

1. Quinoa was not a hit. I inherited about fifteen pounds of it from a lovely couple leaving their boat for the summer. It cooks wicked fast, it’s healthy. I just need to get them to like it.
2. Taco mix. Also not a hit. We don’t do many of the quick-fix sauces and stuff at the supermarket and here I am reminded of why. Not a hit.
3. Trader Joe’s kitchen towels are awesome. If they were twice as big they’d be perfect. I will be buying another 4 or so when I’m in Atlanta this weekend. They dry fast, soak up tons, and are perfect for throwing on a flat surface when I’m washing dishes.
4. Dishes. I wash all of our bowls everyday. We use them constantly, it seems. And loads of kid’s IKEA plates. Constant. I do miss the dish washer, I will admit. Could care less about the microwave and other appliances, but do not take your dish washers for granted, landlubbers.
5. Coffee grounds? Bane of my existence. The sink doesn’t drain directly overboard- I have to pump it out, so we try to minimize the stuff that gets in those hoses, for fear it will sit and fester and smell. This is just one of a great many quirks of the boat that we didn’t change, thinking that there must have been a good reason for doing it that way. But seriously, if we ever do change it, I will not. Repeat WILL NOT miss scraping wet coffee grounds out of the bottom of that sink (that never fully empties). No matter how carefully I dump the French press, they sneak in.
6. The oven continues to impress. We made a pizza!
7. For our grand voyage I will be packing eight hundred loaves of bread, six dozen jars of peanut butter, and four dozen jars of jam. Clearly our children can survive on this ration for months at a time. John and I are suffering from the sameness, but them? They will never tire of the PB&J.

Speaking of whom, Rosy got two of her canines (teeth) this week. I’ve said it before, but teething is the big awful thing of the first two years that nobody warned me about. Visions of reliving the teething years=best birth control on the block. Two teeth to go, for now. Relief is setting in.

Meanwhile, Sophie has pink eye. John has predicted we will all fall victim to it by the end of the week. Living in 33 feet does have its challenges when it comes to managing contagions. She said before bed, “I tried not to touch Rosy all day!”

The girls and I leave for Atlanta this weekend and John has a slew of new things to play with- non-skid paint, a new radar tower, a fuel tank to install, a DC system to work out. We got a good quote for a dodger, so that’s coming along. Every day, a little more.

Sophie and I read a Jon Muth book tonight and while she was more taken with the panda bear illustrations than the Buddhist undertones, she made me read it twice. I love the end: “Remember then that there is only one important time, and that time is now. The most important one is always the one you are with. And the most important thing is to do good for the one who is standing at your side. For these, my dear boy, are the answers to what is most important in this world.”

In our rush of getting ready, it’s easy to look beyond the here and now. The weather is heating up, we have a zillion things to juggle, parts to order and install, bills to pay. But when we stop and have a meal, take a walk, read a book, we are doing something just as important. For them, especially.

Highs and Lows

First, the drama.
Wordpress dumped my post from last night. Ugh.
Rosy threw up on me twice today, in the parking lot of West Marine. It reminded me of Sophie’s stomach bug on the transatlantic flight back from Germany. When you’re so thrilled that somehow you have extra clothes, not only for the kid, but also for yourself. I think in Rosy’s case, it was brought on by too much party food. Let’s hope. Then, at dinner, Sophie spilled an enormous soda all over our table, cushions, and the library books under the table. I can’t decide which was the highlight of my day.

Speaking of highlights, my sister is engaged!!! Whoo-hooo! Sophie said, “Do you think I’ll be invited to the wedding? So I can wear a beautiful dress????!!!” Congratulations Corey and Su!

This week the mainsail went up and that means I need to get cracking on a sailcover. We’ve already had one dude flake out on our dodger project, so we’re off to recruit the next stoner in town. The Keys Disease is something we won’t miss.

John got most of the engine systems completed this week. Exhaust, vented loop, seawater intake, fuel tank, insanely-difficult-to-locate fuel filters. My grandfather would have had a laugh over the search for the German Mercedes-Benz filters we ended up putting in our Danish diesel. I’m not sure why, but he would have had something to say about the ordeal, appreciating the ridiculousness and the worldliness all at once. I miss that man.

We are at that stage I remember so well from our first boat. It was some night in August, 2004. John worked all day doing the last wiring and hose clamping. The sun had set by the time we got Rubi’s engine to start and we went puttering down the Chelsea Creek in Boston, never so thrilled to hear the chugging of a diesel engine. To be underway again. It’s just magic. It still amazes both of us that we put that engine in, top to bottom, beds and shaft and all, and it ran like a top for 1700 miles. If we can only be so lucky again.

So between the engine and the sails, this little boat may be taking a trip one day sooner than later! Fingers crossed, eh?

And this is our crew:

Playing

The ladies have been playing on the boat, but it’s funny to watch how the different space has changed their needs. They tend to focus on one toy at a time. One task- coloring, swaddling the babies, jumping off the step onto the cabin sole, again and again. The stuffed things have been a hit, as they fit in well in the forepeak, which is one giant bed. The toy trucks and trains haven’t seen much use. The colored pencils are used six times a day (we’ve banned markers on the boat, with our nice new upholstery). They have been into the play food, and dress-up occasionally. I have a wishlist for Roo’s birthday and everyday occasions, which I’m compiling for me, but also for family and friends who wonder what kids on a boat might like. We have to avoid sharp edges or points, things with tiny parts, toys that can become weapons (our beloved dragon got shelved for the reason!). I’m filing this away for June 27th. Not long from now- frighteningly enough!

-More playsilks (we have blue and green), as they use them all the time, for capes, flags, blankets, burkhas.
-Ferby colored pencils. They are the best and John even found a wicked cool sharpener for them. Sophie uses them all day long. I need to get a couple of sketchbooks so cleanup is easier and they have an ongoing forum for the scribbling.
-Lyra crayons. Rosy uses these. Basically any writing device that can leave marks on its own when dropped onto a cushion has no business near Rosy.
-Cool workbooks and coloring books. Sophie’s ready for the cool Taro Gomi editions.
-Doll diapers. That fit Blabla dolls. Rosy loves to reenact our bedtime routines, complete with “nighttime diapers.”
-Books books books, especially paperbacks we can squirrel away.
-iTunes credits. Books on tape, TV shows, new music. We are addicted to iTunes. All of us.
-Stationary. My parents sent Sophie some stamps a few weeks ago and you’d have thought she’d received gold coins. This kid loves mail.

In other news, John just raised the mainsail. First time in who knows how many years. Talk about liberating . . .

Another Week

Another week, another few dozen projects. The overhead is slowly going in, the stove done (thanks, John!), the boom and mainsail, the running backstays, the engine filters, the fuel tank, the radar tower, the DC electronics, the solar controller, sail covers . . . the list goes on. The girls are recovering from the egg hunt overload and received some sweet stuffed things from their grandparents. The stuffed animals are almost as popular as the crayons these days. It’s funny how so many of their toys have gone forgotten and unused since we’ve moved aboard. A whole new place means a whole new way to play.

Speaking of playing. One of our oldest friends in the harbor just got himself a new dog, Fluffy. Sophie has found a new best friend. Something to really chase! Fluffy joins a family of Golden Retrievers aboard Tevake, our friend Chris’s boat. Here’s one of his predecessors, Knuckles, back in 2005.

And for inspiration, I’m thrilled to be following Behan Gifford’s updates as she and her family make their way to the Marquesas. They are two days out of Mexico and posting onto their blog via radio (magic ham technology!). It’s better than any miniseries.

The Galley

Yesterday John hooked up a propane tank to the stove that came on the boat. The glorious, three-burner stove with an oven. We’d been cooking on a camp stove, which worked well enough(we fed ourselves for two years on the original Rubi with a Coleman propane camp stove!), but WOW, this thing rocks my liveaboard world.

Our celebratory dinner was a cabbage/sausage/noodle jubilee. We are cabbage fans on this boat. Simple, sauteed cabbage is so cheap and easy and so delicious. We eat it all the time.

But this? This is a great recipe. A pasta recipe that truly comes together in one pot. We loved it. The girls devoured it. It’s our new favorite pasta.

Treehugging Tuesday- SOAP!

A few weeks ago my liveaboard friend Behan left this comment: “In the realm of small things: speaking of fish-friendly detergent, there is this old cruising myth about Joy. Liveaboards / cruisers are supposed to love it “because it gives suds in salt water.” Somehow I don’t think it’s fish friendly, although I can’t point to a reference. And… why the fuss about suds? They’re not necessary to get clean, right? The friendly stuff still seems to work just fine. How on earth- (Earth!) can we get this myth dispelled?”

Truly, eh? We’ve tried to do without petroleum-based soaps for a couple of year now, even off the boat. Now that we’re on the boat, when I pump my sink water overboard every day, I can’t imagine using anything but biodegradable, fish-safe soap. It’s my responsibility to do stuff like that, eh? There was certainly a time, on our old boat, when we indulged in our old friends Joy and Dawn. But in the last two years or so, there are so many choices in the realm of cleaning supplies, it wouldn’t even occur to me to buy the other stuff. So, like Behan asked, why do people do it?

I assume it’s habit. It’s what you’ve always known. I can understand that. You assume the other stuff works better with its rinse agents and sudsing properties. It might, but you’re probably using too much of it anyway. It can be cheaper, certainly. But the best advice someone gave me a while back is to dilute, dilute, dilute. The soap companies want more of your business. Things have become so super-concentrated lately that you can easily replace half the soap bottle with water and still have an effective solution. The same is true of laundry detergents. If your clothes smell strongly of detergent, you’re using more than you need. Half the recommended amount will suffice in most cases. For the same reason you use less with cloth diapers, use less in normal loads. Lots of soap causes it to build up on your clothes. When we first tried Charlie’s Soap- a washing soda-based natural cleaner, they recommended running a few loads of their soap and water through the machine, just to eliminate the nasty detergent residue. Eww. It does wonders for cloth diapers.

Use better stuff, use less, and if you’re a sucker for scents, I can whole-heartedly recommend Seventh Generation’s dish soap and laundry detergent. It smells like something you might actually find in nature, not to mention that it’s made from the good stuff.

And speaking of laundry- here’s the new normal. IKEA octopus with wind blowing down the hatch. Good times.

Twenty-One Months

Dear Roo,

Happy Month Twenty-One! I feel like every day you shed another layer of babydom. Potty training, running and now skipping, singing songs, enjoying the quiet of a long car ride (wow, to think the epic STRESS of car travel might be over), talking talking talking, pretending, coloring, cutting “noodles” of Playdough. The only thing left is Booby. Your beloved connection back to babyhood. All curled up in my lap, as sweet and soft as you were on this day twenty-one months ago. Your canines are coming in and that’s exascerbated the need for Booooo-beeee. I’m not sure if you’ll be giving it up anytime soon. There are days when I want that more than anything. Some space, some sleep. But I also know that this is my last chance to feel connected to a baby. Wow, my last baby is almost a little girl.

This has been the month of the boat. You’ve been a trooper through it all. At times maddening with the mess and merry-making. The tumbling acts and the lack of volume control. But you’ve also grown up and adapted to the changes like the smart, loving girl that you are. My other favorite firsts have been the kisses you peck your lips for, the true hugs, the “I Wuv Yous.” The questions – “What happen, Daddy?” “What dat?” and the long cries of “Here MY come!!” You imitate Sophie’s games to a T. “Skip to My Lou” is the new favorite song, loaders and backhoes still a roadside obsession. You had your first fat lip, falling headlong into a puddle. You’ve also been swimming like a fish- as coordinated and determined in the water as you are on land. Next year you’ll be jumping off the stern and swimming around the boat, I’m quite sure.

I say it every month, but you are a shining light, so bright and cute that we can barely look at you sometimes. Especially in the morning with bedhead. You are the one and only Rosy. Apple of our eyes. So funny. So COOOT. So very you.

I love you to pieces in the fire (as your great-grandmother used to say),
mama