Breathing

Within a day or so after Zeben was born, we were told that our new baby was breathing faster than perhaps he "should" be. The average newborn baby takes 30-60 respirations per minute. Zeb was born breathing with a respiration rate of 60 rpm, but over the course of the next couple of days, it increased to where it was more like 80-100 rpm. We were sent home from the birth center with a suspected diagnosis of "transient tachypnea [the medical word for fast breathing] of the newborn" (TTN), something that happens to 2% of babies born by c-section (which Zeben was), a condition that generally goes away within the first few days. Zeben's breathing, however, did not seem to improve at all during our first days at home. When he was a week old, I finally broke down and called the pediatrician. I told the nurse on the phone that my newborn was breathing really fast. She poo-poohed my concern and assured me that all newborn babies breathe fast. When I told her that he was, at that moment, breathing at a rate of 88 rpm, while sleeping, she had me bring him in to the office right away. And a few hours later we were being sent to the Emergency Room at the local children's hospital for testing.

The first tests they did on him were all to rule out infection. Then they ruled out a problem with his heart. And then someone wondered if maybe it was just that he had really small nasal passages, and Zeben was subjected to all sorts of tubes and miniature cameras being stuck up his nose. We were first admitted to the hospital two nights before Thanksgiving, and it seemed that most of the senior doctors were soon gone on vacation. Which left us sitting around for hours on end, waiting for one specialist or another. Zeben was hooked up to monitors that didn't even work because he was breathing too fast for them. My baby and I spent three nights sleeping in a plastic fold-out chair next to the hospital crib/cage where I refused to put my newborn. Zeben had a roommate, a 10-month-old baby with a horrible sounding cough (bronchiolitis) and whose mother left the television on 24 hours a day. Even when she was talking on the phone. Even when she was sleeping through her baby's cries. It was awful. And I was so consumed with anxiety about my little panting baby. Sometimes I would try to breathe as quickly as he was--it's not easy to breathe that fast!--in hopes that once our breaths were synchronized I'd be able to slow his breathing down. But all that would happen is that I'd be breathing really fast too, which would only increase my level of anxiety.

On Thanksgiving, an hour or so after I'd finally fallen asleep with Zeben on my chest, I woke up to the most horrific sound I've ever heard. Screaming. The most heart-wrenching screaming you can imagine. Sobbing, pleading, banging . . . footsteps running in the halls from all directions. Someone's child had died. I lay there, silently sobbing to myself, feeling so lost and so alone.

The day after Thanksgiving, we were discharged without any answers. Zeb was still breathing too fast, but otherwise seemed fine. I brought him back to his pediatrician for a follow-up appointment and the pediatrician asked, "so what did the pulmonologist think?" And I realized that in the three days we'd spent holed up in the hospital, there had never once been mention of a pulmonary consult. For our baby with breathing issues. Our pediatrician was outraged and quickly arranged for Zeb to be seen by a pediatric pulmonologist. A few days later, we were back in the hospital under the direction of the new specialist, with a private room and a real bed to sleep in. Zeben was subjected to yet more tubes in his nose, more x-rays, more blood tests. And once again we were shocked by the extreme lack of communication between the doctors we saw. I remember one doctor coming in and saying, "So how's the baby doing?" And I replied, "well, he's great, aside from breathing too fast." The doctor looked alarmed. "He's breathing fast?!" And I said, "Um, yeah, that's WHY WE'RE HERE!" I would ask what, exactly, certain tests were looking for, and be told, "well, this test will tell us whether or not he's _______ (insert any number of possibilities: refluxing, aspirating, etc.) . . . but even if he is, that wouldn't be causing him to breathe fast." It was agonizing.

We decided to switch to Children's Hospital in Boston, 2 hours away. The difference in the quality of care was immediately evident. The pulmonologists at Children's were just as puzzled about Zeb's case (on the day we first went to Boston, Zeb was 4 weeks old and breathing at a rate of 120 rpm), but they seemed much more competent, regardless. Zeben weighed 13 lbs. at his first visit, and the doctor laughed when she saw him. Any 4-week-old baby who had already gained 3 lbs. (Zeb dropped down to 10 lbs. after birth) couldn't possibly have anything serious wrong with him. And rather than do any further testing, the doctors at Children's simply requested that we bring Zeben back every 4 weeks for a few months to make sure that he was still thriving despite his "struggles" to breathe.

In the end we learned that our newborn baby had been perfectly healthy all along. By the time he was 4 months old, he had outgrown his tachypnea habit, and no longer needed to see any pulmonologists at all. It took me much longer to quit my habit of counting his respirations and worrying incessantly about him. I felt like I suffered from a form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it was probably not until Zeb was a year old that I truly believed he was fine.

Two nights ago, Zeben woke up with a croup cough just as I was going to bed. He was struggling to breathe and couldn't relax enough to latch on and nurse. Lukas tends to get a croup cough in the night with every cold, so we are well versed in the croup routine. But this was the first time I'd been through it with Zeb. I bundled us up in some down sleeping bags, and brought him outside into the cold night air. He was breathing so raspily and so quickly. I found myself trying my old trick of matching his respirations and then gradually slowing them down in the hopes that he would match me. And this time, it worked. He started breathing more easily and relaxed his head onto my chest. And we stood underneath the stars and I felt so thankful. For the body of my croupy, but otherwise perfectly healthy 2-year-old son snuggled heavily in my arms. I couldn't help but realize that once again it was two nights before Thanksgiving, and I was up late worrying about my baby's breathing. It was a bit of a trigger for my old anxiety, but this time I knew that everything would be okay. Eventually I tried to transition Zeb back inside, but he started coughing again and puked all over me, so we ended up going for the steamy shower method. It worked well, and before long we were back in bed, nursing and then sleeping peacefully.

Thanksgiving will always have new meaning for me after the Thanksgiving I spent with Zeb in the hospital. Eating hospital cafeteria mashed potatoes and googling potential syndromes that Zeben might have. Listening to those parents cry. Missing my big boys who I'd left at home, and missing Lena who was staying with them. Today, Thanksgiving two years later, I really did feel so grateful to just be with my family. My grumpy Lukas. My weepy Jaz. My croupy Zeben. My tired wife. I am so grateful for this life, for this love, for the gift of health. Thank you.

Sweet Baby Linus

Sweet baby Linus was born to my friend Megan after a heroic 43 weeks and 6 days of pregnancy. He was, of course, well worth the wait, and is one of the most delicious newborns I've ever seen.

In recognition of his juiciness, I chose a pear print when making him a tiny t-shirt.


And then some green pear-colored merino for his wool pants (which double as a diaper cover):

An all together juicy and fallish outfit.

Welcome, Linus Foster! We're so glad you're here!

Goodbye Nap

Goodbye Nap. Goodbye rest. Goodbye to three hours of quiet in the afternoon. Goodbye to well-rested toddlers and projects completed. Goodbye to long, peaceful baths all alone. And goodbye to "grown-up" time with the big kids, when they are home.


Zeben is no longer allowed to nap. We've noticed over the past month or so that on the days Zeben would take one of his lovely, lengthy 3 hour naps (which we so deserved after surviving our napless twins), there was an unfortunate consequence of a lack of ability for him to fall asleep at bedtime. Like, he'd still be awake at 10:30 p.m. when Lena and I would finally give in and decide to just go to bed with him. Usual bedtime in our house is 7:00-7:30 p.m. And we cherish the few hours of kid-free time that come after the little ones are asleep. We need that time to recharge our parental batteries. To enjoy each other. To remember that this is fun.

So, I decided to try a little experiment and not put Zeb down for a nap one day. And, he did really fine. He stayed chipper and pleasant throughout the afternoon and promptly fell asleep at 7:00 p.m. after only a couple minutes (as opposed to a couple hours) of nursing. And, just like that, we said goodbye to naps.

Except, of course, for the type of nap that happens on the kitchen floor when the too-tired-to-keep-his-eyes-open two-year-old just falls asleep admist the chaos of dinner preparation. And I do let him sleep a bit when this happens. I wake him up after about 30 minutes or so, and he just gets right back to what he was doing before he fell asleep. We've been loving having him take a quick cat nap in our laps or lying on our chests. It's like he's a baby again. And a big kid. All at once.

Big Brothers

In celebrating Zeben's birthday last week, we also celebrated the fact that Luke and Jaz have been big brothers for two years now. For the most part, they really are some of the sweetest big brothers ever. Of course they have their moments of wanting nothing to do with the shortest member of our family, but that is definitely not the norm. I think part of the sibling harmony between the older boys and Zeben comes from their age difference (3 years, 9 months) and part comes from the fact that Luke and Jaz never had to transition from being the only child to being the oldest child. They were used to sharing our attention, and if anything, the addition of a third attention-getter has only calmed the sibling rivalry in our house.

From the very beginning, we told the kids that Zeben was their baby, and they treated him as such, telling Lena and me how to take care of him, when to nurse him, when to pick him up. They never expressed any jealousy at all about the time it took for us to attend to Zeben's needs (on the contrary, they'd often yell at me to "pick up the baby! He wants you! Now!"). Watching their excitement as he grew and changed made his infancy so much more exciting for Lena and me. After he was born, we couldn't wait for the kids to come and meet him at the hospital. Here are some video clips of Lukas and Jasper that were taken the day after Zeben was born (and if you think 2-day-old Zeb looks like the biggest newborn baby ever, it's because he was). Jaz is telling Lena about all of the things he will teach his baby brother how to do.



Lukas was clearly excited, but not quite as articulate! (We love to watch these two clips in sequence to illustrate some of the differences between Luke and Jaz).




The other evening, as I was doing dishes, I heard a lot of laughter coming from the playroom and decided to go spy on what the kids were doing. If they saw me, it could change the whole energy of the play, so I just stuck my camera into the doorway and managed to remain unseen (and they continued playing for another 20 minutes or so). This is what was happening:



It is so heartwarming to witness all three of our sons having such a great time together. It really does make the hard work of it all seem totally worth it. I also appreciate the individual relationships that Lukas and Jasper each have with Zeben. Out of the three kids, Lukas and Zeben are the most alike (in appearance, according to the general public (as I've said before, I think Zeb looks slightly more like Jaz than like Luke), and in personality, according to me), and I think they have a special bond because of this. Zeben calls Lukas "brother," as if it's his name (though he also calls him "Dukas" sometimes, more often than not he's just "brother"). If they had been the twins, we probably would have gotten many more "are they identical?" questions (as is, it was amazing how many people asked us that about Luke and Jaz, who barely even looked related).

Part of the similarity is just their coloring, and I imagine this will be even more striking once Zeben gets his freckles (he has a faint splattering across his nose at this point; they'll probably explode next summer).


Along with the coloring, Zeben seems to have inherited the same "highly sensitive" traits that Lukas has, and luckily for him, we're already well-practiced in how to help him manage his feelings. At the moment he's going through a phase of being terrified of the bathtub, and Lukas went through a similar phase (though not quite as extreme) when he was Zeben's age. Luke and Zeb have a really special thing in the mornings, because they both wake up before the rest of us and start playing together in bed. Luke can get frustrated when Zeben has an especially nursing-heavy wake-up, but if Zeben is game, it brings out the best in Luke and the two of them will often play for up to an hour while Lena, Jaz and I are trying to sleep. Zeben used to be somewhat afraid of Lukas, I think because Luke could just be so intense with him, hugging him too tightly, wanting to control him too much, and Zeb definitely used to prefer Jaz. But I've been noticing lately that if Zeben gets mad at me and Lena's not home, he'll cry out, "I need Brother!" and a hug from Luke can make it all better (you know, like when I tell Zeben "no!" after he's thrown my laptop on the floor).

Jaz and Zeb have a very steady and calm relationship. They both adore each other. I can't really think of a time when they've fought, though Jaz is perhaps less likely to engage with Zeben than Lukas is. He's also less likely to challenge him if Zeben takes something of his or wants something that Jaz is using. Jaz always has smiles for Zeb and I'm especially fond of the "he is soooo cute!" smile that he gives him when Zeben does something especially adorable. He does whatever he can to make Zeben happy. I think he tends to appreciate Zeben's babyness more than Lukas does (for Lukas it's frustrating, and for Jaz it's endearing), and he really wants to take care of him. Lately, Zeb has taken to calling out, "good-bye Jazzy!" when we drop the big kids off at school. I love it! While Jaz and Zeb may not be as alike as Luke and Zeb, my guess is that their relationship will always be relatively easy just because they appreciate each other so deeply.

Don't they look alike?

Both Luke and Jaz are always asking me, "how old will Zeben be when we're 8?" or "how old will we be when Zeben's 5?" It is hard for them to imagine him ever being as big as they are in this moment. They talk about how when Lena and I are "old ladies," they'll take care of Zeben, as if he will morph into being their son when they grow up. I can only hope that Zeb will enjoy these surrogate parents as he gets older, that he will see his two big brothers as an asset and not just more people telling him what to do. Because I think he's pretty lucky to have Luke and Jaz, to be growing up in their shadows, yes, but also in the extra bright spotlight created by not 2, but 4 sets of loving eyes shining directly on him.

Bagels and Balloons

Yesterday we celebrated Zeben's birthday by having a bagel brunch in his honor. We had debated about whether or not to have a party for him--clearly at age 2, he has no concept of what a birthday party is, and wouldn't miss it if we didn't have one--it's not the best time of year to host any gathering, especially not in our smallish house. And there was also some question as to what the party would entail if we did have one. Being the former preschool teacher that I am, I'm always eager to go way over board with the party activities. We didn't have a party when Luke and Jaz turned two (we were in the midst of moving), but for their 3rd and 4th birthday parties, we had puzzle-making, treasure hunts, and homemade piñatas, along with serving lunch and cupcakes. When they turned 5, we didn't have a party at all because I felt like I was still recovering from the fourth birthday extravaganza.

But I wanted to do something for Zeb, in part because we've now instituted our new gift policy (each child receives only one gift on any given holiday), and I didn't want "no presents" to mean "no celebration." And, of course, there was my usual, "any excuse for a party!" reason to do something. So, on Tuesday evening we settled on having a Saturday morning birthday brunch, and quickly sent out evite invitations. We decided to keep things easy by providing bagels (from a local café) and toppings and having the "theme" of the party be simply "balloons."

We bought 30 helium balloons and I quickly sewed up some little bean bag balloon weights (which doubled as party favors). I used scraps of canvas fabric leftover from previous baby carriers, turned some printed fabric into iron-on appliques, and added a snip of ribbon to the seam of each bean bag so that balloons could be easily attached.

A pile of balloon weights

On Thursday night, I taught myself how to make things out of long-skinny, "balloon animal" type balloons. The internet is full of incredibly helpful instructional videos, and I was quickly hooked on this new hobby (and I now lust after the "faster blaster" balloon pump). With Lukas and Jasper's encouragement, I mastered pirate and knight swords, several different hats, and the octopus.

The beginning of the party

Elijah and Aryeh with their swords

Jaz holding out the Octopus

The head of a teddy bear that Lena made
(the body, unfortunately, did not survive)

Jasper's very own balloon creation

Aryeh all decked out

And, of course, there was a cake. Actually, there were two cakes since I ended up making a mini gluten-free cake for Lukas. I always use this fabulous carrot cake recipe (for the gluten-free version, I simply substitute gluten-free flour mix for the flour):

ingredients:

3 cups flour
2 cups sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
2 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. cinammon
1 tsp. salt

21 tbsp. melted butter
4 eggs
2 cups shredded carrots
1 cup crushed pineapple
2 tsp. vanilla

procedure:

1. Sift together dry ingredients
2. Beat together wet ingredients
3. Add the dry to the wet, mix well
4. bake in buttered pans at 350° for 40 minutes

Zeben (wearing his "2" shirt that I made him, and which he wore for 3 days straight, refusing to take it off, saying "I want to be twooooo!"), getting ready to blow out his TWO candles:

Lukas with his gluten-free cake:

Yum.

It is hard to believe that there were 12 adults, 10 kids, and 2 babies all together in our house (it was pouring rain outside), and it didn't even feel especially crowded (though it was plenty loud). Already today our house is back to normal, aside from a dozen or so remaining helium balloons, which are now slowly making their way towards the floor. And now, I suppose, we sit back and let the wild rumpus of life with a two-year-old start!

Happy Birthday to my Baby

Two years ago on this day, I was lying in a hospital bed with a warm, fresh-from-the-womb, baby Zeb on my chest. He was the fattest baby I had ever seen at 10 lbs., 10 oz and 21 inches long. He was all chub and rolls, and I wanted to eat him. Today he is two years old, and I still want to eat him. "No eat my ear, mom," he told me last night when I went in for a nibble. Zeben is, and has always been, such a joyful addition to our family. Quick to smile, and quick to make all the rest of us laugh, he has made this journey so much more fun. We feel so lucky to have him here with us.


We still refer to Zeb as "the baby," and in many ways he still is such a baby. A talking baby, but a baby nonetheless. And it is so much fun to get to hear all of his little baby thoughts--things that I'm sure he's been thinking about for quite some time, but that he's only recently been able to verbalize. The other day I was nursing him down for a nap on my mom's bed, and the wind was whipping and whistling around the outside of the house. I could tell from his expression, while he sucked away, that he was trying to figure out what this noise was and if it was scary or not. Eventually, he popped off and said, "I hear Mana's [Zeb's pronunciation of 'Nama'] tea!" How cool to experience him making these connections! Lukas and Jasper are the most appreciative of any developmental leap that Zeben takes. "Zeben is really like a kid now," Jaz said to me the other day, "he's only got a teensy bit of baby left in him." It's true. And I will cherish those last remaining bits of baby for as long as I can, even as I celebrate all of the bigness that Zeben is becoming.


For the past few nights, Zeben has reverted to nursing continuously through the night. I can only hope that it is due to teething and isn't simply his new plan for what nighttime sleeping should look like. I say "reverted," though truthfully he never really was a big nighttime nurser before, certainly not as a newborn or an infant. And I say "nursing," though in actuality I think what he's doing is more about attaching himself to my breast via his mouth than it is about transferring milk to his belly. He doesn't necessarily do a whole lot of sucking, but when I try to unlatch him, he wakes up and roots around gruntily until he's suctioned himself back on. Just like when he was new. And while, a year ago, a phase of nighttime neediness probably wouldn't have affected me much at all, I've noticed a shift in my tolerance levels now that Zeben is the big two-year-old that he is. Zeben's needs no longer feel quite as needy to me, rather they're seeming quite wantish, and I struggle between giving in to him or giving in to my frustration and limiting his access to my body. For the past 2 years and 9 months, my body has belonged to me and to Zeben, pretty equally. And now, I suppose, I am feeling like maybe I want it to be a little more mine again. 60-40 maybe? 70-30? And yet the thought of turning him away makes me want to weep and scoop him up in my arms, and squeeze him tight and make him promise to be my baby forever.


"I love you, Mom" he says after kissing me on the nose.
"How much?" I ask, "how much do you love me?"
"A big one," he says, smiling, "and a tiny one too."

Here is a video we made the other day of Zeb singing. He loves to make movies of himself singing and then watch them over and over again:



And, because I can't help myself:

Zeben the newborn:
Zeben the one-year-old:
And, now, Zeben the two-year-old:
Happy Birthday, Zeben Sky!

Introducing Ezra Star!

Very early on the morning of October 26th, my amazing big sister birthed her sweet baby boy, Ezra Star, after less than 4 hours of labor. He was born at home into his Papa's hands, and greeted moments later by his big sister, Araela Grace.

It is at times like this that it is especially painful to live so far away from my sister and her family. All I want to do is to be able to go over to their house and clean, do laundry, and prepare meals while my sister relaxes in her babymoon. Being able to make things for the baby helps me to release some of the frustration I feel about not being able to be there. I send my love in a box.

Two pairs of wool pants (these can double as cloth diaper covers) that I made using the picky pants pattern from Little Turtle Knits (I love the enclosed elastic waistband!):


And two tiny t-shirts:

Welcome, Baby Ezra!

Hardcore

I decided not to give up on the bakfiets as a viable means of transporting the kids in cold weather. And with a little rearranging, I was able to find a way to keep them both warm and helmeted in the box. First, I took the seats out (the front seat snaps out, and the back seat folds up), and covered the floor of the box with cushions (much like I did when giving my mom a ride). I added a sheepskin for extra warmth, comfort and coziness.

Lastly, I tossed in some fleece blankets and then
covered the box with the rain cover to block the wind.

The kids can fit with their helmets on because the lack of benches gives them extra head room under the cover. Luke and Jaz sit next to each other in the back, and Zeben sits rear-facing in the front. It is definitely a warm and cozy solution.

It felt so great to be able to ride into town without listening to a soundtrack of complaints about the temperature. The kids don't exactly love the new set-up (Lukas especially feels a bit claustrophobic whenever he first gets in), but they're being pretty tolerant. I think it looks like heaven in there (I would have loved it as a kid), and the kids are definitely kept toasty warm despite the frosty mornings. The only difficulty is that I've lost all of my under-the-benches storage space, and I need to figure out a better storage solution for the back rack. And it was too cold for me to wear my helmet, so I need to find some type of hat that works with helmets.

When I arrived at the boys' school on the first 35° morning with the new winterized version of the bakfiets, many of the other parents congratulated me with awe. "Wow," they said. "That's hardcore." And, I have to say, I kind of agree. I did feel hardcore, hardcore and free.

Jinx! 1, 2, 3 . . .

One week. That's how long it took. Last Saturday I caught myself remarking to a friend about how, despite the fact that each of our children has required a trip to the ER (Lukas aspirated a peanut when he was 2, Jaz fell out of a two-story window when he was 3, and Zeben was breathing too fast as a newborn), none of the kids has ever needed stitches. It IS rather remarkable, given the extreme physicality of our kids (especially Jaz, who has had NINE black eyes so far), but I realized as I was saying it that it's probably not the kind of thing one should say out loud. Counting my blessings before they've split their heads open on a wooden toy.

Yesterday afternoon, Jaz came into the kitchen, whimpering a little. He'd been playing some sort of silly running-around-the-house-getting-progressively-more-naked game, and had apparently bonked himself somewhere.

"Where are you hurt?" Lena and I both asked before noticing the blood splash, splash, splashing onto his back from his head. We grabbed a cloth, and then worked our way through his mop of bloody hair to discover the source of the bleeding, and found a gash that definitely looked like it needed stitches. We decided to call the doctor to see if we could just bring him into University Health Services (where our insurance prefers us to go if possible) or if we needed to take him to the dreaded hospital. The best part of the conversation:

Nurse: "How did he get hurt?"
Me: "He fell and hit his head on a toy."
Nurse: "What kind of toy?"
Me: "A wooden toy."
Nurse: "What kind of wooden toy, exactly?"
Me: "A boat designed to transport trains??!!"
Nurse: "Well, you should bring him in then."

So Lena wrapped his head up in a bandage and brought him in, and he did need stitches. Four stitches, to be exact.

Jaz really wasn't in much pain at all, and was actually rather thrilled to hear that he'd be going to the doctor to get stitched up. Poor Lukas was a bit of a wreck while Lena and Jaz were gone (while Jaz is usually the one getting badly hurt/almost drowning/falling out the window/etc., Lukas has had to go through the trauma of watching all of these events unfold, which in some ways must be more damaging than if it were his body getting beat up), and then only the tiniest bit jealous once his brother returned, beaming, with thread in his head.

And I have learned my lesson. I will certainly not be telling anyone about the miracle of the fact that none of the kids has broken a bone yet. Yikes. Did I just jinx myself again?

Samhain

Yesterday we celebrated Samhain ("Sow-en"), a.k.a. Halloween with the kids. While Samhain is generally seen as a holiday to honor and remember the dead, we didn't really take that angle this year (though I hope to in the future). Instead, we focused mainly on the fact that we are entering the dark time of year and the end of the harvest season. The pumpkins are one of the last vegetables to be harvested, and we turn them into lanterns to help light up the dark nights. Lena, Lukas, Jasper and I each carved a pumpkin. We had a great, gooey time of it.

And the final results were pretty fabulous:

Lukas' Lantern

Jasper's Lantern

Lena's Lantern

My Lantern

All of the pumpkin lanterns looked especially great once it got really dark out.

We also celebrated in the more traditional, American culture way, by getting dressed up and going trick-or-treating. The kids' ideas about what they want to "be" for Halloween often fluctuate right up until the actual day. Two years ago, Lukas was going to be a shark, but then decided that his shark costume was too scary, and instead dressed as a lion, but told everyone that he was "actually a worm." So I have never taken it upon myself to invest huge amounts of time in crafting any costumes, lest they end up being rejected at the last minute. My mother, however, was an amazing costume maker throughout my childhood (my personal favorite is the "Baubled, Bangled Christmas Tree" (from "Chicken Soup With Rice") costume that she made for my then five-year-old little sister), and luckily for the kids, she maintains an excellent collection of Halloween costumes to this day. So, a few days ago, we sent Luke and Jaz over to Nama's basement to figure out what they wanted to wear on Halloween. Their choices ended up being incredibly well-suited for their personalities. Jaz dressed up as a clown (my mom sewed him some last-minute clown pants, but everything else was found in the basement), and Lukas was Zorro (not that he really knows who "Zorro" is, but we decided that his "cowboy" costume looked more like a "Zorro" costume, and Luke went with that). Zeb wore his (store-bought) rooster costume from last year. He actually didn't get to wear it last year since he wasn't quite walking yet then (which is just so hard to believe given the hopping, skipping, running person that he is today). We went into town where all of the shops do trick-or-treating for kids from 3-6 p.m. We do this every year, and we love how it's still light out (so all costumes are visible), and the crowds make for some really fun energy.
Getting done with trick-or-treating before 6:00 means that there's plenty of time for a special dinner before bedtime. Luke and Jaz were hoping to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters at our house (and I like the balance of them getting to take, take, take and then give, give, give), but we only got one knock at the door here in our new neighborhood. Bummer! So there was lots of candy leftover for the boys to leave for the Halloween Fairy.

The Halloween Fairy is a game we play . . . the kids leave out their bags of loot and the Halloween Fairy comes while they're sleeping, takes the candy, and leaves behind a gift for each child. This is our solution to the fact that we really don't want our kids eating any of the junk that they bring home, and so far it's working out quite well for us all. This year the fairy left each of the kids a book, which sounds especially dreadful (trade your candy in for a . . . book!), but this was what the kids requested, and they were all quite pleased this morning.

Tonight we change the clocks back to standard time (daylight saving time having come to an end), and the dark season begins in earnest. Soon we will begin our celebration of the winter solstice, finding whatever ways we can to bring warmth and light to this dark, cold time of year.