Pot Holes... Island Style

What is the one thing you don't want to add to a stressful driving experience? (In this case, stressful was remembering to drive on the left-hand side of the road and watch out for smooth sections of road (Why should you watch for smooth sections? We were in St Croix for our vacation. I've written about the roads and general driving before. This year, it looks like maintaining the roads got away from them, (kinda like spring cleaning) and it was actually easier to assume the road was a giant pot hole. The conversation usually went like this:


“Didn't you see that pot hole?” from my wife.

“That was us coming out of the pot hole.”

I think she usually had some other comment, but I couldn't hear it because my ears were popping as we descended into another pot hole.)

That one thing you don't want to add is two passengers of the female gender. My wife was hopped up on caffeine and my daughter was channeling an auctioneer. Both were talking to me, carrying on completely different conversations (In my daughter's case, her conversation had at least three separate themes that I was supposed to keep straight.)

We were heading back to Cane Bay to pick up my son from the first part of his scuba certification. So, to the best of my recollection, the topics I was being bombarded with were:

How big were the waves at Cane Bay (I made the mistake of saying they were sweet baby killer waves. Both my daughter and my wife explained in great detail that this meant the waves killed babies, and my daughter added that every year they had different ways of describing the waves, and this year, killer and baby were definitely not allowed to be in the description, even when properly punctuated (I proposed sweet killer waves, baby.).

When were we getting star fruit, because you can't have a vacation without star fruit. Also, we should take the seeds back with us and plant them. Her friends didn't know how good star fruit was. She could take a picture, but it would be much better to have the actual fruit.

My daughter missed her friends. Every summer she doesn't get to see them (because there is no school) and this summer, she again didn't get to see them at all! (At least she's good at noticing patterns. I didn't mention that she saw her friends every Monday at girl scouts. She also saw her friends at girl scout camp the week before we left. We've also had her friends over to play...)

I also take inappropriate pictures. The picture of her I used for the cover of my book (which you can buy on amazon.com, just search for Jack Dayett, it's called Surviving Childhood and Raising Special Needs Parents) was not taken with her permission and it is very embarrassing that millions of people have seen it. (I didn't mention that with my readership well into the mid-single digits, millions might be a bit high.) I should only take pictures when she is ready. That spawned a side conversation on the weirdest sleeping picture contest that we have every year. (For more info on that, check out the archives from August two years ago.) She thought for a couple of minutes and said it was ok, as long as they weren't published globally.

My wife's conversation was centered around the fact the our daughter had come out of her shell. (Along with a growth spurt that added about three inches to her height, she's also lost her fear of boys. Now they are just icky. She definitely is not going to get married unless they change the kiss thing to a fist bump. That might be acceptable, but kissing is out of the picture.)

So, we were having a nice drive through the island. (The people on St Croix are some of the nicest drivers you will ever meet. Going the wrong way down a one-way street or even driving on the wrong side of the road does not seem to bother them in the slightest. (My wife on the other hand is quick to point out both these errors, but she doesn't adapt to the island life as fast as I do.) I had the radio on to drown out the conversations, but each time I turned it up, they both talked louder. Luckily, all I had to do was hit a pot hole and all conversations stopped while they waited to see if the car was going to keep running. Thankfully, there is no shortage of potholes.

Sleeping

“Hurry up, Daddy, she's sleeping weird again,” my son yelled in an almost whisper as he came running onto the porch.

See, last year, we went on vacation to Saint Croix. Both kids had realized they were born with an set of gills. They spent the first day of their vacation in the water, or marginally below the surf, depending on the size of the wave. That first night, both kids didn't just fall alseep, they crashed big time. My daughter managed a joint-dislocating sprawl that had to be immortalized digitally. The next morning, I got a one (of many) lectures from her on how I was not supposed to take pictures when she was sleeping. (Of course that only made me take more).

This time, after getting up at 3 am, flying around the world four and a half times, keeping track of her brother and her mother and a quick dip in the ocean, my daughter was more than ready to go to bed early. As I do every night, I checked on her after a couple of hours and was not surprised that she was sleeping across the bed (Up and down don't really have a serious meaning for her) her arms flailed out. Obviously, with full understanding of the coming lecture, I had to take her picture.

The next morning, she was thrilled with her picture. I was ordered to take a picture every night so she could see how funny she was. (Yes, she's a bit of an actress/drama queen. She gets that from her mother)

Well... After three days of snorkeling, fighting waves, playing the sand and turning into native islanders, both kids went beyond exhausted and fell asleep and did not move last night. When my daughter asked to see her picture, I explained they were both too boring and needed to step up their game tonight.

That's why my son was so happy that his sister was sleeping weird.

We started the day fairly quietly. A trip to Cane Bay, snorkeling, playing in the water and the sand. A lunch thrown in for when everyone got hungry. It sounded like a perfect plan. We got to the bay and immediately, both kids perked up. WAVES. Last year, Cane Bay had the “sweetest waves, baby” according to my son. This was right after a hurricane passed by and the waves were tall (and solid. Apparently, when a wave starts that far away, it picks up sand and these were very reluctant to let that sand go until they hit me.)

Both kids raced to the water and began the age old battle of kid against element. While they were engaged in their warfare against the evil waves, my wife decided to snorkel out and see how the visibility was. About the time she got beyond the initial breakers, both kids decided they were ready to snorkel too. Somehow, I got to take my daughter. I loaded her up with her snorkel vest (and blew it up, in case you are wondering.) put her fins on her and tightened them up and got her mask and snorkel arranged. Then, holding on to her, so the current wouldn't drag her to another island, I managed to get my fins (in case you have never tried, getting fins on, holding a five-year who thinks she can swim as fast as a fish, but hasn't quit grasped that keeping the snorkel in your mouth helps the whole breathing underwater thing, keeping your balance as waves pummel you and the current drags you down the beach is a challenging endeavor. Adding in your wife laughing definitely does not improve the situation.) and my mask on.

One final check to make sure she was ready and my daughter and I started out for the reefs. This was accomplished by my daughter spinning around in circles to look at the fish, the rocks, the sand-pretty much anything that moved, while I pulled her along through the waves and current. After what felt like three hours of towing an anchor (I'm going to rent my daughter out to the American Olympic swimming team, or whichever country offers the most money, to improve their conditioning.) we made it past all the waves and over the reefs. My daughter was still spinning, but now she was adding in her own commentary (in all likelihood, the commentary never stopped, I just couldn't hear it while I was having the embolism and towing her to the calm water.)

So, to recap:

Getting Daughter ready to snorkel-10 minutes.
Getting my stuff on while holding daughter-2 minutes and several pulled muscles
Getting daughter past waves and current to see reef-10 minutes and embolism (but great cardio)
Daughter getting cold and wanting to go back to the beach-1 minute.

We finished the day with hermit crab races. Apparently it is a huge weekly event for the kids (and the adults that have spent the day drinking). Each “kid” picked a crab, named it and got their parent or non-drunk friend to hand over two dollars. The crabs were all put into a five-gallon bucket and after all the bars sponsoring the event were named, the bucket was turned over and the crabs ran for safety. Unfortunately for the crabs, they were surrounded by kids who'd spent the entire day in the water and adults who'd spent the past two hours, in a bar, waiting for the crab races to start. The only safe place was the center of the circle. My daughter's crab knew this and didn't move. The rest of the crabs were not as smart and headed for danger.

“I'll never win a crab race.” my daughter lamented from my shoulders as I carried her to our rental car after all the prizes had been given out.

“I saw your crab (let's be honest, out of a couple hundred hermit crabs, all piled in a heap, there is no way I was going to be able to see one crab, but this is an allowable parental lie. “No, I didn't eat the last of the Doritos, your brother did.” is not, according to my wife.) and he tried his best.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to win a crab race,” I could feel her shoulders slump under the burden of defeat. I had no idea that her only goal in life had been to become a champion hermit crab racer, and how she had been dealt a serious blow to that dream.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, but I didn't win.”

“Want to try again next week.”

I felt her perk up a bit. “Yes! I will win next week, I just have to keep trying.”

Another recap:

Day of snorkeling-Daddy mild embolism
Hermit crab races-Daddy second mild embolism carrying daughter to car.

After years of parenthood, I was sure both kids would step up their game sleeping tonight. The only problem was I had to make sure all the cameras were hidden before I went to sleep...