If I convinced you in an earlier article that living aboard does not necessitate huddling together under one duvet with chattering teeth during the Winter months (each to his own, of course) I must continue with my campaign and assuage any doubts you may harbour regarding our children's safety. I have my own doubts about how 'safe' it is to feature them on the internet though, so I shall hereby refer to them as Port and Starboard.
When I announced to my NCT group that I was expecting a second baby, someone said "Where are you going to put it?!" A friend of a friend asked, "I hope you have plenty of climbing space?" This always makes me chuckle when I see Port climbing up the saloon wall behind the sofa hanging onto the sturdy curtain rail to wave at friends arriving and departing, his smiley face framed by the porthole. He can see all the way to the end of the pontoon through that porthole. There's nothing like a moat and drawbridge between one and one's visitors.
The two main concerns that our friends and acquaintances are quick to express are the obvious lack of space and their fears for our children's safety. I must admit I find the second concern slightly insulting. Do they really think that our brains are so pickled with rum that we aren't aware of the risks of living on or near water? I would argue that we are more aware of the environmental hazards around us than the average parent when they open their front door onto the road or send their children out to play in a garden full of natural disasters waiting to happen. So I point out the obvious - that our son (Port), nearly 2, and daughter (Starboard), nearly 3 months, are not allowed on deck on their own. That's all there is to it. The deck is not a playground and our children don't see it as such. Of course they need and receive help getting on and off the boat and as they grow up I suspect it will be their eager land lubbering friends who will need to be reminded of the strict boundaries and the important role of the life jacket. It's all about awareness. Ours and theirs.
Once inside the boat, Golden Mean is in fact very 'child friendly'. She is a sailing barge and you don't want precious trinkets falling off shelves onto your head when you put in a last minute jibe. You also don't want the cooker or the wood burning stove to slide across the room and pin you against the gas locker, so they are fixed to the floor as well. Your under-the-kitchen-sink cupboards containing the hazardous substances used to rid your kettle of scale and your drains of mouldy remains have those little fiddly locks built in, which require a level of fine motor skills that Port is far from acquiring. Even I struggle after a glass or too of wine. Vittles, glasses, crockery (it's Wedgewood 'Flying Cloud' with tall ships that magically sail across your plate when you've eaten up all your supper) and even CDs and books all have their own batten able hatches to hide behind. Even the most persistent toddler would have difficulty accessing them. Our beds are enclosed on three sides so you can only fall out of one. Nobody has, yet.
You get the picture, I don't want to labour the point.
So let's attack the space issue. This is a biggy, a topic for many a lively dinner party debate. I would challenge anyone who says that living in a big space with several floors is in any way practical, pleasurable or relaxing with two small children. For one thing the efficiency of the boat layout means you have everything to hand. I can cook whilst watching my children play. I can change Starboard's nappy in the bedroom without lifting a single stair gate, transversing floors to retrieve the forgotten Sudocrem and leaving the baby unattended whilst I go to another room and wash my hands.
Port and Starboard have a paddling pool. On a hot day it goes in the cockpit which is up a few steps from our living quarters. It's under canvas so shady when hot and I can keep an eye on them splashing from the kitchen or living room. This weekend Port went in the paddling pool during a huge rainstorm. I don't think he noticed. A friend once asked when we were going to our 'cottage in the country?' When we do fancy a change of scene there are no suitcases to pack, we just untie and take our efficient living space with us. If you have children I think you will appreciate the small luxuries that I describe. Simply keeping everybody clean, fed and entertained can become one huge practical nightmare if you aren't equipped for it.
Even if you swallowed all this, I know some of you might be thinking that's all very well but aren't you living on top of each other? I could (and might) write another article about living in a small space, but I will just summarise for now by saying that we simply enjoy eachother's company. We have all that we need to live comfortably, personally I would say luxuriously but that's a matter of opinion. When our families and friends come we spend quality time together; eating, talking, just being. And they keep coming. There is a special kind of interaction that I do believe is unique to the boat. Port and Starboard will be a part of a family dynamic in way that just wouldn't exist if they disappeared into a playroom all day to stare at a PS whatever. They won't be 'deprived' of TV and the Internet. But I'll be able to see what they're looking at whilst making the coffee.
I hope they will learn tolerance and understanding from sharing a small space with the people closest to them. When they grow up they'll be able to decide for themselves what kind of environment they want to live in, but I can say with all my heart that I don't think we could give them a more inspiring and magical beginning than growing up on Golden Mean.
The Captain
