Sun is a year and a half.  I have been going to open houses for her grammar school.  I KNOW I am way early.  But I am a worrier and a planner. So there you have it.

Before I selected the schools to view, I talked to friends in the know and got their recommendations.  Ultimately, I will visit six schools.  Three because they are in the neighborhood and I feel I owe them a fair shake.  The other three came highly recommended.

The first I attended was one on the Highly Recommended list.  I liked it.  It didn’t WOW me.  But it didn’t deter me either.

Then I went to the second school.  And then the third.  Both being close to my house and Catholic.

Not to go off on a tangent, but in New Orleans, there is a VERY SMALL number of good public schools.  We do not live in those districts, and to get in those schools when you don’t live in the district is hard and not predictable.  So, private school is much more the option.  And privately, you can go religious or not.  Generally speaking, the Catholic schools are more prevalent, more affordable, and offer solid educations.  My husband and I both went through Catholic grammar and high schools as children; it is what we know and are familiar with, so such schools lead the pack for us.

The two schools I visited after that first school were nice enough.  They just fell short for me in one way or another.  One was too suburban and non-diverse, racially, and the other was way too small.  Both had what appeared to be mediocre pre-K classes as compared to the classes offered at what will be Sun’s daycare.

So three down, three to go.  The top two recommended are likely to be where I will make a decision from.

My point?

Through this process, my husband commented that we are doing FAR MORE than most parents do in this search.  That neither of our parents did these open houses, they plopped us in the closest school to our houses and voila.  And we turned out just fine.  He says I need to relax, that our focus on education will be her guiding light as she grows.

Bah, I say.  I could not disagree with him more.  Sure, I did well from an educational standpoint.  And two of my siblings also have advanced degrees.  But two do not have a college degree and it has a direct impact on their lives today.  And sure, our focus on education will HELP Sun know its importance.  But let’s face it, as she gets to be deciding about high school and college, it will NOT be our opinion that matters as much as her friends.  Sure, we could DEMAND she go to the high school we choose.  But she could just as easily rebel by doing poorly at that school.  Just ask my cousin about how to do that.

And who her friends will be are those kids she’s in school with, at the grammar school that IS completely in my power to select.  So if I KNOW the grammar school is a feeder school for a rock-solid high school, then doesn’t it make sense to put her in that grammar school?  If the suburban school is going to feed to a mediocre high school (one that is ok but not one of the best), then why even tempt those fates?

We all want what’s best for our children.  And I cannot guarantee Sun will go to college or love to read.  CS did not finish college.  I GET that a college degree is not a piece to the puzzle of happiness.  But such a degree is another arrow in her quiver.

So, is it wrong to stack Sun’s educational deck to the advantage I want it to have?

A friend came in town this weekend.  She’s a NOLA ex pat and so the pressure to be her tour guide was not there.  Instead, we just took things as they came.

We got a babysitter Friday night and ate at Patois.  It was divine.  No highchairs in the place.  And things on the menu like charcuterie and cheese plates, fois gras and confits.  We had an octopus appetizer and hanger steaks and shrimp entrees.  We used to dine out in such places all the time.  Now? Le Madelaine is our top restaurant.  It was decadent to be without Sun.  To have no other children within sight. After dinner, we went to a bar.  A bar!  I get giddy remembering it.  We gossiped about the couple near us–a woman joined them saying, “Nice to meet you.”  Then the female of the couple disappeared leaving the new woman with the man.  Oh, it was juicy.

Then yesterday.  I will be remembering yesterday for a long time.  We dined in NOLA joints that are like so many NOLA joints–good eats, good atmosphere, good company.

The rest of the day was spent looking for art.  I was on a streetcar hunt, and that lead us to stumble across this:

This is Marcus Brown‘s “Human Universal Musical sculpture,” or HUMs, and is part of the Arts Counsel of New Orleans’ Art in Public Places project.   You put your palm to the mouthpiece and it plays your own tune!

Then my friend wanted to go to Studio Inferno in the Bywater.  To say I love this place is an understatement.  I have so many pieces of their work, I could think about opening my own store!  So I was all in for this outing.

On the way, we passed so much public art, it was staggering.  None of these things are part of any exhibit.  These are just a part of the landscape of life in New Orleans.  I give you in no particular order our Bywater sites.

Instead of painting over that telltale mark of Katrina, this business owner celebrated it.  Stunning, isn’t it?

This mosaic mural is even more phenomenal in person.  There’s glass and tile and mirrors.  The detail was breathtaking.

This is inside Studio Inferno.  Presumably a Dr. Bob piece.  Too bad it’s tucked away because its whimsy is worth a good look.  This was upstairs in the work area of Studio Inferno:

Then there was this sort of mirrored house:

This was in the yard of a company.  Again, private property.

Then we left and went to seek out some of the public art being displayed on Airline Highway, the American Beauty, South project.  We liked this best, at the Aloha Hotel:

For every piece we saw of an official public art display, we saw just as many of equal quality that was just NOLA folks doing their thang.

I say it a lot here, but, Gawd, I love New Orleans.

Thanks to all the artists that inspired me yesterday.  Your work is truly appreciated.

Life is a succession of moments.  To live each one is to succeed.  ~ Corita Kent

I read that quote yesterday in a shop.  I do estate planning and probate work.  In Louisiana, that probate work is called Successions.  So when I see that word, “succession,” I think about death not life.  And the juxtaposition of that one word struck a cord with me.

I daresay none of us live each moment of our lives to the fullest extent.  How could we?  But there is something to being in the moment, experiencing just the moment.

For example.

Yesterday morning, I was putting on my shoes with Sun watching me.  I couldn’t find my other shoe and asked Sun if she saw it.  She walked behind me, bent over, picked up the matching shoe and brought it to me.  I thanked her.  It was a quiet moment of little consequence.  But it stopped me in my tracks.  Here we were, my daughter and I, having a conversation in which we both contributed and we both understood the other.  It was stunning in its simplicity.

Last night, for the second time in 30 minutes, I asked Sun if she was ready to go to her room to read.  She nodded, took my hand and we walked to her room.  I grabbed her favorite books and read them to her, returning again and again to her favorite parts.  Then I inhaled her scent and was captured under a spell.  I stopped reading and just looked at the picture of us sitting on the chair in the warm glow of her lamp.  And I leaned down, kissed the top of her head and thanked her. I thanked her for bringing me such joy.  I didn’t know my heart was capable of the love it has for Sun.

This won’t be every day.  But it was yesterday.  And by my measure, it was a success.

My weeks have been moving quickly.  We’ve been busy with Open Houses and tours of day cares and grammar schools.  Our friend that watches Sun on Wednesdays, SoMo, is pregnant with her third child and though throwing another one on the heap seems easy enough, I know those early post-pregnancy months are going to be rough for SoMo, and tending to Sun even once a week will be too much.  So our little boo will be going to “school” three days a week starting in June (her other two week days will still be spent with me).

And in a way, I am relieved.  When I was pregnant, I swore I never wanted Sun to end up in day care.  And I still feel strongly for a young baby.  I understand that many NEED it, but we didn’t.  And I wanted to be the one feeding her, changing her, bonding with her, sculpting her young mind.

But even now, and even more so in 6 months, Sun is HUNGRY for more than I can give her at home.  She blossoms when around other children and you can see her little hamster wheel humming along more strongly when in an environment that is catered to her size, interests, and skill levels.  She’ll love the art classes, the play time, the reading, the outside play yard.  She’ll make friends that will likely follow her to grammar school and maybe through her whole life.

The teacher at her school said something that I connect strongly with but never found the words so succinctly:  Parents spend so much time focusing on college for their children.  But it’s the start, the foundation, that is most important.  If you don’t build a solid foundation, they play catch up most of the time.  Instead, teach your child to LIKE school; to find learning stimulating and inviting; build that solid foundation.

And like the rash of knitting I have been accomplishing lately, things here are all neatly tied.

“Fifteen years; seems like yesterday.”  That’s what the email read today.  I had it marked on my calendar and had planned to call but wanted to wait til Sun was quiet.

The death was on impact.  If there is any mercy, it is in that he did not suffer and that he hit a bridge support and not another car.  Paul fell asleep behind the wheel.

I got the call fifteen years ago from my father.  My blood ran icy cold.  I couldn’t breathe or swallow.  “How can that be? His brother, his twin, how will he go on?”  I called his brother, my cousin.  We cried together.  We both coincidentally lived in Baton Rouge, our families in New Orleans.

After the funeral, we returned to separate homes in Baton Rouge and resumed our separate classes.  But our lives were no longer separate.  His only sibling was gone.  Dead.  In an accident that rendered Paul and even his car unrecognizable.  I owed it to both of my cousins to be more involved now.  To be David’s sister.  I made a solemn oath to God that I’d watch over him and protect him.

And though it is beyond my means to protect him, really, I do watch over him still.  And I still miss Paul.

Fifteen years.  Seems like yesterday.

I have a confession to make.  But not to you.  You, dear reader, will begrudge me little.  But I will confess here and hope it is enough.

I Google Mapped two exboyfriends today.  Why?  I dunno.  I guess to see if there houses were bigger than mine; in nicer neighborhoods; with better cars in the driveways.  I am ashamed that I cared.  But.  I am human.

What did I find? One ex, the more pretentious one, had a house no bigger than mine.  In fact, the house could be in my neighborhood.  What did I feel?  A bit of humor and frustration over his ability to make his lot seem more worthy than mine.  Fool that I am.

The other ex didn’t have a picture of his address on Google.   So I learned nothing for my shameful activity.

I am happy.  I fall deeper in love with Sun and CS with each passing day.  I have been cooking and knitting and doing yoga and feeling ENERGIZED again!  And yet here I am competing on some level with The Joneses.  Fool that I am.

Am I a lonely fool or do you do such foolish things from time to time too?  If you do, please share with me to make me feel less shameful!

CS and I take lots of pictures of Sun.  In the age of digital film, we are all amateur photographers with no costs of development to worry about.  At year end, we pick our favorite pictures and print them for a photo album we have for Sun.  In looking at that photo album tonight, I am humbled by how fast she is becoming a child and leaving babyhood and toddlerhood behind.

The thing about photographs is that you take the pictures of the smiles and the first good things: petting a goat, seeing snow, flying in a plane, eating Bud’s Broiler, holidays, and relatives.  You tend not to get the meltdowns, the disappointments: cranky, nappus interruptus Sun, fights over toys, spilled milk, busted chins, and laser treatments.

And so in looking back over the past year, one would think it has been all smiles and that it should have been all enjoyment.  And it just wasn’t.  Mainly, it was exhausting.  I am just tired all of the time.  I am not complaining.  It isn’t Sun that makes me tired.  But it is Sun that makes me realize that my tiredness is a deficit.  I feel regret in not doing more, not being more full of life and not basking in her seemingly endless smiles more.

But overall I just feel like the luckiest girl in the world.  It’s been over a year now that I have felt I finally got all I ever wanted and I still want for nothing more than the maintenance of the status quo.

(P.S. My grandfather is doing quite well–the clots have been cleared and he’s moving out of ICU tonight.  Once his blood thinner medication is where they want it in his system, he will be sent home.  Thank you all for your kind words of support and concern.  They were very much appreciated. –Nola)

I got a call today from my aunt.  My grandfather is in the ER with a blood clot.  They are testing to see whether he can be treated with medicine or will need surgery.  There is fear he will lose his leg.

Not to be morbid, but this reminds me just too closely of my grandmother’s (his wife’s) demise.  My grandmother was weak and starting to have memory problems.  We were prepared for her death.

But Bootsie?  I can’t imagine a world, my world, without him.  And I don’t want to.  But he just turned 89 and simply isn’t going to live forever.  And if he loses that leg, we all know that will be the beginning to a very quick end.

I brought Sun to SoMo’s today and went into the office to work.  But now there is nothing I can concentrate on but him.  So I will pick up my knitting and head to the hospital.

I’ll be damned if these red socks end up reminding me of my grandfather’s death.