our daily bread

it should be no surprise that C's first culinary accomplishment is making toast. he is the grandson of a Pioneer bread man, who daily delivered fresh bread to his children, which was usually prepared as toast. now this was no ordinary affair. firstly, the toast was considered raw until at least 1/3 was blackened, and the toast-maker could be found staring intently into the toaster's orange glowing holiness. Indeed there were two holy figures in the Lennon family -- the Virgin Mary and the toaster.
When i married into the Lennon family, their clan obsession with bread amused me. now i confess that i have become one of their proselytes. when children say they're hungry, i offer toast without a second thought. i stand before the toaster in patient reverence or listen for the expectant spring of toast popping, then hurriedly, in a state of complete focus, i smear thin slabs of butter on my piece of perfection--a black/brown crust fading into golden oblivion. no edge forgotten, no surface overlooked as my butter knife works confidently beneath the subtle sizzle of butter on hot toast.
needless to say, eating the toast is a matter of sacredness. if the bread can make it from toast to mouth in under 4 minutes (depending on toaster of course), the toast-maker has earned a medal of excellence and the silent approval of the Lennon's who have been buttering toast since they were toddlers -- about C's age, to be exact. So, Mr. Cbear, welcome to the rank of third generation proselyte of The Lennon Toast Affair. you're on your way to excellence.

wean

i weaned hazel on tuesday, february 23rd. it came like a mysterious wind that signals the arrival of change, so i was gifted the confidence to make this significant transition. i didn't know i would feel all the ways i've been feeling in the last four days since i stopped nursing. i had been waiting for that very wind to blow and relieve me from the obligation nursing had become to me. ultimately i continued nursing because i believe in the lasting benefits of such a strong mother bond, but at some point it felt like i was giving that nourishment grudgingly, and this is no way to give to anybody.
on the first day, with my breasts engorged like they hadn't been since after labor, i felt such a tremendous sense of gratitude for the earth, our mother, for giving to us so tirelessly, without question or condition. i crossed my arms over my chest and, like a ceremony marking the closing of a womb, i thanked my body for giving to our children for the last 4 1/2 years of uninterrupted pregnancy and nursing. but i wept in secret as my daughter became aware that our relationship was changing. she asked to nurse again and again, as if hoping to awaken from a sad dream. maybe i'm just interpreting her experience, or maybe some cellular part of me understands. so i quickly direct her to the sky and the birds and ask 'where did nursing go?' -- a limitless question with any number of answers. i remembered when i weaned C and the process of reinforcing our connectedness by quiet times of reading; or swooping him up in my arms and dancing with him, whispering that 'mama still holds you soooo close...' and so it goes again with miss louise, my little gumdrop girl.