I’m still not entirely sure what to say about Burning Man, nor what pictures to show here. My heart is full of love and gratitude. We have endured and celebrated nature, the elements, life, humanity, friendship, silliness, joy. My impressions of Burning Man are swirly and colorful.

Nevada desert on the way to the playa

Sunset after a brief rainstorm

I am so glad we went, and especially glad that we camped with so many wonderful friends. Our campmates were super fun and very patient with our small taggers-on. They helped us look out for the boys, entertain them, and graciously shared their “space yogurts” (yogurt in a tube) and other goodies that were novel and exciting. Two friends even volunteered to babysit one night so Ian and I could have a much-needed date!

Our children were brave in the face of not only a hostile environment but also a Saturnalian one, where grown-ups generally don’t behave as usual, where instead they act silly, dye their hair pink, dress in funny clothes (or none at all), and spend their time playing, adventuring, or lazing about. It was a place where you might gleefully talk with strangers and give a made-up playa name just for the fun of playing at being someone else. Best of all, our boys got to see that play is for everyone, that all human beings need long stretches of time to do nothing, or only what we want to do, and that these moments are crystalline and pure. Climbing, running, jumping, dancing, flying kites, making friends, laughing and telling jokes, creating art, falling in love, being—these are the things that make life worth living.

Lucas climbing a pole on top of the Nexus nightclub

Super fun Genesha art car that passed us by one day

A dust-weary Asher, me on the afternoon of the burn, and our dashing Agent Daddy

Lucas fearlessly walking a tightrope about 10 feet off the ground

This tuna art car drove by during one of our family bike outings

Asher’s very first kite-flying experience; hold on tight!

My boys playing boccie ball

Decorating our parasols like jellyfish; Lucas jumping on a trampoline; Asher dancing with the Salmon of Knowledge

Lucas and Asher also got to see, and we ourselves were reminded, that challenges are worth facing because the rewards are often great. Braving our fears or walking out into the unknown is our task, our surest course to learning who we are and what’s important to us. By purposefully venturing into a desert of nothingness, we fill it with our hopes and dreams and remake ourselves. I watched both of my children, in their own individual ways and according to their ages, encounter their limitations and push past them, gaining confidence and respect along the way.

It was a different kind of Burning Man for me and Ian. Having our kids along was a ton of work and we spent much (most?) of our time making sure that their needs were being met. Keeping two sensitive children safe and happy, hydrated and fed, rested and slathered with sunblock in the desert is pretty much a constant effort. Ian worked ceaselessly to take care of all of us. There was a lot less aimless wandering just to see what there was to see. There were moments I felt despair because I thought I was missing all the fun, but mostly I let that fleeting feeling wash over me and away, and we managed to relax into a new kind of Burning Man experience. We got more sleep this year on the playa than ever before, thanks to the boys’ tuckering out and needing to be home and in bed fairly early. We ate like kings, with lots of fresh produce and barbecued tri-tip dinners. We spent more time near and in camp, which meant time together as a family and with our peeps. We let Burning Man come to us much of the time, and the sweetest folks wandered into our communal shade and spent time with us. Our camp gave out water, drinks, food, advice when it was asked for, a place by the fire, and generally enjoyed that special/sacred hospitality relationship. To all the desert beauties that we met, thank you! You’re my little potato.

Lucas is VERY happy to have seen the Man burn this time! Here he is after the burn on Saturday night. I’ve never been in such a whiteout before! For long moments the Burning Man disappeared from view completely, then eerily reappeared through the waves of flying powder.

The truth is we saw a teensy-tiny slice of Burning Man, maybe 1 percent of what was out there. However, what we saw was wonderful. We are tired and a little sad to have to resume normal life now that we are home again. We are loving this breathtaking miracle called running water. My thoughts are dreamy and I feel like I need a rest after my vacation. I feel a creative pulsing in my veins.

All in all, Best Family Burn Ever.

We are home. We are safe. We have adventured!
I have been trying to think of what to share about our family trip to Burning Man, but I am struggling to find the right words. For now, I’ll leave one photo.

One more day at home
One more day of food shopping
One more day of packing
One more day of costuming
One more day of planning
One more day of waiting

Burning Man: some thrift purchases

Burning Man: chariot for Asher (before picture; it’s way cooler now)

Burning Man: stacks of Lucas’s clothes, folded surprisingly neatly

Burning Man: flags sewing project

Burning Man: painted toes

Burning Man: laser fingers of doom

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Ian and the kiddos spent the weekend getting ready for our vacation in the desert. Fortunately, we don’t have to buy any major items, especially considering Friday’s expensive emergency car repairs. Oy! Our desert equipment needs fixing up in some cases, but we have most of the things we need.

Ian has tons of electroluminescent wire leftover and/or recycled from old Burning Man art projects and he decided to decorate the boys’ nighttime jackets for 1) visibility and safety, and 2) fun!

This is what a creative guy with a thrift-store jacket, a stash of EL wire, and a glue gun can achieve in about an hour. Asher thinks his jacket is the coolest, and Daddy is the BEST! He’s right on both counts.

Our prep work has begun for Burning Man 2010! Yesterday Ian cracked open our Burning Man totes for the first time in several years. This dusty job starts with an inventory of what’s in there, what still works, what needs repairing or replacing, and so on. There’s lots of dust. Lots of list-making. And lots of “Oh wow! I forgot about this!”—not surprising, considering we haven’t been to the playa since Asher was but a bump in my belly (2006).

Asher especially enjoyed the old rainbow umbrella and the wacky glasses Ian pulled out of the totes. Alas, dear Internet, I cannot show you the rest of his “outfit.”

While I have some trepidation about taking my littlest boy out to the desert for a week of experiential silliness and irrepressible elements, I’m starting to get the inkling that he’s going to have a rad time. Outrageous flamboyance  in his genes.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Lucas off to camp, Daddy off to work. Me and Asher with all kinds of time for …

chalk drawings on the patio,

inspection of garden flowers,

and the study of sun and shadow, curves and lines and points …

for free-ranging hens, like Avalanche here,

and for growing pumpkins, green and ghostly white,

for purple morning glories, cana seed pods,

and corn in the morning light. How do we know when it’s ripe?

It’s August, so the crepe myrtles are blooming, bursting!

We’re busy, so the playroom needs sweeping. A million precious things scattered a million different places.

And then the blocks simply must come out to play,

and Mommy simply MUST work a tad.

“Bob the Builder” is fun for Asher. Chapter 8 is not so fun for Mommy.

The leftover Ciro’s pizza simply MUST be Lunch.

“I will take my nap on the couch. For ONE minute. And then you wake me up and say, ‘Asher, it’s time to wake up to play!’”

Mia’s Apple Tree

Cameleon Was A Spy

I’ll be damned! He is asleep on the couch, just like he promised.

More of Chapter 8 in the hush of the sleeping preschooler, who,

miracle of miracles!

awakes with a smile and gentle

pat, pat, pat footfalls,

bear in hand.

We fetch Lucas from summer camp, where he wove a tiny rug.

“When can I go to big-boy summer camp?” Asher asks. Again.

“Buckle up, boys. We’re going to the library,”

where they cannot see the books for the computer that has kid games and a candy-colored keyboard.

But the Carmichael Library is newly remodeled and lovely, as is evident in the rotunda. Mommy wants to take more pictures, but then feels too much like a weirdo.

There’s also too much bickering between Asher and Lucas over the computer, so Mommy decides to check out.

Three books for boys, three books for Daddy.

We visit Great-Grandma and Great-Aunt, who are fine and old and loving and mysterious and bored until we arrive.

They don’t believe we have chickens.

Home again, we collect the day’s eggs. The green ones are lucky, don’t ya know.

And “Toy City” grows and grows some more.

For dinner, tasty snapper, spinach, snap peas, garden tomatoes, à la Daddy.

Sundown.

There’s still time for chicken ranging, feeding, and holding,

for watering the garden,

for watering the boys, giddy and nekkid, screeching and laughing.

“MY FOOT! I stepped in chicken poop!”

Shivering.

Shower. Teeth. Jammies. Stories. Lotion for eczema. Songs. Cuddles.

“You check on us?”

“Oh yes.”

We parents are sometimes allowed to sleep until 7:30 a.m. It has been happening more often lately, especially after a particular recent blowup over the unneccessary waking of Daddy at 5:30 a.m., which seems to have made a difference. Some mornings we wake to find our boys peacefully looking at books on the living-room couch. Other mornings we wake to hear them fighting over something that they both want. We were just telling some friends that lately, more often than not, our mornings have been gentler.

This morning, there was too much excitement in the air. Asher marched around the house shouting, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake UP!” Lucas was a little subtler, quietly saying, “Oh my! Look what the Tomato Fairy has brought us!” He had to repeat it a few times before his sleepy parents clued in.

We came out to the kitchen to find this bounty, this glorious Lughnasadh gift from the Tomato Fairy. (I had no idea there was such a fairy! Imagine my surprise!) There on green and yellow silks rested gorgeous tomatoes from Lucas’s garden, harvested at their peak in the early morning stillness. A little note from the Tomato Fairy reads, “For The Wilson 18 tamatoo.” I’ve never seen anything cuter.

A few of these were eaten with breakfast, then I took the rest outside where the light was better. My little 8-year-old gardener is pleased as punch. Now I’m on the hunt for the perfect dinner recipe for these beauties.

Happy First Fruits!

Some are probably sick of hearing me talk about swim team and swimming lessons, but I just have to crow one more time. My kids are awesome. I am totally proud of them. They met this long-term challenge with so much courage and perseverance.

Lucas raced in three races last Friday at his final swim meet. He worked HARD all summer. He attended 29 practices (out of 32) and two swim meets. The practices he missed were missed because of illness. Going to swim practice four days a week for eight weeks was a lot, and he did so after long days of camp. It was sometimes a struggle and he sometimes wanted to give up, but he kept at it and finished with flying colors, and now he feels great about his accomplishment.

Here’s Lucas warming up for his meet.

Most of the kids just started diving this summer; they have a lot to learn still.  

At the end of the meet, the kids got to jump off the high dive. So brave!

As far as results go, well, Lucas’s team came in second during the 100-yard relay. Lucas finished smack in the middle of the pack in both of his other two races. Not the fastest, not the slowest.

This summer Asher went to 30 20-minute swimming lessons, which he hated at first and learned to enjoy. He also learned how to swim—at least a little ways to get to the side of the pool. He learned streamline position and kicking and floating and blowing bubbles and diving for things underwater.

He can use a kick board or a noodle now and can jump into the pool from the edge or diving board and swim to his instructor.

And he learned that if you work really hard, you can have a lollipop.

I spent about 57 hours poolside and driving so they could do this. It was hard for me to drag them unwillingly along, especially on those hot days when I didn’t want to go either. It was hard to hear “I hate swim team. I wish you would just let me quit.” And it was hard to say in reply, “I’m sorry you feel this way. You made a commitment. And besides, Wilsons don’t quit.” To Asher’s almost constant plea, “WHY do we have to do swimming lessons? Why?” I learned to answer simply, “Because it’s summertime.” Somewhere around the sixth week he stopped asking that. Phew!

Many thanks to the two grandmas who took the boys to swim a handful of times so I didn’t have to do it. That help was a sanity-saver!

We’re all feeling pretty accomplished.