Maiden Voyage: Success

Death Valley - More Badwater

Let me revel in the moment of perfection awhile longer before I force myself back into reality. (Reality being a cluttered, unfinished house and a To Do list 2 pages long; perfection being two magical days on the road.)

It really was perfect. And it only took me a couple hours to stop holding my breath and realize it’s greatness. We made it past our previous break-down spot and to Death Valley without any issues, found a sparsely populated campground and were surprised by how easily we settled into a “routine”. It was really as if we’d be doing it for ages. It felt so good. We only wished to come home so that we could finish packing and get back out!

It was also good to get a feel for things. When evaluating the learning curve and adjustments we need to make, one thing dominates: privacy. It’s been a frequent question and we tend to answer it with our standard “What’s privacy?” There simply is no privacy at home. We’re together all the time, we sleep in the same room and other than averting our eyes when changing or using the bathroom, privacy just doesn’t exist. So, when I say privacy is an adjustment we need to make, I don’t mean in the common sense.

What I do mean is the “illusion of seclusion”. (Hey, I’m a poet and you didn’t know it. I can make a rhyme anytime.)

Being that Zeb is slow to wake up and not a morning person, listening to us make coffee and tea first thing in the AM just plain sucked. For all of us. It turned him into a crank for a good 20 minutes and had me taking so many deep breaths I nearly hyperventilated. He simply didn’t have a space of his own to wake up slowly. He also requested privacy in the bathroom (surprising coming from the boy who won’t let me pee in peace).

All this adds another task to my ever-growing list – hang an adjustable, removable curtain to give us a secluded (if not quiet) place to feel alone. I have an idea as to how I’ll do this but no clue as to when I’ll accomplish it. Some other things to consider: a way to protect pans to make cooking on the rocket stove feasible; more shelves and “spots” for things like glasses or a book light; finding kid-friendly and -populated areas.

There is so much more to say but to be honest with you, I’m too exhausted right now to think straight. The RV will be starting its veggie oil conversion soon, my kitchen is devoid of food and my mounting To Do list is arguing with the unbending will of Father Time. So, please ignore this sub-par post and excuse me while I shuffle off to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long month.

[You can read Justin's highlights here and see more photos here.]

A Privacy Policy

No, not mine. Zeb’s.

Erin’s post reminded me that I had never posted our own version of the same.

Many months ago, when I had made a brief mention on the blog of a project Zeb was working on then mentioned that fact to him, he was not so happy. That little tidbit suddenly thrust before his eyes the reality that lots of people read about him. People he doesn’t know. And that makes him very uncomfortable.

So, he asked me to not blog about him.

It’s a difficult situation, whether you’re talking about your child or your friend. Those of us that find something (connection, communication, an outlet – creative or emotional or both – or more) in blogging, blog from our own perspective. We delve into our experiences and emotions and thoughts with our own level of comfortable abandon. And everything within that perspective feels personal.

But the feeling is deceiving. Blogging isn’t personal because my life isn’t personal. It’s shared with an amazing husband and son with thoughts, emotions or perspectives of their own. What I may want to share from my own point-of-view may will look different from theirs. And if those two perspectives conflict (on the experience of the blogging of it), it’s obviously a problem.

yarn and fire
NOT a picture of Zeb. Just my cold feet by my fake fire
getting ready to crochet a blankie for my sis.

I suppose it’s a bit of a double standard. I wouldn’t dream of blogging about a personal experience with a friend, but I so quickly forget my home life is not just my own. It belongs to them, too. So, while this is “my” blog, it also belongs to them in the sense of moderation.

I’m glad that Zeb was comfortable enough to ask me to refrain. And I’m also glad that when there is something I’m very excited to share, I may ask him and many times he will be fine with it. Especially when he feels it may inspire other families (he’s all about the advocacy these days).

So you may see (or have seen) lots of unschooling or parenting posts for me that seem heavy on the ”theory”, with less emphasis on practical, real-life examples of our experiences. And you may see very little about what Zeb is up to these days.

And there might be are some posts that I write out for my own purpose (I tend to work things out best in writing) but never publish because they contain private information I’m not at liberty to divulge.

But know that he is good and well and just not as publicly open as his mama. And also know that anything you see that mentions him, I write it in full respect of and with approval from my son. (My husband, thankfully, doesn’t mind.)