how weaning happens

...or at least how it happens with us. even more specifically, with george and me.

i cried last night. a good, hard, had-to-take-off-my-glasses cry. without complete intention, i have just weaned my last baby from the breast. (and i am 99% sure i am done having babies.) only another nursing mother can fully understand what it feels like to nurse your baby for the last time. plus, in this case i didn't know the last time was "the last time." so, now i have this little grief dancing inside my heart, that i know will settle but hurts all the same. i thought this post might help.

i did the math: i have been suckling babies for 6 of the past 8 years, with one period of rest in between. it will feel weird to not have that connection. i've said it a hundred times: nursing, if anything, is a relationship, not just a food source.

mayan nursed like a champ from the minutes she was born, and nursing her into toddlerhood not only seemed like the way SHE was going to have it, but it was important to me, as well, since she had so many food allergies and it took her a while to establish a food-diet that could nourish her. with her, nursing was a valuable tool. to calm her down when she was freaking out, and also to shush her when i needed to talk on the phone. :)

i decided not to cut this relationship short when i became pregnant with isadore. while the milk supply dwindled, she was not deterred. life was going to change dramatically for her when her new sibling arrived, and i didn't need to give her another reason to resent the new baby, by taking away her precious "boobah."

this turned out to be a good decision, when at 35 weeks isadore was induced early. while she was in the NICU and not able to nurse at the breast for her first 10 days, mayan became my "portable breast pump." i'd saved up more milk than isadore would ever be able to drink, but to keep up supply i was instructed to pump every three hours ("just like if you had a nursing newborn..." they said.) mayan went from being able to have a casual conversation with me at the breast to watering eyes and choking trying to keep up with the new flow.

once isadore was able to nurse she latched on like a pro as well, and was so efficient at getting milk from me even as a tiny 4 1/2 pound baby, that she would suck a few times, establish the flow and then lay back a let it ease down her throat with little to no effort. this completely unvalidated the formula the nurses had laid out for me: "about one cc per one minute of sucking." we had to weigh her to verify that in fact, just 10 minutes of weak, sleepy sucking she ingested 45 cc's of milk--a full feeding. we were released for home the next day.

after a few months, just as i had hoped, mayan got the picture that nursing was for "little babies", and gracefully bowed out, at age 2 1/2.

isadore was a mellow child, and a great sleeper so the nursing relationship was not as intense as it was for me and mayan. she had already lost interest at 2 years--slowly tapering off from day feeding so that the go-to-sleep sessions were the last to go--so that's when i had my first break. it was a bitter sweet transition, but deep inside i knew i'd get to have that experience one more time.

enter george-ephraim, 2 years later. his birth was everything i'd dreamed, and was healing and empowering in so many ways. i was a nursing professional now and it took no effort to establish that bond. eat, burp, sleep, eat burp, sleep...constant cycle that i practically did with one hand while i took care of everyone else with the other.

gives a whole new meaning to the word 'buffet'!

on vacation in seattle 2008

previous blog readers and other nursing mothers may know, this is called "NAKing"--nursing at keyboard

george "gettin' some" in the backseat of the car--milk that is

the difference with george, is that i didn't want to use nursing as a calming or quieting tool, but instead just for eating and just for sleeping. so once he grew into a walking, pointing, babbling, food-snacking toddler, i just never sent the message that it was something we did while we were out and about. this made the sleeping feedings oh-so-special. more than special....absolutely divine. we have a white chair in our bedroom that for the last year is where i sat nearly everyday, once in the afternoon and once at night, for george to have his "me-me." this is the word he made up at a few months old, to describe more than just the nursing but the act of me swaddling him in a specific blanket (the "me-me blanket"), binding it with a scarf and then latching on to the breast. (he eventually at age TWO was okay with not being "bound"--the boy LIKES to be restrained! don't get me started thinking about how this will play out as an adult......)

swaddled in the white chair, with his kitty halo, for our daily nap ritual. the image i will carry sweetly within my mind's eye until the day i die.

this routine, like with my other children, became so ingrained that sleeping any other way (besides in the car) became a non-choice. i have always trusted the process and knew from experience that my child would not be a nursing grad-student as many have joked, but that nursing would taper off in the time that was right for our family, around 2 1/2 years.

well, here we are.

i am preparing for a trip to L.A. in november for my 30th birthday, and am leaving the family behind. i know it would be best to have an established bedtime routine for george that doesn't require my breasts, so blake can have an easy time with having all three kids. george already has a bed in his own room so the biggest trick was getting him out of the "white chair" for that moment he drifts off. a few weeks ago, i started to nurse him until he was almost asleep and then i'd pass him to blake, who would carry him to bed with his own whispered papa-words and beardy kisses. this met with little to no resistance. then i began to skip all naps so that when bed time came, george would be very, very sleepy. a few nights ago, on a whim, i told him he could touch and kiss the "me-me" but not nurse it. this met with medium resistance. i let him nurse for 10 seconds then asked for it back, and he obliged, with a look that showed me he thought he'd just gotten away with something delightfully forbidden. then i passed him to dad in his favorite blanket, who had a sippy-cup of warm milk. blake tucked him in, and george got up and wandered in to our room a few times. we alternated tuck-ins until one stuck. i discovered if i stay, and pet his forehead like i did when he was a baby, and sing him a lullaby while his eyes get heavy, he won't get out of bed at all.

today, he seemed like he needed a nap, and i was SO temped after my tearful realization last night to just nurse him one last time. but i knew that we'd already crossed the line into successful weaning, it would only complicate matters to backtrack, so i took him upstairs with some milk and we lay in his bed together. i was doubtful it would work in broad daylight.

george (eyes twinkling with the remembrance of the new routine): "mama, touch me-me?"
me: "sure, you can touch the me-me."
i reached to pull my dress down just a bit for access.
george (every word sounding like a question): "mama? take? bra? off?"
me: "no, buddy, i am not going to take my bra off."


his hand settled into a spot, halfway down into my bra. i hand him his cup of milk. i lay my head down on his pillow and close my eyes, to send the we-are-napping message. the all-symphony station played in the background. he set his cup aside and stared off at the ceiling. i peeked periodically to see the status his eyelids. it took about 4 minutes. i slipped his hand out of my bra, ever so slowly and crept away. then i came down here to write this.

it really is over. on to the next phase.

all done!

second and final session for my right arm is done. i am so happy with it!

it was very cool being able to post from the chair with my beloved iPhone

Everyone say hi to James ("hi, James!") he was nice enough to play me videos again on his iPod (the Asylum Street Spankers this time) and a really cute kids album that i wills soon purchase and burn for everyone i know. thought is was amusing that some one who doesn't have little kids knew every line, not to mention the whole shop was rocking to the kids tunes...its called 'Mom Says No!'

anyway, notice the FUN position i had my arm in...eek.

ah, so fresh!

next day, all washed up. the flower is, of course, fully healed.

loving the Isis wings...and her jewelry and gown. all of the shading will soften when healed.

the detail on the wings turned out beautifully!

Hooray!!!!!! I can honestly say that at this moment in time I do not have any ideas or plans for more ink....but it would be nice to have something for George eventually. For now I am satisfied...;)

goodies from the days in bend

recently, michael took all of my old pictures and videos from my laptop hard drive and put them on the new computer....basically our lives from 2005 to 2007--pre-blogging days for me--flashed before my eyes, many memories i had forgotten.

cooking thanksgiving sister with my sister

my favorite picture of blake ever, taken on our 5th anniversary

adorable family picture in vancouver BC, october 2006

memorable sail on waldo lake on the catalina 22

this might be my fondest memory i have of the time before we decided to move: an epically beautiful fall day i drove out to DD Ranch in Terrebonne with my girls, drinking a delicious chai on the way, to spend the afternoon picnicing, wandering through the pumpkin patch, and taking a hayride. (this was taken by myself on the ride)

at one point my sister had imported all of her videos and pictures from our visits onto my computer, and some went back before we even owned a digital camera. having these little snipettes of little mayan and isadore are priceless!!


mayan is about three here and isadore one-ish.


four and two i think...mayan is pretending to be blake! hilarious...

mama's little fashionista

for as long as i can remember i've had a passion for fashion. the highlight of my childhood was pouring over department store catalogs. i'd spend countless hours creating lists of "dream wardrobes"--each list at different price points, like the if-we-won-the-lottery list, the $250 list, and the bare minimum i-couldn't-live-without list. i was the youngest of four children and our income was modest at best so this must have driven my parents crazy. once a week, my mom had her nails done at the JC Penney salon and i would get to spend the whole time browsing the childrens clothing section by myself, marveling at the coordinated sets, and fingering the fabrics, and if i had time try on different outfits. this must have driven the sales people crazy. this love for clothing has alwasy been my favorite pasttime--anytime we go on vacation i want to see the boutiques and vintage stores, every birthday its how i want to spend my day, any extra money that comes our way, i immediately dream up an afternoon at anthropologie. if we are going to go somewhere special like a concert, i will spend the weeks leading up to said event looking for the perfect thing to wear. this, of course, can drive blake a little crazy, too.


when i think back to my childhood, the things that stand out the most are not birthday parties or sports or school...its wandering thorugh malls and admist clothing racks. once, when i was about nine, my sister gave me $100 and i asked my mom to take me to the emporium where i proceeded to choose an assortment of cotton pieces with the most mix-and-match potential to maximize my dollars. i especially remember a pair of paisley print leggings with grey, turquoise, and purple tones that i wore until the knees faded.

and its weird how something is just "turned on" in your brain. my parents were not particulary fashionable people, and i can't think of anything or anyone who influenced me in that direction. and although clothing is material, its wasn't a desire for material possessions or or the status of designer ware. nor was it vanity--i wasn't so much whether i looked beautiful or fancy. the pleasure came from putting something together that was aethetically pleasing. like seeing amazing architecture or being in a room designed in fung shui, fashion is taking color and texture and cultural context and making a wearable expression from it, and i couldn't turn off that awareness if i tried.

it must have been about a year ago that i noticed something. blake and mayan have always had this deep connection--they share all the same interests, you can pretty much bet that if blake is into it mayan will become a fan as well. as she gets older their love of mutual things gets more intense, and its like this "aside" from the normal parent-child relationship, a thread of a common connection that looks more like friendship. its sweet and in the past i have been somewhat envious of their bond. so this thing i saw a year ago surprised me a little bit. it sprung up and suddenly it came to me that i might get to have this connection with another child: isadore. the two of us have always had an easy time getting along, but now a new development in our realtionship emerged: the girl loves fashion.


it took me a while to see this because it started as a love of dress up. not unusual for kids to love to dress up, but she took to dressing up all day, everyday. i began to expand our dress up box...or boxes, with thrift store finds. she would watch a movie and then immediately go to the box and create a look similar to the main character. it never had to be JUST like the character either--she happily worked with what she had, so if the character wore a puffy white shirt and vest, any old white shirt and an indian print vest turned inside out would do.

i will never forget the moment though that i knew isadore had my affection for fashion, the same mindfulness about clothing that i possessed. we were at the dinner table and mayan brought up egypt, and how she would love to go there for a family trip one day. we all agreed and then isadore sucked in her breath and proclaimed "i know exactly what i would wear when we got to egypt!" i just about died. i tried not to have a huge reaction but i looked right to blake with tears welling in my eyes, and his smiling look back told me "she's definitely your daughter!!" i just had to pull her into me then and laugh through my tears. ah, someone who understands!

on her 5th birthday, totally stoked on her new look

since then its been a pleasure watching the passion grow in her and her own style develop. everytime isaodre comes downstairs dressed she looks totally put together. she sees something in an article of clothing that i would miss--there is one pair of jeans in particular that she has loved to shreads, and no jeans has been able to replace them, something about the exact fit that captures her (she calls them her "sarah" jeans inspired by the character from the movie Labrynth.) not long ago, i bought her a pair of basic old navy boot cut jeans and she took them and thanked me politely. later she sighed to me how when she's older she will design a jeans that fit close to the legs, and she used her hands to show me how they would hug her legs. "sweetie," i said "they do make those. they are called skinny jeans." "They do?!" she replied ecstatically and the hunt began for the perfect pair of skinny jeans.

this is one of her first creations--using a diaper and a yoga strap, its a corset-style top...and of course with her beloved "sarah" jeans. where did she learn to work the camera like that??

our good friend Halle, who is a designer, came to visit this summer and she let Issy (who lived in her swimsuit pretty much the entire month of august) try on her "warrior" jewelry

its gotten to the point that i actually am inspired by HER. she is just so fresh and her look is aethetically clean, which i love. its not a bunch of randomness, she dresses with purpose. i have been teaching her different names for clothing, like the different types of jackets. she loves this character called carmen san diego who wears a red trench coat, so she's alwasy on the lookout for a red trench. she'll point something out and say "that's kind of like a carmen coat" and i say "thats called a pea coat" and we'll talk about the differences. while a small part of me has always critizied myself for what can seem like frivolous time spent talking about, looking at, shopping for clothing--i mean couldn't my energy be better spend on something more constructive?--but what i know, especially by watching it in isadore, is that you can't turn off a passion, you could stop shopping altogether (i practically have) and stick to jeans and a t-shirt everyday...but you would never stop observing and having a reaction to fashion. i know its like that for anyone's passion: you can ever really turn it off. so i am teaching isadore how to have balance. we don't need oodles of clothes, and we don't have to spend a lot of money on them either; we can't hold up the family looking for the perfect outfit, sometime we just have to be comfortable and move on. and when we do find that great look, we can give one good look in the mirror and pat ourselves on the back, but then lets go out in the world and be good people. not vain, not shallow--those things are not synonamous with fashion.

the latest look: vintage cat-eye glasses, a flowy feminine shirt, the ragged yet beloved "sarah" jeans, and sneakers

i've been looking for something special to do with isadore lately, since mayan, who loves music tens to get to go to the concerts (she can sit still a lot longer...) and i know isaodre can feel lieft out. imagaine my glee, when i saw in the paper that a fashion show called junk to funk was going to be all ages at the crystal ballroom. this event is a contest for designer to use trash, or materials that could be reused, to create fabulous couture and is sponsored by SCRAP. i knew my friend halle, who is a fashion designer, would be here in portland (she relocated from bend on novemebr 1st!) so we made a date, and isadore was SO excited--her first fashion show, AND it would be for a good cause, and to promote environmental consciousness.

the night of junk to funk: ready to rock it

last night was a blast--we got decked out and stayed up late, and being under those lights and right up against the runway was something neither of us will forget. each creation was inspiring and amazing...and the materials used were incredible! construction cones, tampon wrappers, tyvek mailers, inflatable matresses, coffee filters.....it ended being a great way for isadore to enjoy one of the reasons we moved here: culture, and also for us to bond over our love of all things fashionable. oh, my little fashionista, it was the first night of many, i hope!

left to right: andrea (halle's friend and favorite model), halle my-friend-who-loves-all-thing-fashion, me, and isadore (trying so hard to squeeze in she's making a face)

the outfit i voted for, made from construction site materials including a cone and barrier fencing. that is her real hair wrapped around wires!

me and my girl kickin' it on the runway, discussing the last set

six hands are louder than two

i've got a big post brewing for tomorrow about fashion and isadore. so here's just a little something to fill todays slot.....

when they are old and i'm older

i was trying to capture a baby-eats-lime moment, and ended up with a classic slice of life. we don't film our children very often ever since our video camera died years ago, and this made me remember how precious that footage can be. and while its not the most exciting footage ever, something like this will bring endless smiles and tears years down the road, when i can't believe that my babies were ever babies.

meet prince and princess snottyface

saturday is isadore and george's day to keep each other entertained, and last saturday they both had to same snotty, sneezy cold. now that george is old enough to actively play with the girls (or at least be dressed up and forced to play) he finds himself in all sorts of roles. isadore convinced me to put this shirt on him, over the fleece jacket he was already wearing, so the result, all you seinfeld fans, looked much like the infamous "puffy shirt." aren't they a comical pair.....too bad you can't see the crusty snot smears on their faces, that was the cutest part.

here, prince geo looks like he's relieving himself in the royal bushes:

officially over it, despite the princess' pleas

a post with some heart

what's wrong with me? i don't know. i can make all kind of excuses for not blogging--like our computer is on the fritz and i've been sucked into the facebook nexus instead...but really i think there is something deeper, and i can't quite put my finger on it. i have lots of things to say, but i seem to have this wall between me and the actual sitting down and writing process, even in my journal (which has always been sporadic and spans many different felt and leather books.) i feel something emotionally toxic building up inside me, as well: negativity, jealousies, unstoppable impatience, laziness. its amazing to me how forgiving my family has been, but i don't like what's going on. i feel like i've regressed a decade in maturity over just a few weeks, and i am not sure who or what to blame--i'd like to blame myself but in the past i've been able to pull myself up by my clog-straps when i've recognized a problem. i'm perplexed because i've been doing much for myself and my relationships: i work a few days a month outside the home making good money, i am exercising regularly, eating well and avoiding soy reactions, having nights-out once or twice a week with good company, blake and i are connected and getting along well, and my house is almost always tidy and clean. i should be tip-top!

but something is amiss. the worst part is my mothering. i'm awful right now--no where near being the kind of parent i want to be, approaches and philosophies be damned. my poor children get the brunt of my frustrations everytime. i find myself apologizing for my riduculous outbursts too often. most concerning is how this affects my relationship with mayan, who even on our best days have to work at a connection. to remove her from the mine field of my potential rants, which do nothing for her self-worth, she has been spending more days at nomad, where she is very happy to play chess and being the nomad assistant (she now sets up for piercings and stocks needles from the back.)

somehow isadore weathers these storms with more grace than any five year old i've ever met. a few days ago, i was coming down pretty hard on mayan over something stupid i'm sure, like housework or homework, and isadore witnessed the whole event from her barstool, while coloring and practicing her handwriting. mayan had stormed off bubbling with anger and i let her go so i could allow myself to calm down. isadore casually climbed down from her stool and into the kitchen and began to do a little housework, and as she did this she mused, "i love you, mom." and when i say "mused" i really mean that--it was not some please-don't-turn-that-anger-toward-me attempt, it was relaxed and matter-of-fact. i was stunned by it and plainly said "isadore, how can you say that after my terrible outburst?"

"i don't care about that. i only care that i love you," she told me.

at this point i had to sit down. i was in awe of her unconditional love, such a stark contrast of my own example i'd just set, and could only say "where did you come from??"

she smiled and leaned on the counter and replied, "i come from my heart."

maybe that's what missing for me right now--a path to my heart. i don't seem to operating from that place, so how could i possiby write without that source? i have much to learn from all of my children, and right now isadore is my top mentor--her forgiveness, her bravery, her big wide-open heart. i'd like to be like that when i grow up.

i can't promise i will start writing again any time soon. although i will say writing this feels pretty darn good. i don't feel depressed per se, which i've experienced before so i am not sure what to pursue to feel better. i can promise i will continue to try and put my finger on it; that never stops for me. i'm alwasy examining and reflecting on my behavior, just lately it feel like the "do-er" and "reflector" are two different people, worlds apart. in the meantime, i just hope and pray that my children are well-equipped with their grouchy-mama-repellant rain gear.

nomad week (or two) in review

last weekend (the one before memorial day) we visited the beach that is most directly west of us, Ecola Beach in Cannon Beach. look how big and handsome this boy is getting! he pretty much ate sand and threw fits everytime we saved him from face-planting in the tide pools--he's officially a toddler!


they have great tidepools there; plenty of starfish and anenomes...it was little chilly but it didn't stop the girls from wearing their swim suits...
then last wednesday, blake was invited to lecture at the portland bead society. we came along for support--it went great! blake had those ladies rollin' and everyone gushed over the kids.
he spoke about bead use in tribal culture, and brought many examples from africa mostly, although he also talked about pre-columbian examples, native american, and asian. after the talk people were able to look closely at the jewelry and the maasai book, asked him questions, shared their own stories.
the next day i took mayan out the our second Homeschool Day at the evergreen space museum in mcminnville. they host homeschool kids from 9:30 to 2 with a lecture, workshops, and games all focused around one theme--this time it was astronomy. here is the big inflatable planetarium she is about to go into.
so i have recently read this book about the effect of anxious parents on their growing children. at first i poo-poohed it, but as i read further it made a lot of sense. i started to realize that the kids need more experiences without blake and i hovering over them. especially mayan who is old enough now to figure out many things on her own, and needs to know that she can problem-solve, and succeed in new situations without her ever-present attachment figures. its time for us to be that "voice in her head" or image in her mind, after the many years of nurturing. so in that vein, since she'd been to one of these before, i let her do the day on her own, only meeting her for lunch break. when i told her i would be doing this she hugged my legs and said "thank you thank you thank you...i am going to feel like such a BIG KID!" she had a blast, but when i went to pick her up, with my newfound focus on de-hovering, i saw this and had to take a picture: nearly every child had parent at their side, jumping in and assisting with every craft and activity. last time that was ME!
so to continue this, the day after i sent mayan into trader joes by herself to pickup her special rice bread (it was the only thing i needed there.) she was so jazzed about it--i gave her instructions which she focused on intently then set her off on her mission while i stayed outside with the kids. here she comes running back with her bag of bread.
oh, the look (and feel) of success! i have noticed mayan's confidence growing, and myself have been more aware of my shift toward clinging to the idea of "my babies" and my resistance to them getting older, and being able to find joy in my children becoming more independent. it's been a very positve shift for me and blake to make.

here is mayan working at her bead shop on a custom order from myself. she and blake built a special store-front for her business and she is open saturdays, noon to six. she is building quite a customer base....an entrepeneur like her dad!

sweet George, his hair get more and more delicious every day!
blake organized his office this weekend and gave some attention to his special Star Trek room...looking very good! (i HAVE mentioned this room before, haven't I?)

fast-forward to today...today was about beauty and organization. i wandered into my sewing room and began sorting through the many boxes of clothing.....and suddenly my whole day had past. the kids clothes are sorted: baby items, girls stuff size 6 months to 3 years, girls stuff size 4-6, and finally a box for George clothes, and also items to be returned to other people. i discovered soem things i had not seen in a very long time, especially some great vintage pieces--for those that don't know have a pretty huge vintage clothing collection, although most of which i will not ever be able to wear again unless i lose thirty pounds...i am clinging to the clothes, as i cling to the hope!

the roses are blooming and i made this lovely arrangement for our table.
last night i tried to make hamburger buns from scratch but sof course, i struggled with the yeast and they did not rise properly, so they turned out like denser mini-buns. tasty though! for lunch today i used them to make tuna sliders. cute, huh?

vegetarians looketh away

I was packing up the leftover prime rib (for sandwiches, awww, yeah) and Isadore insisted she get to pick the meat off the bones. Her words exactly when I told her to have at it?

"It's MEAT TIME!"

PS I made my first cheesecake. I cannot eat store bought cheesecake and it's been exactly one since I've had it last. Cheesecake is my "last meal" food. Add cranberries and...well, I think the picture says it all.

The Sugar Fairy

Halloween is one of our family's favorite holidays, however it presents a prickly problem for the child who is food allergic. Since Mayan was old enough to participate in the festivities, we had to come up with a solution to allow the fun of trick or treating but not make her feel left out when it came time to consume the goods. I am not sure where the idea came from, possibly on-line, but since then, every October 31st, our family gets a visit from "The Sugar Fairy."

The Sugar Fairy, you see, needs sugar to feed to her sugar babies--they will die without an adequate sugar diet. Halloween is the night the Sugar Fairy harvests sugary candy treats, and leaves the children other gifts in return. In the past it is usually some wooden toys, a specialty allergen-friendy chocolate or cookie, and a toothbrush. Yes, that's right, in our house our children trade their candy for a toothbrush.

Depending on how you look at it we are either really great parents or really terrible parents.

Last night, we headed to a Halloween Party and stopped off at Nomad to pick up Blake and eat some dinner I brought from home. In order to keep their costumes clean, I was feeding bites of rice and beef and green beans to the girls. Isadore would dance over to me (she was a kitty ballerina) and would say "trick or treat!" and I'd feed her a green bean, then she'd laugh and sing "We get vegetables and toothbrushes instead of candy!" This is when it hits me, in a comical sense of course: Wow, what terrible parents we are! We have tricked out children into being perfectly okay with trading CANDY, the glorious nectar of childhood, with TOOTHBRUSHES, the traditional object related to the bane of childhood experiences: going to the dentist. If nothing else, we must be wickedly genius!

After stopping at the store, to purchase the treats for the later switch-a-roo, we arrive at the party. Now there are "big girls" there--three gals that Mayan and Isadore know and are about 9 years old. These girls know all about Halloween. It was the dads who were in charge of taking the group of kids around the neighborhood, and from what I hear everyone had a fine time. (The moms hung back and enjoyed the lovely spread of food and beverages.) When the group returned, Mayan and Isadore informed me they were headed upstairs "to sort our candy." It occured to me that this must be what the other kids do since this was not custom in our home--why would it be, of course, the Sugar Fairy normally accepts one big unsorted pile. Blake and I obliged, and retreated to the kitchen for some grown-up conversation. As we are laughing and joking, and eating it hits me: My daughters are up there with their candy and their big girls telling everyone that "We cant eat our candy...we give it to the Sugar Fairy for her Sugar Babies, and get toothbrushes instead!" with sweet grateful smiles on their sweet little faces. I remind myself that, it may not be perfectly clear that this practice is not exactly considered normal. I had this vision of Mayan coming downstairs, hands-on hips, with Isadore at her heel, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, sassily barking "Hey, we've just been informed that we're getting the shitty end of the stick on this Halloween deal! Toothbrushes are for suckers!"

I sent Blake up to check on the happenings. He briskly came down a minute later, looking for the camera. "That good, huh?" I asked. "Oh, man, you have to see this," he explained. "It's like the Nasdaq of halloween candy." Sure enough the girls were up there literally auctioning off candy, items spread out and sorted to a startlingly organized fashion. I heard River say "Alright, next up we have, 3 snickers bars and 2 three Musketeers!" Among the bunk bed and girly perfume bottles, we had a little Wall Steet, only the traders we dressed as a zombie-cheerleader, a goth, a China doll, and a Starship Enterprise officer.

The mommy in me wanted to make sure Mayan wasn't getting taken advantae of so I leaned in a said "Hey Mayan, make sure you are getting a fair deal..." Tanaya, the oldest, looked at me somewhat surprised and said "Are you kidding? She's been tough." Hee, hee, her father's daughter. We snapped a shot and left them be.

So much for my vision of the girls getting thier hearts crushed by seeing the "real" Halloween candy experience. Of course, I should have known better. This whole "Sugar Fairy" thing has always been given with a heavy dose of "wink, wink, nudge, nudge." Mayan only participates because she wants to delight in the imagination--when pressed she will admit "I know it's only you and Papa." But she enjoys playing along--she told me when I came back to the car after going into the store "Mom, I think I saw the Sugar Fairy in there!" The truth is Mayan has adapted amazingly well to her special "the-food-sensitive-kid" affliction. She rarely fusses or feels bad for herself when she is around things she can't eat. I've always made a big effort to make her things that are comparable to the food and treats served at social events we attend, but I just can't cover all of my bases 100% of the time and there are times she goes without. The most impressive part to me is that she respects what her body is telling her--she is not avoiding food becasue I tell her not to eat them but becasue she knows she is healthier when she avoids her trigger foods. I know this because I have overheard her many times or been told by friends that have had her in their care. When presented with strange foods, she states "Oh no, I can't--I'm allergic." Somehow, and I can't really take the credit, she has learned to embrace that which makes her different. The events of last night only compounded this revelation for me. I really think that although Mayan wants to fit in most of the time with her peers, she has the confidence to stand out when it counts.

As soon as we got home the girls left their brimming baskets on the counter and I hustled them upstairs to get into pjs so I could make the switch. Like a mad women I stuffed a produce bag full of the mini-candy bars, lollipops, and tootsie rolls, and hucked them in top shelf of the pantry. In each girl's basket I placed a brand new Hello Kitty toothbrush and a bag of corn-free, fruit-juice-sweetened, no artifical color gummy worms and jelly beans. Just in time to hear the approaching feet running down the stairs.

The girls were very pleased with their treats--they made big fuss over the Hello Kitty brushes ("Mine is a cowgirl!! Oooooh, Isadore yours is an asian kitty with a dragon!") I let them have some jelly beans and a gummy worm each. Blake had tears in his eyes when he saw how grateful and excited they were for their goodies. I guess we have managed to not strip the joy from the holiday that is notorious for letting children stuff face and bug out on refined sugar. In fact, as I went to kiss them goodnight Mayan showed me the thank you card she was making for the Sugar Fairy. It reads:

thank you shoogirfary for all the goodys. ar the toothbrushes magic? and the gumy worms taste grate. happy holleween shoogirfary!

It's accompanied by a picture of the fairy and her wand hovering over two baskets each containing one toothbrush and one bag of candy, appropriately labeled.

Happy Halloween to you too, dear, Happy Halloween.

Lukie-biotics

Bugs think Isadore is a tasty treat, and they always have. These bites at times get swollen and infected, but usually nothing a little ointment doesn't clear up. On one of last warm nights we had, we stupidly left the window open by her bed and the next morning she had a bunch of what looked like mosquito bites, two of which were on her hand and were causing some swelling. I spent the day icing it and using homeopathics and various ointments to no avail. that night she actually cried in pain unitl I finally gave her some ibuprofen to help her sleep. I though for sure a night of no scratching would cause the (assumed) allergic reaction to subside but nope, it looked awful. I brought her into the pediatrician that afternoon and the minute they saw it they exclaimed that it was not an allergic reaction but that her hand was infected. In addition to a course of antibiotics (they were worried about staph), she instucted me to do what I had to to keep her arm raised as much as possible. "Something you don't normally do...like let her watch some nature videos," the doctor said, which made me realize she must think we are uber-pure hippies with zero-tolerance for tv and media, which gave me an inner chuckle.

When I spoke to my sister (an ER nurse) later that day she told me that she frequently has to construct makeshift slings to keep peoples arms raised in cases like this. So I promptly got off the phone and looked around the house....I ended up using a camera tripod and an American Apparel scarf to hoist Lukies arm in the air. I plopped some puzzles and books in front of her and she patiently occupied herself until dinnertime. The swelling went down by the next morning and we'll be wrapping up the antibiotics next week.

Parenthood is such a trip, as these little experiences add themselves up, and we learn a little something each time. For one, I realized that I just sometimes really don't know if something is serious or not, because by the time I got to the ped's office I was sure I was wasting their time with a mere bug bite, but no, they had that medical "eye" and knew it was out of the realm of "normal." Second, it didn't occur to me that something as simple as building a sling out of common household items could be so helpful...once I knew there was a serious problem and my "alternative medicine" toolbox was cashed, I only saw the "big gun" medicines (over the counter drugs and antibiotics) which are so rarely used by our family. Finding a combination of different treatments is such a case by case balance.

You were a champ, Lukie-Lou!