Maggie's official birthday party is scheduled for next weekend, and you can bet your bum that there will be pictures of that coming up. Additionally, Ian and I are working on a Maggie-themed slide show, which should be up and running tonight(ish). Our celebrations yesterday were low key, but we did party down, Tillman-style, and so Maggie's
actual birthday went thusly:
On my birthday, my mum always calls me at the exact time of day that I was born, so that we can reminisce together over what a delight I have always been. I like the tradition, and want to continue it with my children. I, however, had the good manners to be born at 8:15 a.m., while my kids were both born at much less decent hours. (Max: 6:25 a.m.; Maggie: 12:24 a.m.) Nonetheless, I remained stubbornly awake with Maggie until 12:24 on her birthday morning, and reminisced about what a delight she's always been while Ian blearily and with much grumbling photographed the moment for posterity. Maggie, for her part, began her second year of life in much the way she began her first one: nursing herself to sleep on my chest and then refusing to be dislodged from her place of comfort.
To Max, the fact that it was Maggie's birthday meant two things: a hearty round of "Jolly Good Fellow", sung off-key but with admirable gusto, and cake. We made the horrible error of showing Max the cupcakes (one each for Max and Maggie -- Ian and I had sugar-free ice cream, because being a grown-up sucks)
before dinner, and then telling him that we would not be eating the cupcakes until
after dinner. We realized our error almost immediately, but it was too late to go back, and so we soldiered on, ate dinner, and made forced pleasant conversation while Max lay under the dinner table and wailed "We're done with dinner! We need cupcakes!" at two-second intervals. By the time we had finished making our point (whatever the hell our point was in the first place), Maggie had fallen asleep, so Max sang to her slumbering self and ate his cupcake in her honor.
Maggie did wake up in time to eat her birthday cake on her birthday. She was bemused by the cupcake at first, and examined it from all angles, unsure whether it was food, a toy, or some sort of baby IQ test.
Maggie smooshed cake into the tray, her hair, her belly button, and both nostrils, and then finally, some stray frosting found its way into her mouth and she realized that she loved it.
A lot.
Delighted with her new, cake-eating lifestyle, and in the throes of her first sugar-high, Maggie was humorous to behold. The humor wore off two hours later, when the sugar high was still carrying Maggie on its glucosey wings of frenzy and the rest of us were ready for bed, but how often do you turn one, for goodness' sake?
And that, my friends, is how Maggie ushered in her onehood.
On my birthday, my mum always calls me at the exact time of day that I was born, so that we can reminisce together over what a delight I have always been. I like the tradition, and want to continue it with my children. I, however, had the good manners to be born at 8:15 a.m., while my kids were both born at much less decent hours. (Max: 6:25 a.m.; Maggie: 12:24 a.m.) Nonetheless, I remained stubbornly awake with Maggie until 12:24 on her birthday morning, and reminisced about what a delight she's always been while Ian blearily and with much grumbling photographed the moment for posterity. Maggie, for her part, began her second year of life in much the way she began her first one: nursing herself to sleep on my chest and then refusing to be dislodged from her place of comfort.
To Max, the fact that it was Maggie's birthday meant two things: a hearty round of "Jolly Good Fellow", sung off-key but with admirable gusto, and cake. We made the horrible error of showing Max the cupcakes (one each for Max and Maggie -- Ian and I had sugar-free ice cream, because being a grown-up sucks) before dinner, and then telling him that we would not be eating the cupcakes until after dinner. We realized our error almost immediately, but it was too late to go back, and so we soldiered on, ate dinner, and made forced pleasant conversation while Max lay under the dinner table and wailed "We're done with dinner! We need cupcakes!" at two-second intervals. By the time we had finished making our point (whatever the hell our point was in the first place), Maggie had fallen asleep, so Max sang to her slumbering self and ate his cupcake in her honor.
Maggie did wake up in time to eat her birthday cake on her birthday. She was bemused by the cupcake at first, and examined it from all angles, unsure whether it was food, a toy, or some sort of baby IQ test.
Maggie smooshed cake into the tray, her hair, her belly button, and both nostrils, and then finally, some stray frosting found its way into her mouth and she realized that she loved it.
A lot.
Delighted with her new, cake-eating lifestyle, and in the throes of her first sugar-high, Maggie was humorous to behold. The humor wore off two hours later, when the sugar high was still carrying Maggie on its glucosey wings of frenzy and the rest of us were ready for bed, but how often do you turn one, for goodness' sake?
And that, my friends, is how Maggie ushered in her onehood.
1 comment:
Maggie is just the cutest baby girl.....look at that grin and those chompers. Poor Max also looked like he deserved that cupcake with his swollen red eyes. Learning all the rules of waiting for the goodie until after supper is not always the easiest rule to learn mama.
Post a Comment