I feel like I say that alot these days when asked how something was with the baby. How is sleep? Um, interesting. How is dinnertime in? Certainly interesting. Well, sailing was like that, too. We're really, really lucky when it comes to the baby thing; we've got a happy, flexible, not-easily-ruffled little guy, and it makes doing all the things we used to do really pretty easy. Miles is only 6 months old and already we've been hiking and camping and swimming in the ocean and out to eat at restaurants and to see bands at pubs - he doesn't cramp our style so much as add a little extra pizazz (and spit up) to it.
That being said - whoa sailing. When Jill came over for dinner on Friday she invited us to go out on the boat and we leapt at the chance. I grew up on the water (and in it) and Jesse has never been on a sailboat, so he was psyched to try it. And we just kind of assumed, given that Miles is a total fish and likes pretty much everything, that he would feel the same. What we didn't factor into the equation was . . . the life jacket of doom.
OH. MY. GOD.
Apparently, life jackets are crap. And sunscreen makes him shiny.
And shiny is crap too.
The instant we strapped him into his just-purchased, coastguard-approved vest he started making horrible guinea pig noises. The guniea pig noises escalated into hyena noises and he pretty much started flipping out before we even left the dock. He settled down for the dingy ride out to the mooring, but then once we were settled onto the boat and had cast off, the hyena-pig returned. I spent the first hour of the sail with him attached to my boob, balancing on my lap like a little buoy and alternately whining and sleeping.
We were able to enjoy the sun and waves and spicy chips and giraffe nuts and goat songs and all the other stuff that goes along with sailing (sailing with Jill, at least) while the young Captain slumbered.
Then upon awakening and realizing that, jesus christ, I'm still in this freaking life jacket, holy god, the most tantrumy of tantrums I have EVER experiences from my little angel ensued. We're talking eyes screwed shut, flailing fists, wailing at full volume for like 6 hours. (Or 15 minutes. I'm not sure. Whatever). And then, as is typical of my dear child, once he realized that, sorry honey, mommy can't do anything about it because we're on a freaking sailboat in the middle of the ocean, (and once we allowed him to be naked - little nudist) he settled down and spent the rest of the sail calmly watching the waves, smiling, eating a banana, and chewing on the jib lines.
So yeah, sailing. It was interesting.