Many clever and passionate people have written about their feelings and thoughts on the anniversary of 9/11, about what happened on that awful September day in 2001. I don’t feel like sharing the impact that day had on my life and worldview, though it was profound and I will never forget those feelings of fear and grief. I do not wish to focus on that.

I would just like to share my small act of big faith.

On the evening of the anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I boarded a small domestic flight to Santa Barbara, having left my children in the loving arms of their grandparents, and flew through the air with my knitting and my Kindle to keep me company. It was a short, sweet flight, with no hiccups or security difficulties or excessive waiting. My stuff was x-rayed and I walked quietly through the metal detector. Nobody asked me any questions about my bags; I didn’t check any.

It wasn’t until the next day, when I was rummaging through my purse, that I realized I had accidentally smuggled a pocket knife aboard the airplane. It was in my purse, as usual, because a pocket knife is a useful tool to have. But I didn’t remember I had it and nobody noticed it, not even the technician manning the x-ray.

I don’t know how to feel about this, except to be somewhat amazed at how life is always in a state of entropy, even after a massive, shattering upset. Things go back to normal, despite our personal transformations.

We drop our vigilance. We continue with our plans, despite the alarms. We carry on.

There dims in damp autumnal air

The senses’ luring magic;

The light’s revealing radiance

Is dulled by hazy veils of mist.

In distances around me I can see

The autumn’s winter sleep;

The summer’s life has yielded

Itself into my keeping.

—Rudolf Steiner (verse for the week of September 8–14)

It’s been a busy, busy week full of adjustments for everyone. Lucas went back to school on Tuesday. There was much rejoicing by his proud parents. He looked ready,  brave, and determined.

Lucas and Asher on the first day of school.

Honestly, I’m so excited for him. This year is going to be wonderful, full of friends, new confidence, Saints and fables to inspire us, as well as dragons to conquer.

Right before entering the second-grade classroom.

We have had some struggles this week. Daddy had to go out of town for a conference on Wednesday morning, and we are emotionally at sea without our anchor. We are used to our days without Daddy, but when evening sneaks in we all look around at each other and miss him terribly. Asher has had a much harder than usual time at Ring-A-Rosies preschool and had to be picked up early two days. He is adjusting to Lucas being gone at school and Daddy not coming home at night, and he’s quite sure the scenario stinks. “I miss my daddy. I want my brother!”

As if to emphasize that change is in the air, Lucas’s top right incisor leaned sooooooo far out of his mouth that Lucas couldn’t help himself; he simply pried it out. And so, my 7-and-1/4-year-old son now has a giant window in his smile, and an adult tooth moving in fast.

See how delighted he is?

Look at the size of that gap!

As you can see, he is quite thrilled about the change and told me all about how he pushed the tooth back until it just popped out “… and there was this dangly gut thingy hanging there!”

We got to use the Tooth Fairy Pillow I made him for the third time, and this morning a $2 bill was sticking out of the pocket.

We all have big plans for the weekend: I’m flying down to Santa Barbara tonight for my first vacation alone with my husband in three years. I went to college in Santa Barbara for two years, and I haven’t been there since 1992. Ian and I courted there, so I’m thinking of this trip as a little honeymoon that we desperately need.

The boys will be going to my parents’ house, who will undoubtedly spoil them and feed them ice-cream sandwiches and sausages and pizza and all their favorite things. I can tell Lucas and Asher are anxious (as evidenced by the tantrums and invented neck aches and “too warm” foreheads), and possibly this isn’t the best weekend for me to leave them, after such an eventful week. And I’m tempted to feel tremendously guilty about it.

Nevertheless, I’m carrying on in the belief that a happy, rested mama, who has had the chance to have fun, reconnect with her husband, and recharge her marriage, will be a better mother for them in the long run.

And they will be fine.

On the trails along the American River, a tiny lizard crossed our path and crawled right up Lucas’s body and under his shirt.

Four kids with screw drivers and a burning curiosity dismantled out broken VCR … for SCIENCE!

Bruised knees, sun hat, and a big, black dog. Asher prefers just the meat, thanks.

Triumphs of imagination and ingenuity are worthy of celebration. Robots are cool, man!

I am very disciplined about keeping my dreams in check. I don’t allow myself much time to wish or ponder much other than my reality (which is really good—I promise I count my blessings often). Anyway, in part this habit is an effort to live in the present with my family and “be here now,” as they say. Maybe it’s also a survival mechanism. There isn’t a lot of point in fantasizing about my dream job or what white sand beach I’d like to be lying on when these fripperies aren’t in my cards right now. Honestly, I don’t spend a lot of time doing it.

So I didn’t think about Burning Man much before the start of this week. I watched with casual interest as people I know and love packed up their dusty belongings and trundled off to Black Rock City to be their truest selves for a week. On Monday, opening day of the festival, I imagined driving in to Greeters  and falling into that first welcome home hug, the blowing winds, the light so bright you must wear sunglasses. On Tuesday I realized Asher’s present age (2 years and 7 months) is actually just a few months older than Lucas’s age when he first went to the playa in 2004—our ill-fated Burn, when we stayed only 51 hours.  I looked at a photo of feverish baby Lucas at Burning Man, trying to have fun despite his racking pneumonia.

On Wednesday, I lost my mind. I had a bad day. My son and I argued and my feelings got hurt. I spent a ton of time driving around lost, listening to Raffi. I had a cranky, overtired baby on my hands. I missed my limited opportunity to work on important projects. In short, I went a little nutso, succumbing to stress and worry and letting stuff get to me. I spent an evening gnashing my teeth in a dear friend’s living room, enumerating all the things that feel out of control and frightening in my world, and crying over all the things I wish I could be doing.

I guess I had to say this painful stuff out loud. Sometimes I need to be heard, no matter how ugly my words sound to my own ears. My patient friend listened, offered me her enduring love, and suggested perhaps it’s OK that I don’t do it all.

It wasn’t until today, Thursday, that my friend and I both realized that I unwittingly followed my own tradition of completely freaking out on Wednesday of Burning Man week. (It’s not only my pattern though. Lots of people experience it, too). It’s the halfway point of the festival. It’s the day when I’m swept up in a whirlwind of intense emotion and physical stress, and all of my normal layers of protection peel off me like so much sunburned skin. A good, intense cry—some serious wailing into the wind— is usually needed on Wednesday. A catharsis of explosive proportions is almost always in order. The shrapnel is actually expected by friends and campmates, and they duck or provide emergency aid or ululate alongside me, as they are able.

I guess this catharsis is needed in real life, too. Sometimes I just have to screech so my own voice will drown out the harpies.

Physical play always results in giggles.

Wake up, don your superhero cape over your pajamas, and go outside to dig.

Dear Playgroup Friends,

I just wanted to write a note and say thank you for making our summer so much fun! I think our summer playgroup was terrific this year. I sincerely hope you all had a good time participating. It seemed to me that our boys loved having the play dates to look forward to, and I know Lucas was thrilled to visit his friends’ homes—you know, to check out how the other guy lives. 😉

To recap, our boys …

* went swimming many times

* played with race cars

* rode horses

* drove electric cars

* jumped on trampolines

* played with Legos

* visited a park

* played badminton

* had a birthday party

* rode scooters and bikes

* dug in the dirt

* and snacked on many delicious foods!

Getting together these seven times this summer has helped us feel connected and nurtured our friendships. Lucas is ready to dive into the school year and play some more! I got to spend time with some moms and dads I didn’t know all that well yet. I’m grateful to count you all friends.

I wish I had pictures to share, but alas, when I hosted playgroup in June I was so busy with the kids and fixing them food I forgot to get out my camera.

With love and thanks,

Sara

(and Lucas, Ian, and Asher)