We’ve sailed away for a year and a day

Oh Heavenly waves, I never want to see dry land again.

Yesterday afternoon we officially set sail. As Rex likes to say, we’re “off to see the world!”

Since our move to Germany we’ve been hearing that the fastest and cheapest way to see things over here is by ship. I have decided that I don’t care if I see anything more than the railing of this baby, I want to live aboard forever.

Today was our first full day at sea. After breakfast Jason and I got friendly with the Kid Club, a little bonus built into our ticket price.

Here’s the thing about traveling with four small children ages 8 and under, we spend so much time throwing goldfish crackers at them and trying to keep everyone from peeing in public that our moments of vacation happiness are about as common as a clean bathroom in Turkey.

But this morning at 9:47 we dropped our kids off and tried not to do a jig on our way out the door. Granted, we didn’t get to leave the baby but without the three oldest we felt like honeymooners.

The best thing about this cruise ship is how incredibly young I feel. Around here if you don’t have cataracts you’re positively juvenile; the crowd is definitely leaning aft in the age department. I thought it was interesting at breakfast that they didn’t seem able to keep the prune bowl full, very telling.

Then again, cruise constipation is no laughing matter and there is definitely fiber to that kind of wisdom. (Too much? Yeah, me too.)

And so we spent the morning doing our number one favorite pastime. We played Settlers. Long live Catan!

We picked up the kids around three only to discover that they were invited back for dinner and evening entertainment. The kid zone? Open until 11:30 pm. For serious. I don’t think my kids have even heard of eleven-thirty before today.

We went to dinner with the grown-ups and would have enjoyed a long and leisurely meal if Georgia (14 mos) hadn’t spent the first ten minutes yelling for a hot dog only to follow it up ten minutes later with her lung busting version of “ALL DONE!” while shaking her hands vigorously at anyone and everyone who passed by.

And here I sit, 9:35 at night, with my three youngest snoring away in their bunks and my husband trying not to doze so I can keep him up long enough to go dancing at 11:30 when the discotec opens. Please sweetheart, stay awake. Just two more hours…

**Later that night, or should I say early the next morning…

Holy dancing Batman, I think Jason really does love me after all.

Even though he knows how to do a decent number of traditional social dances (cha cha, two step, waltz) getting Jason to cut any kind of rug is nearly impossible. We’ve had epic fights over his dancing refusal and my misbehaving feet.

We took off to get the kids around eleven planning to dance for 20-30 minutes before picking them up. I had previously scoped out the situation and found a great little floor with a fantastic piano dude. Lots of people dancing, we’d fit right in.

Of course when we got there the floor was empty. This was quickly followed by Jason having a public display of musicality panic attack. People might WATCH us. We took the elevator to the top floor and stood over the railing, looking seven floors down while we debated what to do.

I tried to get him to dance with me up there in private but he wouldn’t let go of that blasted railing. I gave it up without a fuss (he was so cute gripping the railing as he fought his little dancing demons) and we picked up the kids. Once everyone was snug in their beds and the clock was winding down I decided to get ready for bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked, “Aren’t we going dancing?” I didn’t have to be asked twice.

And thus commenced my favorite night ever. We danced the night away, literally, and he made me feel beautiful and adored and romanced and all those things mommy’s really need to feel once in a while.