Unfortunately, it already seems like it was quite a long time ago.

The trailer we lived in is still sitting in our driveway, however, so it can’t have been that long since we arrived home, dusty and exhausted. We returned my uncle’s truck, after an inadequate washing. Dad is using MP money to have it detailed for my uncle.

This year, Burning Man was great. It was hard in many ways, but experiencing the difficulties of it and enjoying it anyway was a good reminder to me that I like to be challenged on many levels, including physically.

I love the new friends we made; I only wish I had had more time with them (without the boy). In a way, it felt like I was two different people at Burning Man. I was Mommy, concerned with helping Lucas navigate the weirdos, new people, and the environment; get enough water, electrolytes, and sleep; and have a series of fun-for-him and safe experiences so he’d enjoy himself and make life easier on all of us. But later in the week, after he left, I was my unfettered self and that was hugely fun.

We balanced 4.5 days/4 nights with Lucas on the playa with 2 days/2 nights by ourselves. I’m glad we did it that way, because many rewards were had at the end of the week, when my responsibility level was reduced and I could be myself. Plus, Ian and I got to be together without work, without school, without computers, books, or Lucas to distract us from each other and our friends. That was positively glorious. (So much of our daily Default lives are spent doing routine and tedious tasks, which are often segregated into his jobs and my jobs.)

Also, I’m pleased to report that Lucas weathered the time away from us well. My parents said he did great, didn’t get too sad from missing us except once or twice, and had a lot of fun. (They took him downtown on Saturday to the Railroad Museum and they rode the steam train. Lucas swam a lot, too, diving for his new rings. The swimming must have been nice after all that heat and dust! He even got to visit his other grandma for a couple of hours on Sunday.)

The biggest challenge about being pregnant on the playa was having to pee so often. Stupid baby is sitting right on top of my bladder, which necessitated frequent trips to the potties. THANK GOD and DAD that we had the trailer—I used the little potty in it at night, 6-7 times a night. Without it, I think I might have been ready to come home on Wednesday! Well, maybe the biggest challenge was the dust. Or the heat. Or the noise. Or not being allowed to drink desert cocktails with friends. Well, I suppose there were many challenges, but having to pee all the time was right up there at the top of the list!

I had my first-ever art car ride this year. An older woman named Eleanor and her adult son Rob (Australian, we think) stopped their giant solar-powered tricycle named Daisy to let us have a ride. I think they stopped to pick up Lucas because he was so damned cute on the playa with his hat and sunglasses and little camelback on with the hose permanently inserted in his mouth. Ian and I got to ride on Daisy just ‘cuz we were with the kid. We all climbed about 15 feet into the air on a ladder to the platform where we could sit and ride. Daisy was tall and graceful and completely silent as she moved. Later in the week, Ian and I got to ride on the Purple Palace, too. It was nighttime and lovely, but a little chilly. (I found myself wishing that night that I had more caffeine in my blood and that the air were about 15 degrees warmer.) Anyway, later in the week we ran into Eleanor and her husband on the esplanade. They had laid out two light strips on the esplanade and were harrassing anyone who walked in between the lights. “Excuse me, this is a private road. Can you please walk elsewhere?” “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to move aside this is a private road.” I embraced Eleanor and said, “But Eleanor, it’s us! Surely you’ll welcome Ian and Sara onto your private road.” She and her husband gave us wish elephants to put under our pillows as gifts.

So, yeah. Completely. Sober. At Burning Man. That was a little weird, I have to admit. Although Ian and I have not had a drink for more than two years, somehow on the playa I really badly missed drinking cocktails with my friends! Perhaps it’s because I am pregnant and it’s always harder to forego something yummy when it’s forbidden to you. I feel deprived of the things that I’m not allowed to have (sushi, booze, certain letters of the Alphab-t). Because of the lack of any stimulants and booze, and because Lucas was with us much of the week, I actually got more sleep this year than I have had in any previous year at Burning Man. Frankly, I had a hard time staying up very late without any chemical assistance, despite the noise and fun. One giant coffee at about 11 p.m. would have fixed that, but since my son was up at 7 each morning, we refrained from the jolt.

We never managed to get Lucas to nap during the day while we were there. It was just too hard for him to shut out all the stimuli and go to sleep during the hot and noisy part of the day. All of his crankiness and stress and bad behavior came out while we were trying to rest, including rough hands that hurt me and made me cry. We had hoped to try to keep his schedule more-or-less normal and have naps, so that we could stay up later in the cool evening. Alas, it didn’t work that way. I was much happier on Thursday, his last day there, when we didn’t even try to lie down together. We just went out on a bike-riding adventure in the afternoon instead. Not napping meant that Lucas wasn’t really able to stay awake later than 10 or 10:30 p.m. I’m happy we brought his stroller along, because in the evenings after dinner, we walked out into the night to see the sights, and lights, and people. When he finally crashed, he was safe in his stroller. I’m glad he didn’t crash while riding on his tag-along bike behind Agent Daddy. Getting him home to our trailer in that case would have been a nightmare.

The weather was beautiful. Warm and sunny, sometimes hot during the day, but not always uncomfortably so. Windy and dusty toward sunset. Warm evenings that turned cold around 10 or 11. I’m told we slept through one beautifully balmy night, which is too bad. It was warm enough at night to wear fun clothes (but not no clothes). I honestly don’t know how some girls wear next to nothing: but then I’m not high and raving all night long, or playing with fireballs. Maybe that will be me in my 40s, when I leave my kids at home for the week, join the fire conclave, dread my hair, and dance with fire all night, every night.

An eye-opener occured on Wednesday. I watched Lucas put two pieces of information together and the light of understanding dawn in his eyes. He figured out that he would be leaving Burning Man on Friday morning, and that the Man was to burn on Saturday night. He would miss seeing the Man burn. He surprised me by realizing this fact, and then again when he burst into tears over it. He REALLY wanted to see the man burn. It was important to him, and he was really heart-broken over it. It was so sad! We promised to let him watch the Man burn on the computer when we got home. And we’ve had to promise a number of times that next time we all go to Burning Man, he will get to stay and see the Man burn.

It was très weird leaving the playa on Friday morning at 11 and driving to Boomtown to drop Lucas with my parents (2.5 hours away). We met in a Chevron parking lot and then had lunch at the Boomtown restaurant. I just have to say: Nevada sucks. Smoking indoors is trippy and awful. And casino people just seem so damned pathetic. My aristocratic upbringing made me scornful of the whole scene and everyone in it. Especially since it was so highly contrasted with the beauty and honesty and austerity and extravagance and grace of the Black Rock desert and all that is Burning Man. Everything about the casino (and all the local places we stopped in the greater Reno area) seemed so desperate. Anyway, Lucas took the farewell way better than I did. He bravely said goodbye with a kiss while we assured him over and over again that Mommy and Daddy would come home for him in a couple of days. I cried while we drove away back toward BRC. (Funny how 8 solid days and nights with Lucas will make a goodbye seem so tragic and sorrowful, but during our regular life, I can send him off to school each morning without a pang.) I was worried that he’d feel neglected and abandoned, but according to my parents, he did just fine that weekend.

I have more to say, more Burning Man thoughts and experiences to share, but I have to stop for now and leave them for another installment.

A thank you I received from a UCD doctor I interviewed for my July 06 article on gentle exercise:

“Dear Ms. Wilson:

I can’t tell you how many calls I received on the piece that you did. All positive, of course. I didn’t even know the piece was out until late July when several colleagues and patients commented on how much the loved the article. You really captured the essence of the importance of exercise in the community.

Bravo,

Hot Shit Doctor”

In case anyone is eager to keep up with my freelance writing career … I have, depending on how you count them, 2 or 4 short pieces published in September’s Sacramento magazine. One is a stand-alone piece on the upcoming Waldorf parents/educators conference, which is probably only of interest to me. The others are part of a big article on “cutting-edge nutrition.” Four different writers contributed short pieces to that nutrition article, and I covered the topics of fiber, “food combining,” and pre- and probiotics. Isn’t that exciting?

September is a pretty big issue, which I also proofread. There are some interesting articles in a special section about downtown Sacramento and new urbanism and smart growth, if you happen to be an editrix who’s into that sort of thing (Dakini). Also, the magazine is expanding it’s food section significantly.

http://www.sacmag.com/media/Sacramento-Magazine/September-2006/Cutting-Edge-Nutrition/

Lucas has started at the Red Rose Kindergarten! Wednesday was his first official day of school, after a 1-hour “orientation” on Tuesday that involved a tour of the classroom and yard that focused on the important things, such as where all the toys are kept. On Tuesday we all had a circle time together too, and I think because I was there he was a little clingy and nervous.

Wednesday was a different story, however. Ian and I both took Lucas to school. There were more parents in the play yard than kindergartners. He was so cute in his play clothes with his new stuff bag that grandma made and his lunchbox (with handmade cloth napkins inside). He proudly posed for photos at the front gate and in front of the sign, and immediately started playing in the yard; he climbed a tree, and crossed a footbridge, and greeted his friends.

When it was time to line up and go into the Red Rose classroom, he gave us hugs, changed into his inside shoes, and marched inside without a backward glance. No tears. No whining. No clinging. He was ready. We parents hung around after the kids went inside and were given carnations and name tags to wear and a book about Waldorf education—one I’m pleased that I haven’t already purchased! We mingled and ate cookies and drank tea.

Later that day, when I picked Lucas up, he emerged grinning from ear to ear with his empty lunchbox in hand. One of the teachers caught my eye and gave me the thumbs up. She knows I was concerned since he is among the youngest children in the class.

So, he’s had three days at his new school. A couple of times he’s told me he’s “sick,” which is his way of expressing a little anxiety about a situation. But each morning, he has proudly strode off to the car with dad to go to school without a whimper. I’ve been dosing his moring cup of water with a Bach’s flower essence tincture called “Rescue Remedy.” It’s something those Waldorfy homeopathic people recommend for nerves and stress. I don’t know if it works, but it seemed worth a try.

We’re trying to get our schedule back to school days with an early bedtime for Lucas, but it’s tough after Burning Man. It didn’t help that Wednesday night was grandma’s birthday and Saturday night we stayed out really late at a super-fun party.

On Saturday morning, I hung out with my mother for a while. I took her to Sac Waldorf School and showed her the play yard. We peeked into Lucas’s classroom and then toured the rest of the school. She hadn’t ever been there before, and was impressed with the place. I think she’s onboard with our decision. We’ll be inviting the grandparents to the Harvest Festival in October.

It’s a boy.

My heart is broken. I am so disappointed. I never wanted two boys. I never saw my life like this. My whole life I’ve thought I’d someday have a daughter. It’s what I always pictured, always knew to be true. And now I am miserable. I’m not happy about this new baby boy. I feel broken and hollow inside. Like my hopes blew away in yesterday’s afternoon breeze. I am completely ashamed of the degree of my sadness, ashamed to admit to anyone how wrong I feel this is. I feel guilty. I feel like I’m a terrible and shallow person. I am ugly and evil.

It’s not what I wanted. It’s not fair. I wanted a little darling. I wanted someone I could relate to. I wanted my daughter to grow up and be my friend and companion and confidante. I fear I will never have this type of relationship with my sons. Oh God, my sons.

I wanted someone to cherish and be feminine with. I wanted dresses and hair clips and ballet lessons and horses and unicorns and fairies. I wanted someone to shop with and do silly things like get facials and someone to talk about feminism with. I wanted someone to share my interests. I wanted someone to share what I know about men, women, friendships, relationships, goodness and truth with. I am afraid that as my children grow, they will grow farther and farther away from me, instead of toward me in closeness. I wanted someone to be with me when I am old and alone.

I am so sad and I am shocked at this pain. I feel inconsolable. I want to change it. There is no way to change it.

I cannot talk about it. I can’t talk to my mother or father, Ian’s parents, or my friends. Our family knows, and I cannot show this to them. I keep crying like an idiot. I don’t want to tell people my baby is healthy, has all his parts, and looks great on the sonogram screen. I don’t want to share the pictures. I don’t think I can fake happiness right now, even though I am relieved to see he’s whole and apparently healthy. I’m not ready for this. I’m not strong enough.

I don’t want people’s sympathy. I don’t want cheering up. I don’t want to hear people blow off my despair because little boys are nice too. I don’t want to hear how great it will be for Lucas to have a little brother. How two boys are so much fun, or whatever. I don’t want my sadness and disappointment to be known because I’m ashamed and embarrassed to feel this way, nor do I want it minimized because it’s the biggest and darkest and most powerful feeling of grief I’ve ever felt.

I don’t want to hear people say they feel sorry for me. I don’t want to hear how great a mother I’m going to be for my sons. I don’t want to hear how it will all be all right as soon as I hold my new baby—that I’ll get over it. I don’t want to get over it.

I want a girl baby.

Burning Man.

It burned me up and out and lit the fire in my heart again. It wasted me and renewed me again and again each day I was there. I was schizophrenically me and not me at the same time; my roles were mixed-up and rolled together and it made me freer and more confused than ever. It. Was. Hard. Mothering and being mothered. Nurturing and being nurtured. Intimate insiders busting out and brand-new outsiders getting in. I didn’t like the theme. Yet I lived the theme. Hopes were dashed and fears realized. Other fears blew away in the wind and new hopes were born in me. Sometimes I was all there and other times I was lost and nowhere and without a compass, except the Man. My man. The Sun. My Son. Emotions gripping and then vanishing. Nature and Elements clung to my skin. There was no escape, yet through surrender, I escaped all. I. Was. Sober. Nothing but a little caffeine to fuel my urges. Baby inside, boy outside. Peeingest Burning Man Ever! Being semi-recognizably pregnant on the playa brought attentions both unexpected and sometimes undesired. I felt simultaneously my most beautiful self and my most awkward and invisible. At times I was fully surrounded by my dearly beloved, reveling in their quiet presence. At other times I felt distantly separated despite their nearness. My husband and lover—alone with me at last. REJOICING in our togetherness. It was both quiet and desperate, both beautiful and sad. Thank you, Agents.

In a word, I am now RAW from the dust, the heat, the art, the effort, and the impact.

This week I have received loaner maternity clothes from an ex-coworker, and two giant boxes of preggy clothes from a friend of a friend, who is now Done with her pregnancy days. This is like getting money from heaven, because it’s extremely expensive to outfit oneself completely for a mere 5 months! Most of what I got will be useful, and some of what I got is actually cute. Ian also unearthed from the mountain of crap in my garage the small box of clothes I used when I was pregnant the first time. Although I’m not at all happy to see my few, oft-worn maternity rags again, at least I know they will fit me. I also know now that I won’t have to shiver in January wearing only an ill-fitting sarong and a pair of socks!

Dude! I just realized that while at Burning Man, I won’t be able to post to my LJ! Eeeek! I’m totally hooked. What am I gonna do? It is fairly unlikely that I’ll want to write long hand on the playa!

Today is Lucas’s last day of preschool, ever. I’m going at noon to his school to join the children for homemade blackberry cake and ice cream (blackberries picked by the children).

Miss Jennifer has been a wonderful teacher, and her garden and yard and all the outside time she’s provided over the last year have been absolutely the perfect thing for Lucas. He has toughened up, become more independent, learned to appreciate nature, and gotten in touch with the seasons in a very real sense. He has bonded with all the elements and is physically stronger and bolder than he was before. Although being around a larger group of children, and being around older children hasn’t always been great for Lucas’s behavior, he has learned important lessons about friendship, courage, loyalty, being kind, taking care of others, and even about hurt feelings and how to cope with them. I know this is all just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s been a good year for him and I’m grateful that we landed in the Hidden Treasure garden after all the preschool drama of last fall.

I’m trying to think of a good gift to give Miss Jennifer to thank her for all she’s done. One that costs about $5 would be great, but I can’t think of anything. Maybe I’ll go to the nursery on the way there. I have about 7 Daisy Dollars to spend…

I’m excited that Lucas is starting at the Red Rose Kindergarten on September 6, and also a little nervous. I hope he isn’t the youngest (and smallest) child there. I’m happy to have reached Sacramento Waldorf School because its stability is extremely reassuring to me. I know that nothing major will change for probably two years, which is a good long time to grow and learn and make lasting friendships without a lot of stress. Several of Lucas’s friends will be in the Kindergarten for two years with him, and will likely be in his grades classes for the next eight years after that.

Last Friday we all went to a work day at the Red Rose Kindergarten. We scrubbed chairs, play stands and shelves with water and Murphy’s oil soap. We cleaned crayons (yes, you read that right—we cleaned the fancy German crayons so that their colors would be pure when used). Lucas swept and raked. Other families were there, as well as the teachers. It was a wonderful way to get the children to begin to claim their classroom and play-yard as their own, and to start to feel comfortable there. The parents got to know each other a little more. The kids had a snack together when the work was done.

Tonight is a parent meeting with Red Rose teachers. I suppose we’ll be educated in what is expected of us.

It’s been a busy month: two strategy guide copyedits, some business writing, some volunteer writing for UUSS, ongoing editing of chapters of a massage therapy textbook, an editing exam completed and passed for a new client, and five days of in-house proofreading for two magazine for shipout.

Work Done = LOTS
Income this month = SUCKY, like barely into four digits.
Income next month = MUCH BETTER

I saw my aunt and uncle from Minnesota on Saturday night. They were visiting and we celebrated my mother’s birthday (it was the first time she and her four siblings have been together in one place in 6 years). Anyway, my uncle Mike is the one who works for a religious press in St. Paul. I edited two books for them in 2004 and 2005. Mike said the references for the Bakke book were just about the toughest refs (footnotes and bibliography) they’ve had in years, which was a relief because I CRIED and SWEATED and BLED getting those refs right!

http://www.augsburgfortress.org/store/item.asp?ISBN=0800636988&CLSID=157771&PRODUCTGROUPID=-1

http://www.augsburgfortress.org/store/item.asp?ISBN=0800637259&CLSID=157766&PRODUCTGROUPID=-1

Well, my uncle and aunt both independently praised my work on those two books. Tatha said that the books read beautifully and that I did a marvelous job. Mike said that the editors I worked for on those two projects both left and that’s why they didn’t return my messages, not because the publisher didn’t like my work as I had feeared.

My aunt, Tatha Wiley, is a brainiac extraordinaire and religious scholar with a doctorate in divinity. This is her latest book:

Paul and the Gentile Women
Reframing Galatians

by Tatha Wiley
T & T Clark,2005
168 pages,English
Paper,5.5 x 8.5
ISBN: 0826417078
List Price: $27.95
Your Price: $22.36
www.eisenbrauns.com/wconnect/wc.dll?ebGate~EIS~~I~WILPAULAN

Here’s a page showing all of her published works:
http://pokermagazine.com/cgi-bin/apf4/amazon_products_feed.cgi?Operation=ItemSearch&SearchIndex=Books&Author=Tatha%20Wiley

Tatha is currently editing a six-book series and she said she’d love it if I were the copyeditor for the series! (She’s also putting me in touch with other editors she knows.)

Mike said that he’ll send me a list of 2007 titles so I can choose some to edit for Fortress!
So, yay me! Networking and family helps, but my hard work and skills are appreciated!