Life at the Edges

I've been on hiatus from blogging, enjoying the less intense family summer schedule and some very intense personal projects.

We spent the last week of June at Fort Morgan for our annual family beach vacation. This one entirely made up for last year's oil-spill induced Galveston fiasco. Although there were tiny beads of pulverized oil in the surf, and a few tar balls here and there, I've seen that from time to time over my lifetime, and overall the beach was clean and the water was clear and lovely. We had almost no jellies the whole week, which meant the boys played with abandon in the waves, which were larger than usual. Henry especially took the the water really well and is very proud to tell the story of how he lost his two front teeth: "I got my teeth knocked out in a boogie board accident." It was pretty traumatic at the time; even though both teeth were loose, it was a painful way to lose them, and emotionally I had not yet come to terms with the dramatic change in my firstborn's face that losing his front baby teeth would mean. But it is awfully cute to hear him lisp.

After we returned from the beach, I immediately launched into this crazy novel-writing experiment: 1600 words a day for 30 days = something that could possibly call itself a novel. It's all based on the book No Plot, No Problem! and the web site www.nanowrimo.org. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life. The only times I could write were at night after the kids went to bed, when my creative juices were at their greatest ebb, and during Dean's brief naptimes on the weekends, which is usually when the rest of my life gets organized. I stopped reading books, stopped calling friends, stopped watching anything but The Daily Show at night, and fell behind on some thank you notes and wedding gift orders. But, at the end of the 30 days, I had indeed produced 50,386 words. The next step is to wait a few more weeks and then read it over with a critical eye and decide if it merits the months of rewriting that would be required to turn it into something I could send to publishers. I am frankly enjoying the freedom to not think about that right now. I feel really proud of myself that I made a commitment to a personal goal and kept to it, and at this point, that feels like enough.

I am also enjoying reading and socializing again. One of the first books I delved into was a recent used find called Last Child in the Woods. Matthew likes to point out that I am easily brainwashed by certain prescriptive books, and he is partly right, but it's also true that I only read books that I think will enhance my understanding of something I already believe. So, in this case, this wonderful book is making me feel more committed than ever to making sure our boys experience the natural world and making me more aware of how current choices in urban planning and park funding and litigation are affecting the world they will grow up in and someday my grandkids wil hopefully grow up in. The book inspired me to take the boys down to the levee in the evenings last week. For decades Algiers Point has been partly surrounded by two levees. When the river swelled a couple of months ago, the Army Corps decided to breach the outermost levee. Now that the river has gone down, this has revealed several 12-15 foot mounds of dirt that previously made up the levee. Past the dirt mounds is the riverbank, which at this time of year is like a silty beach. The boys love going down there at sunset, throwing rocks into the river, watching the dragonflies, waving at the enormous tankers and impossibly long barges, and of course, climbing the dirt mounds. I try not to think about how toxic the dirt itself might be; instead, I've been appreciating the fact that these may be the only mounds of dirt in the whole city that kids can access without a landowner forcing them off. This little area, just a five minute walk from our front door, is the perfect example of the kind of "nature at the edges" that the author, Richard Louv, talks about in the book. Yes, I want to take the kids camping and hiking and to the great nature parks of our state and country, but I also want them to have access to the little islands of nature that we are lucky enough to find exist right in our neighborhood.

It is unfortunate that I am reading this book at the hottest time of year in New Orleans, when we spend most of our day times indoors, but Matthew and I do make an effort to shift our routines based on the seasons, such as they are down here. This summer we've been eating dinner earlier and then going outside when it is the tiniest bit more bearable. He likes to ride his trials bike while the boys and I play in the baby pool or hunt for frogs or we all take a walk to the levee. In the fall, we'll try to do more ambitious stuff, maybe go on a camping trip with some friends, maybe take the boys canoeing and fishing. I am ready for the nip in the air that I know is still months away.

I am less ready for the uptick in daily stress that comes with school starting next week. SEtting aside that aspect, I am excited to see how Henry handles being a "big kid" in his Montessori class, and how Dean takes to the more structured environment at his new school. They've both made great strides this summer. Henry has been diving into books and really getting stronger when it comes to new experiences. Last week, at our last neighborhood concert on the levee, he was at first disappointed when he realized the friend he had hoped to play with had another kid with him whom Henry did not know -- but after sitting for a while and observing their play, he finally whispered to me, "Okay, I'm going to go try to make friends and fit in," and he did, with great success. Dean is really swimming now and can get himself to the side and out of the pool on his own -- not a guarantee that my nightmares won't still come true, but I am feeling a little more reassured. He continues to delight everyone with his dancing. At that same concert, he danced until his little legs almost gave out. A friend remarked that he wasn't sure he had ever danced as a child growing up in Florida, and how awesome it is that our kids here in NOLA give themselves over to music with such abandon. As miserably hot as it is right now, there are a lot of reasons we choose to live down here. Music and the river have been big reminders lately.