Well the anchorage at Isla Isabela is pretty terrible, and with a day of light headwinds promised we decided to just up anchor in the middle of the night and head out. The alarm went off at midnight, we fired up the engine and waited to see if the kids would wake. They didn’t so I proceeded to bring in the anchor. They slept right through that too. Good kids.

Eight knots on the nose, no swell, flat seas, nearly full moon, works for us. Of course Lowe being Lowe he was up twenty minutes later and didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Seriously, the rest of the night. The kid’s nighttime sleeping habits are a complete mess. Ali is cracking up. Not funny ha-ha cracking up. Cracking up.

Ouest was dead to the world until five when she woke with a hacking cough that wasn’t a cough at all, but instead was a dry heave that quickly progressed into a wet heave. She is our little seasick baby, no doubt about that. She was fine the day before with Dramamine, but didn’t get any before this trip since we left while she slept. I mean who gets seasick while they sleep? Poor thing. The amazing thing is how well she handles it. She pukes and then acts as if nothing happened. I held her with me outside for half an hour then crushed up her pill and slipped it to her with a small glass of juice. Then she fell asleep on top of me on the couch. It didn’t take long for that juice to come back and bite me in the ass. She lost all of that right on my chest and followed it up with a bit more on the floor. Remember Lowe still isn’t sleeping at this point so the boat is in chaos but we’re trying to remain cool so as not to upset Ouest, because like I said, she doesn’t seem to think there is anything unusual about throwing up in the middle of the night. Anyway, we eventually got cleaned up, and Ouest got another hour of sleep on the couch before the sun lit up the room. She then spent the rest of the day happy as a clam.

Did I also mention that Lowe had another tooth pop through today? Honestly this whole cruising with two young kids thing is a little insane. It’s easily the most difficult thing either of us has ever done. Everything, and I mean everything, is a challenge. A friend of ours sailing with her two kids said the other day that every passage, no matter how short and seemingly enjoyable, is a mission. That’s the right word, mission. We have to have a game plan in place, then we have to execute it flawlessly. Which we never do. Just the simple act of not getting the anchor to bite on the first drop and having to spend an extra five minutes maneuvering and dropping it a second time can throw the entire boat into a fit of tears and pleading, to say nothing of the kids reaction. So, just for the record, let it never be said that I implied that cruising with kids is easy. Or smart. Or sane. Yet somehow at the end of the day it still feels right.

So after two weeks of rolly, crap anchorages, we pulled into Mazatlan after ninety miles and made a beeline for the marina. Just like that we need a short recuperation period. After Ali put Lowe to bed tonight she came out and stood there unsure of what she was forgetting to do. Then it occurred to her that she had become so used to wedging a pillow up against his door to keep it from sliding open in the swell that it had become part of her nighttime ritual. We need a breather.