In Search of the Perfect Island Pool

We went sailing the islands in search of the perfect island pool.  This time around our itinerary included three island overnighters.  Our first stop was to be Orcas Island/Rosario Resort and Marina.  We left Bellingham filled with anticipation of great weather and great times out on the water.  The weather couldn't have been better, really.  Sunny skies and warm temperatures made me feel as if we'd won some sort of Pacific Northwest weather lotto.  The kids played down below, content to draw, read and play games with cousin, Jack, who joined us for this little adventure.  It was relaxing to stay up at the front of the boat and enjoy a pretty quiet time of peace and sunbathing.  A perfect combination after a hectic week at work and the chore of packing for four days away in a 37 foot sailboat.  Of course, candy never hurts, and Grandpa Bruce remarked that with the amount of candy and treats brought on board, we could eat candy for days without dipping in to the food stash.

Rosario

Rosario was an amazing marina.  If you want a convenient swimming pool, I do believe Rosario will give any resort/marina a run for it's money.  Walk up the small dock and there you have the pool.  Right above the marina docks.  Tucked back against the cliffs, the Mansion is quite the commanding sight.  Don't let that fool you, though.  It may look grand, but the mood of this marina is very laid back and homey.  The attendants at the dock were helpful and friendly, and the dockside store and grill provided everything we could need.  There are different activities to do on Orcas.  We did check out the mansion, listed to some pipe organ music, and searched for ghosts on the haunted second floor.  However, our needs consisted of finding more candy, buying floaties for the pool, and the mandatory sailing vacation ice cream cones.  We tend to be pretty self sufficient with the supplies we bring.  We don't have grand plans of island culinary genius.  We do, however, grade on pool and ice cream.  I won't say Rosario won any big points for ice cream (the grill and store only sold soft serve), but they won big for a pool steps from the marina docks.

After a fabulous sleep, John headed up the road for a Orcas Island run, and I took the boys up to search out pool floaties that had been shopped in the store/spa the night before.  God forbid they not have a pool floatie at ages 5 and 8.  I just chalked it up to vacation whims and didn't fuss about it.  What we saved by staying in the boat instead of the Mansion rooms afforded quite a little monetary cushion for floaties and ice cream I suppose. Following an early morning swimming pool session, we once again loaded up and said goodbye to Rosario.  What a treat it was!

Lopez Island

Off we were to Lopez Island/Fisherman's Bay.  This was the pool the boys were looking forward to.  They hadn't quite believed us when we told them about Rosario and the pool setup they have.  They were determined to get to Lopez.  Lopez again delivered.  With its laid back vibe, and simple, unpretentious marina, Lopez was again a hit.  After having been there a few weeks ago, the kids quickly made their way up to the pool.  Not before hitting up the ice cream cooler, though.  They knew exactly where to go for the ice cream.  John headed out for an afternoon exploratory run out to the peninsula, and we quickly headed for an afternoon of pool time.  Later, after dragging the boys out of the water, grandpa took the boys out by dinghy and John and I walked in to meet them in town.  Guess what was our first stop?  Yep!  The ice cream store!  To be followed up by some browsing in the island bookstore.  Although my plan was to browse and possibly buy a book the read on the trip, I spent the entire time in the kiddie section helping the boys decide on what books they wanted to take back to the boat.  It warmed my heart to sit on the floor reading jacket covers.  How cool it was to have the boys find such enjoyment in looking over the selection, picking ones out, then returning when something more enticing caught their eye.  Again, as I did with the pool, I basically had to drag them out of there or they would have left with an armful of books.  I took one last look back, though, as we left.   However heartwarming it was, I could only look longingly back at the shelves of books I might have picked out.  Oh well!  There will be another time!  When we got back from our jaunt in to town, John took the boys out by dinghy to "Shipwreck Island".  Skeleton boats litter this little peninsula (the boys will forever call it Shipwreck Island, I believe) where they did a bit of exploring and built a fort using items they had collected.  After dinner, we headed up once again to the pool, but not before having a wonderful dinner prepared by Grandma Lil with John's prepared meatballs.  However, following the swim, Thomas was super hungry, and filled up on restaurant chicken strips and fries. Whereas John and Cooper could care less about restaurants, Thomas LOVEs to eat out.  Oh, and should you feel sorry for poor little Cooper being left out... once again Cooper had another ice cream from the freezer section of the lobby.

Roche Harbor

After an early morning swim and hot tub  (Lopez is leading on the pool crawl due to the inclusion of a steaming hot hot tub as well as a great pool), we headed out around lunch time for Roche Harbor.  The trip to Roche was not for the weak stomach.  The wild water and big, crashing waves truly tested the strength of my seasickness patch.  I had listened to the marine forecast with Bruce earlier, and knew we would be hitting some interesting water.  However, when I brought up to Bruce the "small craft advisory" that had been mentioned, I was unprepared when Bruce replied back, "This is it."  Simple enough, I guess.  No other choice really.  We just kept steady and plowed right through the "Small Craft Advisory".  It was supposed to be a quick one and a half hour trip.  I do believe it was the longest two hours plus I have been through....at least out on the ocean. Four to five foot seas and twenty plus knot winds.  Crazy.  So when the marina finally came in to view, it was a big relief for all of us.  Later in the day we heard from two families with 22 foot sailboats that they went to leave the area for Victoria, only to turn back once they realized the waves crashing over their bow was too dangerous.  The deck folks that helped us dock asked us how it had been, then remarked that a lot of people were chattering about it, and it was talk of the marina.  Wasting no time, we quickly loaded our swim gear up and headed to the playground and pool.  While it was decent enough weather, the clouds and breeze kept things a bit on the cooler side.  The boys did not like the water temperature nor the depth (the whole pool is no more than 3.5 feet deep) and quickly tired of the pool.  Here we are at one of the most beautiful marinas in the country and the boys quickly tire of it.  So, what does one do when the pool is not enticing?  Dingy lessons?  More ice cream?  Bocce Ball in the courtyard?  Fish and Chip?  Spooky trek to the McMillin family mausoleum?  Fish and Chips and Burgers overlooking the marina?  Check all of the above.  What a fabulous day, although Roche may not make it on our next island pool crawl.  Roche is haughty, pretentious, the super model of marinas.  Super yachts with their fancy pants accessories and big screen plasmas.  Parties on the back of these super yachts, fancy clothes, dinghies that look like a mini boat instead of a dinghy, and money spilling out of everywhere. It gets tiring, really.  While the horns were sounding at the evening flag lowering ceremony, our guys blasted the fog horn and goose calling horn.  Just call us the rednecks out on the far deck!  It was a relief to call it a day.  In the morning, Bruce went to work teaching Thomas how to operate the dinghy.  Cooper got in the action, too.  Both boys refused to swim, even though the sun was hot.  I had the great fortune of sitting out in the sunshine, content to let the hot morning sun work its magic.  Before wrapping up Roche, we once again hit the ice cream stand and the grocery store (diet Coke and a fish net that Coop wanted).   It was no hardship motoring away. We bid goodbye to the lifestyles of the rich and famous and hit the waters for home.

Packing for San Juan Sailing

It could be said that packing for a sailing trip should just be like packing to camp, right?  Light and tight?
Well, not so fast.  Take the medicine bag, for example.  How do you not pack the bandages, ointment and tape?  What about the random splinter/hangnail that must be dealt with?  And don't forget about a middle of the night onset of croupy cough, the pesky headache that won't go away or the trip ending earache?  Can't forget the tylenol, the ibuprofen, and the prescription strength cough syrup for such an event.  Add to that Tommy's migraine meds.  Don't forget the sunscreen and the aloe vera gel in case of sunburn.  After all, it can happen quickly out on the open water (dare we think there will be sunshine out this time of year?)  Did we get the earplugs, because Thomas can't swim without them.  And on top of that, John and I tend to enjoy a good night's rest on a cramped boat courtesy of a bit of melatonin/benedryl combo we have to pack in this mess.
Light and tight?  Not quite yet.  However, it is a blessing not to pack the diaper/bottles/formula and other assortment of "baby gear".

Cooper at 5

Cooper loves to dress up. If he watches a show on tv, inevitably he wants to dress up as a character or a player for that particular spot.  So if he wants to watch soccer, he will try to find as many of his clothes as possible to get just the "right" look to be exactly the player he wants to be.  Right now he is in to being a baseball catcher.  What that means is that not only does he get a uniform on, consisting of dark blue fuzzy pants, a jersey top, soccer high socks, shin guards and a helmet, but he must also find his mouthguard.  Now, though, he sees that baseball catches look "puffy" with guards, so he has taken to finding a life jacket and then putting the jersey of the jacket so that it looks exactly like a catch.  Then he wants to know what number he is wearing, then you must go to that particular sport and find a player with that number and tell him the name.  Then he "is" that player for the rest of the minute, hour, half day or whatever time frame he has until he switches to another character.  The other day he was on to White Sox, and he had me searching Google for images of what White Sox players wear so that he could find just the right outfit in his dresser.  Minutes later he was a Sounders player, heading down to grandpa's to play him in a match.  Later, he was a Mariner, complete with new uniform.  Then he came out of the garage with his little work out tight shorts and big puffy mittens, saying he's been "working" out boxing.  Then he punched me in the gut and asked if he had a six pack.  A while back we had to get a number put on his Sounders jersey, after days of begging and fussing about it.  Cooper can be relentless, and he will wear you down and out some days.  He loves to talk, and will carry on and on about the stories he has going on at that particular moment.

Lopez Island Sailing Trip 2012

With the weather as nice as it's been, we decided to run away for a sailing trip.  You can't take nice weather for granted when it comes to the islands, so we jumped on the idea to sail away for a quick adventure.  The key to an island sailing trip is a great pool.  Last year's adventure to Roche Harbor's pool was a success, so after seeing that the Lopez Islander had a marina with a pool, we decided to head there instead.  Grandma Lillian is the queen of inside cabin activities for the boys, and while the weather outside wasn't all that thrilling for tanning, the boys were having a blast down below.  Every now and then they would peek out to see what was going on up on top, but quickly headed down for more journaling, books and games with grandma.  The trip over to Lopez was fabulous, and we were even treated to a dolphin sighting that Thomas spotted on his trip to the front of the boat.  The water was dead calm at that time, so it made for a marvelous sight.  Shortly after that, though, the adventure turned sketchy, as we entered a fog bank.  With John and I scouting out the side, and Bruce manning the instruments and front, we slowly crept through a thick, scary fog bank.  It was disconcerting to hear a fog horn, yet not have a clue where it was, or how far away it was.  At one point, Bruce motioned for me to see a large, yellow dot on his radar, and I switched from watching the side of the boat to scanning the back.  I can't tell you how amazing it is to see an enormous ferry emerge out of the fog right on your tail!  It was like a scene out of a movie.  "Bruce!  Bruce!  It's a ferry!  Right behind us!" I yelled.  That yellow dot was not just any old boat coming up on us.  I am sure Bruce thought I was nuts when I said, "Can you just pull over?"  Uh...pull over, like a highway?  Hmmmm....

Can't really do that on the open water, now can you?  However, Bruce did change his direction just a tad, and instead of the ferry overtaking us (sailboats have a tendency to just disappear out on the water), it also changed course just a bit.  I prayed and prayed that the sun would break through the fog so that we wouldn't be in such a sketchy sail much longer.

Lopez Island treated us well, and we found that the laid back marina was much to our liking.  There was nothing fancy about it, no mega-bucks boats and their parties to contend with.  We spent the majority of the afternoon playing up at the pool and hot tub, then had dinner out on the deck of the restaurant.  We timed it just right, as the thunder and lighting that we could see on the horizon all day finally overtook our little slice of heaven and the storm hit.  It was an amazing thunder and lightning storm.  It's an interesting situation to be inside a sailboat, out in the water, with lightning strikes all around and pretty continuous.  Normally you would run from such a situation, but when in a marina, all we could do was hunker down and enjoy the show.  And what a show it was!  We played Scrabble, the boys played with the Ipad and cards, then when the power in the marina went out with one powerful burst of lightning, we all settled in for the night.  I loved this trip.  It was a perfect, amazing little adventure, and I couldn't be more thankful for the opportunity to do this with our family.

Summertime Fun 2012

Finally, summer is here.  Although the weather did not cooperate much in June, we finally managed to get the cousins here for some tubing fun!

Cooper Turns 5

Cooper had several birthday parties this year.  He had a preschool friends birthday party at Jump Around Fun Zone.  He had a Whipples/Lawrences birthday party at Red Robin, our standard birthday celebration.  Followed up by a birthday party at home complete with presents, Georgia-decorated streamer and balloon fest and ice cream cake.  It is hard to believe that this little guy is already 5 and what life he has brought to our home.  He continues to amaze us with his big talk, his big plans and his even bigger than life adventurous spirit.  We love him dearly!

Will I be Strong?

How will I measure up? What kind of friend will I prove to be? I have often wondered, usually in the lateness of night, or in a quiet moment. I found this on another blog, and had to share, along with my own questioning heart.

10 Ways to Help Parents With Grieving Hearts

Ruth Stoecker

1. Be there. One mom put it so well. She said, “It’s not the words you spoke; it’s the tear you left on my cheek.” Commit to walk with me through the valley no matter how long it takes. It may take awhile. Statistics show that a parent is considered newly bereaved for five years. I may tell you I want to be alone. Yes, you should honor that. But know that I don’t mean forever, just maybe right now. What I really want is for you to be there.

Will I? Can I? Or will I say the wrong thing in an effort to help in some small way? Can I truly just "be there"?

2. Pray for me. Don’t stop, although I may even tell you to. My faith has been shaken and I feel as though I have been betrayed. I question how God could have allowed this to happen. I may even be angry with Him for a time. I need your prayers. I am too wounded and weak to pray for myself.

I know I can do this one, for in the most honest times, it's all I am clinging to. I know that the Lord holds Esther so close, and we are clinging to His strength, His guidance in the most difficult of times.


3. Don’t expect very much from me, especially those first few months. It is a challenge for me to get out of bed and on a good day I might remember to brush my teeth. Even though my world has stopped, life continues. I have to cook, clean, take care of my remaining family, and often go back to work. Help me. Bring over a meal. Take my children to the park or to a movie. Do my laundry. Run to the grocery store for me. Don’t wait until I ask you; I probably won’t.

4. Don’t offer advice or give me clichés. I don’t need a sermon on how best to grieve. Don’t offer me clichés such as, “Time heals all wounds,” or “It is God’s will.” Don’t assume that you know how I feel. Even other bereaved parents don’t truly know my grief. We are each unique, so don’t lecture me. Just walk with me and be there.

What will I say?  How will I say what is on my heart, the hurt, the sadness, the loss and mourning, when your hurt, your sadness, your loss and mourning is cutting so much deeper than mine?  Will I be there?

5. Say the name of my child. I love to hear it! Remember a story about him and share it with me. Let me talk about him; don’t change the subject. I may tell you the same things over and over and over, but please just be there.

This I won't have trouble with.  We loved her so richly while she was growing in Rhonda.  We planned, we prepared, we spoke of the future and our adventures to come.  Her beauty and her touch on so many hearts will be something to share forever.

6. Accept that I am different now. I will never be the person I was before. A mom told me the other day that she was watching old videos and as she saw herself laughing and having fun with her daughter, she missed her. She also said, “I missed me.” We have lost our innocence. We have lost a portion of ourselves, and we are different now.


This is where I say I am "mourning".  Things changed.


This is a hard one for me. I feel that our friendship as it was before changed on the night we got the news. Suddenly the movie that we had been trying to fit into our schedule had little to do with the reality of now. I feel that loss, each time we talk the hard talk. I feel the loss of what was and the unknown of what our new life will be. Does that make sense? Sometimes I wonder. Selfish, definitely. Painful? Very much. Instead of planning our next adventure, our next trip, our next batch of cookies or concert.....we have grief, for loss, memories, mourning...

7. Don’t judge me. I may wear a T-shirt with his picture and visit his grave every day, sometimes twice a day. It may make you uncomfortable if my office cubicle looks like a shrine to the one I lost. Please give me some time.

8. Watch for the signs. Be alert to behavior that may be dangerous. There are those who cannot move beyond their pain; encourage them to talk to someone in the professional field. Search out a support group for them, and offer to go to it with them.

How will I measure up? What kind of friend can I be when I am too hurting? I wonder....

Cooper's 1st Day of 3 Day Preschool

What a wonderful change this morning was! Cooper is eager to go to school, and all week we've tried hyping it up for him. Knowing what a dismal playgroup year we had with him last year, I couldn't help but have doubts and lingering worry over how he would actually do starting back up at Catch The Son. However, I loved Teacher Dana for Tommy, and she was able to pull him through his rough times starting out there, so I had hope going into this day. Cooper was ready, even ate a bite of breakfast before heading out with his huge red backpack that he insisted on taking. I think he put in a stuffed dog and his two dubbies, as we reminded him that he can't suck on his dubbies at school. He didn't put up much fuss, actually, so it was really looking good. Throughout the week, Coop would say, "You will stay with me at my school, right?" He wanted that assurance and was thinking of last year when we would stay and play with him the whole time. We told him again and again that he was a big boy, that we would stay a bit to get him settled in, but would need to go "to the office" and just check in on him. That seemed to satisfy him without too much fuss.
I took him that morning while John got Tommy up to his class. I stayed with him, standing in the back, as he jumped right in playing and exploring all the projects he had around him. After about 15 minutes, I gave him a hug and told him that I needed to check with the office for a few minutes. He didn't seem to care much either way, and quickly went off to play again. I stayed out in the hallway, peeking in on him. He was doing so great I eventually sat down in the hall to wait for John's arrival. We hadn't planned on it being this easy, though. When John arrived, I told him how good he was doing and that we probably should just let him play without going in again. Leaving him was a lot easier than I thought, and John's report later that he did great with the whole morning was quite a relief.

What a difference a summer makes! I can't believe how much change it was going from the tears and fuss of playgroup to this now. I can only hope that Coop continues to enjoy his time with Teacher Dana and all the new projects and fun he will have at his school!

In the pictures....Coop is excited about his big red backpack and Tommy is not excited for another day of school!

The Many Faces of Cooper

For several months now, Coop has taken to dressing up. At first it started out with a couple little Halloween outfits, like the puppy, the black kitty cat and the rather "business-tight" getup of the kangaroo and joey pouch costume. AND then there came the Indiana Jones explosion in our house, and suddenly there were multiple costume changes throughout the day to "be Indiana Jones", or maybe even "Doctor Jones". Scarfs flew through the house as "whips" and various acrobatic moves were launched from the couches and beds. Christmas brought it full circle with an authentic looking Indiana Jones hat from Santa/Grandma and a full on cowboy outfit that works better as Indiana from Nana and Papa Darrell. Full on Indiana Jones in THE HOUSE!
Aunt Barb and Uncle Stephen supplied the Soldier with weapons outfit and our outfits continue to grow. These treasures now turn in to "The mailman", the "Delivery Man", the "Hardware Sales Man", the "Garbage Man" and the "Restruction (Construction) Man", "Tackleback (for Hasselback in full football uniform), and "Worker-Man". You have to put on shoes, take off shoes, put on boots, take off boots, put on cleats, take off cleats, put on scarves, hats and different other accessories for each "man", so it can make for an interesting day to be in and out of outfits with each changing mood. Super fun, super times with our little Cooper!

Pictures to follow.

Cooper @ Mt. Baker

Untitled, a photo by whippski on Flickr.

Tommy @ Mt. Baker

Tommy @ Mt. Baker, a photo by whippski on Flickr.

Calling 911

I haven't really pondered it much, but I always pictured myself with much more composure should I ever be in need of calling 911 for one of my children. I have done it before, in work situations, or once on the road (when it was legal to dial and drive) with a suspected drunk driver careening around in front of me. However, in light of a child that is struggling to breathe, my child in fact, it looked a whole lot different than the calm, efficient detailed 911 call I'd like to believe myself capable of.

With Cooper buckled in to the car seat, thrashing about and frantic with his inability to breathe well, I too was frantic to make a decision.
"What should we do? " I cried to John, wrestling with our decision to transport him to the hospital ourselves. We stared at each other for agonizing seconds. He can't breathe, he is panicked, crying and tossing around in his car seat.
"John, should we call? What if something worse happens while I am driving?" I nearly yell, racking my brain for the right answer, tears threatening.
Finally, "call", and he hauled Cooper back out of the car seat. "Call 911," he said, his voice surprisingly soft and calm.

How do I call 911? You ever been there before, when your mind is so frantic and your hands are shaking? Tears making it hard to see the numbers on your phone? It's 911 for goodness sake!!!! My baby can't breathe, he can't breathe! What has gone so wrong in a matter of minutes that he can't FREAKING BREATHE!!!!

My voice was not calm on the phone, tears were streaming down my face, and I imagine I sounded like the frantic mother I was. I know I answered the questions, didn't make demands, and wasn't hysterical. That much I know. But I was crying, I was trying to slow my heart rate down, as I felt my heart would beat out of my chest at any moment. I paced the driveway as I answered the guy on other end. I asked if they were sending from Sudden Valley or Geneva. I was grateful when he said Geneva, as those are the guys just up the street from us. I figured they'd make it down quicker than if I'd tried to drive to the ER myself.

Back up a few minutes...just a few minutes....


Cooper was sound asleep. John had tucked them both in to bed with his usual long, drawn out bedtime ritual of Ipad games. Everything was calm and serene. I was already in jammies and in bed myself, hoping to crash after a long day. One cough, and I nearly ignored it, but another quickly followed, and sounded like one of the boys might actually be on the verge of throwing up as deep as the cough was. I got out of bed to see, and crawled in to bed with Cooper, who at this point, two coughs later, was already struggling in his bed. Quickly I pulled him out of bed, intent on seeing what's wrong. Seconds go by, only seconds, and we realize something is really wrong. He could verbalize that he couldn't breathe, he was pacing around the room, grabbing his throat, sweating and frantic. Within minutes we needed to make a decision. What should we do? What is going on? Do we take him? Do we take him? Scrambling to decide, I threw on clothes, now frantic myself with what is happening to him. Do we have enough time to drive him now? And without really having any time to talk it out, we are out in the cold night, struggling to strap him in the car seat.


The guys from Geneva arrived and took over. They saw the same things we did, and remarked that they could hear Cooper's breathing issues from the doorway. They were great, but as the minutes went on, the frantic started to settle down, and Cooper was less in distress than he had been just minutes earlier. We were left standing around, kind of looking at each other, not really sure what had happened and what to do now. We remarked that it would be nice if Bruce was around, but they had gone to Seattle for the evening. Not but a few minutes went by but the door flew open and Bruce stormed into the house. The scene created must have been so difficult for them to arrive to. Ambulance, fire truck, flashing lights, a gurney by the front door....

The distress in Coop's poor little lungs was evident to everyone. His throat had been constricted, his chest muscles involved and sucking. However, as the serious symptoms abated, the questions remaining unanswered. With nothing more to do, the Geneva guys headed out, and never have I been more thankful for their presence in our neighborhood. Bruce continued to rule things out. We thought maybe Coop had aspirated a piece of one of his chewed up dubbies. Maybe that was the sounds being heard. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

Although Bruce said that based on what he was seeing we could probably sleep on "it" tonight, it was an uneasy second "bedtime" for us all. Coop slept with us at the foot of our bed, snoring and deeply congested, but breathing. What a treasure we tend to take for granted, right?

In the morning, it was supposed to be business as usual. It was a Friday, I had work, John would stay home, Bruce would check Coop again to see what we should do with him. However, there was a shell shocked feeling to our emotions. Such a seemingly life and death struggle just hours earlier, decisions and fears, chaos and desperation....now....normal? What happened? Did that really happened? Did our little boy struggle so much, did we call 911, did the medics have to come?

Ultimately, Bruce believes it was Sub-something or other Croup that hit him. The term would indicate the region of his throat the virus hit (maybe?), and the swelling that nearly shut down his airway. Higher up in his throat, a different bacteria...it could have resulted in an emergency trach. Bruce said he did a lot of those. Oh, man. Thankful it was probably sub-something or the other that got him...I guess. No funky sounds in the lungs by the morning, and Coop just had the typical barking croup cough and hoarse voice. I think even today I am still shaking my head at how it went from nothing, to over the moon crazy, to nothing....so quickly.

Untitled, a photo by whippski on Flickr.

Fashionist-O

Having boys, one would think I wouldn't have to worry about clothes, styles and opinions on fashion. You would be wrong. Cooper definitely has his ideas on what he should wear, when he should wear it, and how many times he will change this on you all day long. Multiple wardrobe changes are his norm, and it is not uncommon to see a trail throughout the house of discarded clothing items, or more often than not whole outfits piled up here and there.