“We’re selling the boat. Trying not to be completely sad about it.”
That was my Facebook status yesterday as my husband pulled the boat out of the garage to clean it up so we could sell it. It was the first time the boat had been outside of that garage in five years.
That’s when we moved here. It’s been five years. It’s actually been six years since we’ve used the boat. Clearly, it’s time to sell it.
But it’s making me very sad.
I’m not usually the sentimental type to get attached to things. There isn’t much in his house that I’m connected too, except maybe our green recliner. But there’s a lot of emotion tied up for me with that boat. The first (only?) vacation that Tim and I took together as a couple was a week on a New Hampshire lake with friends. Summers were spent out on that boat – camping at the marina at night and lazily floating in the sandbar during the day, working on crossword puzzles and reading the newspaper. Much of our pre-kid time was centered on boating.
I suppose there’s a lot of emotion tied up with boats in general for me. I remember being twelve or thirteen and going to get my family’s first ski boat. We picked it up on a particularly windy day and took hours motoring back to our marina, closely hugging the shores of Lake Champlain. My father taught us how to waterski off of that boat, and how to navigate the choppy waters of the lake. We would spend weekends with my cousins going back and forth in a tiny cove on the New York side of the lake. He taught me how to dock the boat and how to tie the knots to hold it tight.
I also remember it being a money pit and it needing constant maintenance. As we got older we used the boat less and less. When the marina fees jumped in price, we no longer kept the boat at the dock. The more time it took to take the boat out, the less time we actually used it. And eventually, my parents got rid of it. It just wasn’t worth it anymore.
And that’s where we are now with our boat. We’re now over two hours from our old lake. What was once a manageable trip is now a ridiculous undertaking. Under the best of circumstances. Hours in the car for potentially a short amount of time on the water. Hundreds of dollars in fuel now that gas prices are so high. Boat insurance. Time spent just getting the boat ready for the trip. Add in the unpredictable nature of autism and SPD and three young boys who have never been boating before…
I’m not blaming this on my son’s autism and SPD. But I can’t say that it’s not a factor in all of this. Because autism and SPD are a part of him and a part of our family. It has changed how we view…everything. It’s weaved through everything we plan and do together. I can’t just dismiss it and think he’ll be fine. And I can’t dismiss how my other two kids would react if my son falls apart.
Sigh.
There are dozens of reasons to get rid of the boat. There’s just one reason to keep it.
I feel like I’m giving up. I feel like I’ve failed.
Boating as a family has always been my dream. We don’t ski, or camp, or spend summers at the beach. Boating was going to be our thing. I had visions of spending time with the boys at a rented house on a lake every summer. Watching Tim teach them how to swim, and ski, and tie knots. Pictures of them driving the boat around the cove. Laughing as we told them it was okay to pee in the lake.
Selling the boat feels like I’m selling that dream. It’s the final realization that our family just can’t do all the things I thought we would do. We already skip family gatherings, birthday parties, and other events because it’s just too hard. I held tight to that boat in the garage because it was holding onto the last symbol of what I thought our family was supposed to be.
Friends have been telling us to sell the boat for years. “Wouldn’t you like to have your car in the garage?”, they’d ask.
I don’t care about having a spot for my car. I care about finding that one activity that pulls my family together as one.
I’m trying to see this as a dream deferred. It’s just not the right time for our family to own a boat. I know we can find something else that we can all do together. Something that works for every single member of our five person crew.
And maybe someday the time will be right again for us to have a boat. Maybe when the kids are older. Or maybe when they have kids.
I’m going to let the boat go.
It’s just a boat, right? It’s just a boat.
“It’s not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me
Sailing
Takes me away
To where I’ve always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free” – Sailing by Christopher Cross
April 25, 2011 at 12:14 pm
((((hugs)))
That’s all I know to say.
April 25, 2011 at 12:21 pm
thank you. I know.
April 25, 2011 at 12:19 pm
Swimming and horseback riding are among the best therapies for SPD. Swimming especially. Maybe you’ll get another boat when you’re rezady. 🙂
April 25, 2011 at 12:21 pm
I know. We just have to get our son over his fear of water first. It takes us over 30 mins just to get him into a pool.
April 25, 2011 at 1:36 pm
Speedo used to make a flotation suit, it was like a drysuit (zippered spandex, with short sleeves and reached halfway to the knee) but it was padded so the kiddo wouldn’t sink. When Evan outgrew his, we found a vest much like it. The spandex is also great sensory input. 🙂 He felt completely confident in the water, and we transitioned to a swim noodle with no problems. He’s still deathly afraid of getting his face wet so there have been no lessons or anything, but I’d like to think we’re still moving forward. 🙂
April 25, 2011 at 12:21 pm
I just read about a charity that takes kids with autism sailing for the day. If that is supposed to be the dream, one day you’ll make it happen. I have a feeling though that you’re just making space for something new for you all to enjoy, and that will come.
In the meantime: sigh. Hugs. Want to watch the boats together at Boston Harbor?
April 25, 2011 at 1:09 pm
Making space for something new. I like that. And yes yes to boats in the harbor…
April 25, 2011 at 12:22 pm
I know. I just know. One more thing that’s not going as we dreamed and planned. I hope you find a new “boat.”
xoxoxoo
April 25, 2011 at 1:09 pm
Thank you. I’m sure we will.
April 25, 2011 at 12:27 pm
Think of it as just not the right time to keep the boat. It doesn’t mean you’ll never have one again. There will be other boats. When the boys are older you can always try renting one. Who knows what type of family vacations you will have in the future!
April 25, 2011 at 1:10 pm
That’s exactly how i’m trying to look at it. In the meantime, wanna buy a boat? 🙂
April 25, 2011 at 12:53 pm
So teary, but I know you will find that special something of an activity that will be right for all of you – and it may be boating after all. Keep the life jackets for the future.
April 25, 2011 at 1:11 pm
Thank you. Not sure the jackets will fit by the time we’re ready. Then again, considering how our kids eat…they might.
April 25, 2011 at 1:01 pm
Oh sweetie. I am so sorry. I feel your pain so deeply. A dream deferred, like so many others. We didn’t bargain for this life, that’s for sure, but what a wonderful opportunity for new adventures in lands yet unseen.
April 25, 2011 at 1:12 pm
Thank you. That’s what I’m hoping…
April 25, 2011 at 2:06 pm
Lovely post. I understand about dreams deferred. Like others said, though, it makes way for new possibilities. We just have to be open to it.
(I’m still looking for our family’s *thing* by the way.)
April 25, 2011 at 3:07 pm
I SO get that. But you know? Parenting is by definition a process of dealing with what’s in front of you, and letting go of control in so many ways. Boat or no boat, at the end of the day you’re a part of a strong healthy family, one which is doing well with being dealt a hand you could have never imagined. I am learning (late…I’m 47) that letting go of “stuff” which is not being used opens up room for SO much else … it’s a very good thing.
Though yeah, those dreams? They’re hard to put a lid on…
April 25, 2011 at 3:44 pm
I’m sorry. 😦
April 25, 2011 at 4:09 pm
This is interesting because I have been feeling the same way lately. Not about a boat, but wanting something “normal” that can be ours as a family. This weekend did not go well. We visited family and Danny got overstimulated, etc and I just wanted one thing to go right, one thing to be normal. I guess that’s MY dream deferred.
I’m sorry you have to sell it. It sucks!
April 26, 2011 at 7:08 am
You will get there, maybe not with an activity that EVERYONE loves equally, but an activity that you all enjoy. (I LOVE the outdoors and loved camping as a child–my sister loves resorts!) Hugs.
April 26, 2011 at 4:44 pm
Such a hard decision to have to make especially as boating has always been part of your life. Hard to let go of your dream. Things have changed and in time you’ll find a new dream for all your family to enjoy;-) I know you will.
((xx)) Jazzy
April 26, 2011 at 8:45 pm
i so understand.
we go through seasons. this is not sailing season for you and yours, but it may be someday. until then i know you’ll find a way to make the most of these precious days for your family.
May 1, 2011 at 7:16 am
I know you know. The “seasons” analogy is perfect. Life comes in cycles and we’ll get back there someday. Thank you.
April 27, 2011 at 8:56 pm
I know. So many dreams and plans seem to have been tossed out the window with our diagnosis too. So much of this feels like a grieving process. I wish we could have coffee together. Instead I’ll just read your blog while I drink mine. :~)
May 1, 2011 at 7:15 am
drinking mine right now as well. Thank you.
April 28, 2011 at 9:34 pm
Yes, dreams that are deferred…..dreams that are grieved…then new dreams found…..for now it is dreams that are grieved….please know you are not alone….we have done the same….please know you are being held as you watch the boat sail away…..I am sorry…
May 1, 2011 at 7:15 am
thank you 🙂
April 30, 2011 at 10:09 pm
We have a boat that we just put up for sale too. I understand exactly what you are saying, sometimes I think people would be shocked to know that we never even eat dinner all at one table. We can’t, my daughter just can’t handle that much activityl. Some day I would love to sit at the table with my husband and kids, something a million other families do each day without thinking about it.
Maybe boating isn’t the key for either of us but I hope one of these days we both find that one special thing.
May 1, 2011 at 7:14 am
We don’t all eat dinner together either. We try, but some nights it’s too much. For everyone. I think we will both find that thing, and when we find it, it will be even that much more special. Let’s keep each other posted on our hunt 🙂