The boat is emptied of children, the last café con leche has been drunk, and the girl’s tears over leaving sunshine and Nana have been dried. The trip is officially over and we’re heading back to slushy Massachusetts.
Sigh. But it’s only temporary because I’ve convinced the family to move back to Miami Beach. And by convinced, I mean they yell, “Nooooo!†while I put my fingers in my ears and sing, “La la la la la! I can’t hear you!†Pie says she’d miss her BFF, Doodles says he’d miss ice skating, and Adam says he’d miss having a paycheck. Whatever.
[Interjection: I love that at 8:42 a.m. in the Miami Airport, the Barcardi Mojito Bar is open for business! Of course, I’ll be passing because everyone knows you don’t have a Bloody Mary after dark and a mojito before 7 p.m. But it still makes me happy just by its existence.]
We started 2011 off right. Hangover be damned, I wasn’t going to start the new decade without a run. So I ran the eight miles to my cousins’ house, accompanied for half of that trip by Stoney of the R.V. (also known as Claudia’s other half. Hi, Claudia!), who actually rode a bike. At the cousins’, café con leches (what else?) started the day, and the kids all took a quick dip in the hot tub. And then it was an afternoon on the boat.
These photos taken by Ollie.
Let’s talk about the boat, shall we? Ollie’s had this boat for, oh, almost all these years we’ve been going to Miami Beach for New Year’s. The boat has this front area, which folks like to lay on and let the wind rush through their hair and relax. Only to get to the front area, you need to walk around the side of the boat. And I’m scared to walk around the side of the boat. I have this incredibly irrational fear of docks, getting on and off the boat, and being on the side where there’s very little railing. I can’t watch my children being put on the boat—it terrifies me. I need to have at least two adults flanking me and holding onto me as I step the six inches from the dock onto the boat. I’ve always looked longingly at the front of the boat, but it was never to be a reality for me.
Until. Until. Until yesterday, when I said to Tuna’s husband, “I wish I could go up there.†And he said, “Why don’t you?†And I replied, “Well, I can’t walk around the side?†And Tuna’s husband pointed down and said, “Why don’t you just go inside the boat, and come through the hatch?†Um, hello? There’s a hatch I can go through? Why has no one mentioned this to me in, oh, the past four years? Sure, enough, you go into the main bedroom (yes, there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms on this boat), climb up on the bed, and hop up through the hatch. And even better, when you’re there, people will bring you Bloody Marys! Freakin’ people who never told me about the hatch!
[Note: I spoke too soon. The girl’s tears are back. I said to her, “You can’t cry. I already put in my blog that you stopped.†She said, “Then you have to erase that.â€]
After the boat, it was back to the hot tub and then dinner with my ‘rents. And now, now we wait for our plane. In a most sad way. Well, at least for me. Adam is playing with his iPad, Doodles is reading one of the three new Calvin and Hobbes book he got, and Pie is playing with her new Tag reading thingy. And me? I’m thinking about stone crabs, light-up mojito tinis, unlimited free babysitting, and runs on the beach boardwalk.
Only 357 more days till we get to do it again.
