When people hear about our lifestyle, and all the time spent living on water, they raise their eyebrows and look at the girls. "How are they turning out?" their expressions ask. A tinge of wariness or frank envy cross their faces.
I want to say out loud, "It's not what you think." No, they're not immune to seasickness, fighting, or fashion fads. Lamar, in a current quest for "normalcy," has declared herself a non-sailor--just as Cedar is insisting on reviewing every Sea Change application herself and selling her beaded earrings to support the family livelihood. Like all parents, our challenge is to roll with the punches and trust in the bigger picture. If we fill our lives with beauty and meaning, will that carry through to adulthood? We hope so.
Until this past Christmas, Mark and I spent exactly $0 on electronic gadgets for the girls. We want them to grow up in the physical, real world: their adventures sensory not virtual, their friends in the park rather than on Facebook, their entertainment emanating from people rather than screens.
So how is it that they have acquired so many gadgets? We now have a rule--"one camera and one music gadget each--and if you replace them you have to pay to throw them out." Their resourcefulness (read: number of gadgets) mystifies me still. I have to remember where they came from.
First it was homemade cardboard boxes with buttons, strips, and screens. Then, it was thrift store free bins, roadside bins, cell phones left to die. Finally it was thrift store shelves which offered up an astonishing wealth of electronicity. For pennies, they are completely outfitted and ready to join the 21st century. I'm relieved that they still have the wind and waves to watch and hear instead, a good part of the year.