Counting to Eight

My Cayman Island adventure started Thursday morning at 6:30 when I left the cab at Kennedy and stopped being my own woman, becoming instead surrogate mother to 8 children for a week.  Eight children.  Me, a woman who barely manages to take care of herself.

Are you sensing the danger yet?

My relization of what a mistake it might be for me to have volunteered to do this escort thing came as soon as we boarded the plane and a certain member of our group let his very loud and unruly true colors show.  Oh yes, I’m sure everyone on that flight was in love with us by the time we touched down at Owen Roberts.

So … Grand Cayman … day three … and we’ve all survived!  I lost two of my kids right away on the first day.  I’m serious.  They thought it would be funny to hide so they could jump out and scare me … only they hid somewhere that I didn’t walk, and then just stayed there while I was busy having 47 heart attacks walking through the rest of the hotel with my other kid (the crowd pleaser from the flight, of course) looking and looking and looking for them.  But they finally came out of hiding and were found and I was so relieved, I forgot to be angry with them.  Good times.

No, but really: good times.  I’m having a great time!  It’s not Jamaica, but it’s hot and tropical and the water has the same wonderful blues …  And not every place has to be Jamaica, right?  But I like it here.  I think I’d like it more if I could see it the way I usually travel rather than being in a big fancy hotel and getting driven to each location by a tour bus, but I’m still liking it enormously.  I went snorkeling twice yesterday, only the 4th and 5th times I’ve ever done that.  I have an abject, claustrophic terror of snorkeling, but I’m also fascinated by getting to see all the stuff you get to see, so I really want to do it.  And yesterday didn’t disappoint.  I need an underwater camera!  I saw so many gorgeous things.  Aside from all the beautiful fish and the fabulousness of the reef itself, the most wonderful was to see seafan coral alive and well.  I’ve only ever seen it dead.  It’s so beautiful.  And maybe you knew it could be purple, but I didn’t.

Most amusing and nervous-making was Stingray City.  I’ll share the photos once I’m home.  Wish I had sound to go with them, so you could hear what our boat captain called the language of Stingray City: non-stop screaming!

The surprise for me is the exhaustion that comes from worrying about the kids, the constant counting and counting and counting them to be sure no one’s lost or left behind, the hyper-vigilance that drains me of all energy.

I have this afternoon off from the children, however, so it’s time to go hang out by the pool with a glass of fruit punch and work on my Camani tan.


6 thoughts on “Counting to Eight

  1. Re: the disappearing thing. You know kids really love you when they play games with you. Your heart is ready to give out from exhaustion over one of their games? Yeah, they love you then. 🙂


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