12. Take my kids to the beach by myself.
Well, that was an experience. At 4:30 the kids and I got into our bathers and walked down to the beach. Being windy, the waves were fierce and I was rather worried for Connor. He's so little and so fearless and so sick. In fact, at one point I asked him if he'd rather not go to the beach because he could barely stop vomiting, but he shook his head and said, "No. We both have goals. Let's meet them."
So, off we set. For the next 90 minutes Connor was vomit-free. The waves were huge and never-ending and for my boy, this was paradise.
For me it was a nightmare. For about 50 minutes it was just me and the kids. I'm not a strong swimmer, so I have absolutely no faith in my ability to rescue them if one gets pulled under and out. All I saw was long stretches of nothing and an ocean that had become my worst enemy. I wanted to pack the kids up, march home and call it a success. After all, we'd come to the beach, I'd paddled with them, they'd got wet. Let's shake hands and call it even.
But I didn't. I persevered. In time, Lee came down and joined us and we continued on for about another 45 minutes. I became more adventurous and stepped out into the ocean, kids close behind. I got dunked, rolled and pulled up onto the shore.
I hated it.
But, I also loved it. I felt so free and so strong. I had an amazing time with my kids and with my family and I came out of it with such a sense of accomplishment.
And I never have to do it again.
Oh, and 2 hours later, Connor is still fine.