"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.......one, two, three, four, five, six, seven...." muttering in a half whisper, this was my oft-repeated chant whenever I'd venture out with my seven children in tow; especially if I were solo-parenting. Though by the time the seventh baby had arrived the oldest was fifteen. The counting to five a few years prior was a bit more intense.
Two of my boys got left "home alone" as toddlers; not for long, but long enough to make that instant pit in the stomach. Another time, our then teenaged second daughter Elisabeth left the house to go to a scheduled babysitting job for a neighbor. I had completely spaced that she had told me she was leaving. Something about calling the police to report her missing must have triggered my memory. Or was it her dad she had told....I honestly can't remember. Baby brain is a real thing.
Several weeks ago the kids got on a group chat and discussed all of us going on a trip to Mexico. So much cold and snow this season, it gave us all something to plan for to help take our minds off the never-ending gray and freezing temperatures.
Eighteen of us. Most of us met at the Salt Lake International Airport to take a flight to Los Angeles; with Conrad flying in from Hawaii where he's currently living/working (yes the irony of leaving Hawaiian beaches to vacation on Mexican beaches is not lost on me). Bronson serving a mission in the Philippines and not in a frozen tundra made us all feel a little solace that he wasn't with us.
Passports, luggage and sunscreen in hand, we boarded the ship. Two days at sea before stepping onto any sand. Lots of time pool-side for some much needed Vitamin D and (sea), with the littles spending the majority of their time in the hot-tub. An early dinner time with all of us taking up two large tables. The kindest wait-staff bringing the standard "cruise food", and the grand-babies bringing the entertainment. Evening entertainment with ice-skating, dancing, karaoke (Dave giving me a friendly reminder that it's polite to clap and encourage those singing not necessarily laugh out loud at those singing, but man.....the liquid courage hits strong with some people. Which is why you will never find me standing with a mic in front of a crowd singing "Livin' on a Prayer".
Our first stop, Cabo San Lucas. Where the rich and famous love to hang out, and for good reason. Beautiful city. Beautiful water. Good food. Friendly people. Our time here was much too short. We had a family lunch at a local restaurant, with Taylor ordering squid in some sort of red sauce and the less adventurous ordering some version of the more familiar tacos.
If you are a person that listens watches any more than five minutes of news or social media per a twenty-four hour period, you will likely get a sense that the entire world is going to implode, explode, or just in general go to hell in a hand-basket. A little too much time on-line had me a bit hesitant to visit our next port Mazatlán. I am so relieved we grabbed our fanny-packs and sunglasses and headed into town. What an incredibly beautiful place. The architecture, the people, and the general spirit of the place will live long in my memory and I hope to return soon. The food market was so fascinating and so different from our grocery stores. I ordered a freshly squeezed grapefruit juice to sip on while we strolled the cobble-stone streets.
The kids and grandkids did their own thing, and Dave and I walked into the town square. We bumped into a Canadian who had a blue t-shirt with "volunteer selling nothing just here to help" written on it. He had a few maps in his hand. We approached him and asked what he'd recommend we do while we had just a few hours. He marked a map with his suggestions, and set out to follow the blue line to where the X marked the spot.
Puerto Vallarta. More high-rise type buildings and restaurants that look like you might be in a So-Cal beach city. It was our last port before turning around to head home. We all had various ideas of how we'd spend our time. Scuba-diving was on Wyatt's agenda. The beach was where Elisabeth, Jonathon and their littles were headed. The rest of us were going to do a little shopping, eating and then beaching. The boys (well boys to me but I guess I have to admit they're adult men now) would hang with whomever. Eli, would meet up with us after I was done shopping for some vanilla, chocolate, and jewelry. And again, my memory of how the events leading up to us wondering where Eli was and our portion of the crew waiting for him to meet us actually happened. Nevertheless, he wasn't showing up. None of us had good cell service. Eli didn't have his phone with him.
Instant pit in my stomach. Along with some panicky tears. Because when it comes to your children, it doesn't really matter their age. They are forever your babies. And when something isn't quite right my mind goes instantly to worse case scenarios. The six-feet under scenarios.
Conrad said he'd head out to look for him if we'd just go ahead and go on with our beach time. Dave reminded me that the ship was large enough to be visible from just about anywhere and Eli would certainly know to head back there.
We ate the food.
We did the shopping. We went to the beach.
We saw the whales. The littles built sand castles and I reminded myself of a time when there was no such thing as a cell phone, and that parents often lost track of their children for the entire day. And they did it knowing full well they had no idea where their children were.
Apparently, Eli was getting buried in the sand by Remi. (nearly six feet under)
Dave says, they need to make a movie called "Finding Emo". Although Eli knew all along exactly where he was. Just on a different beach.
There is not one thing I'd change about having a large family.
"Allyson, go get Daddy and tell him it's time for lunch." I was three years old. The short dirt path from our home in the Chiricahua Mountains led to the Park Service office where he worked as a National Park Ranger. As far as my memory goes back, I really only have the memory of my mother's re-telling of what happened. Every day we'd have a late lunch/early dinner and she'd send me down the path to let him know it was time to eat. On this particular day I figured I'd stop by a near-by house, either to play with a puppy, or ask to play with a little friend or some such thing. We'll never know because after a small search party was sent to look for me, I was eventually found; sleeping in the sun on their back porch. I knew where I was. I just didn't tell anyone. I'm sure I'd seen my older siblings coming and going at free will every day and figured the same would be fine for me. Free range child-raising. No cell phones. No cable news. No pod-casts.
The world can seem so big.
Putting my faith and trust in Christ doesn't make bad things disappear but it definitely gives me perspective.
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