In Which Maggie Is Blessed

We had a Blessing Ceremony for Maggie this weekend at the Unitarian Church. The building and grounds are so beautiful, and we had an amazing sunny day for the occasion.

Maggie's mama and grandma accidentally but completely coordinated outfits. If we ever need Team Tillman uniforms, Elaine and I are all set.

As lovely as the church was, and as gorgeous as the day was, Maggie's beauty commanded every eye.

My grandma Kay loaned us her christening gown for Maggie to use. It is from Grandma's christening, and it is almost one hundred years old. I really love the gown, which is long and ivory-colored and simply embroidered, and it was so special to be able to include a piece of our family's history in the ceremony.

And speaking of the ceremony ... it was, um, action-packed. We had Max's Blessing ceremony at the same church two years ago, and it was a very peaceful event. We had yet another opportunity on Saturday, however, to rediscover one of parenting's great truths: things are more complicated when you have more than one child. Max stood up with us during the ceremony, and he started out relatively calm.

In the middle of the ceremony, the minister puts a small amount of water on the baby's head. In this picture, you can see our minister moistening Maggie. Notice the following: I am holding Maggie, Ian is holding Max, and Max has suddenly become sharply interested in the proceedings. None of us know it yet, but Max is about to have a giant meltdown. Ready? 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

Oh, look! Now I am holding Max and looking shell-shocked, while Ian holds a squirmy Maggie and the minister tries to restore order. In between these two pictures, Max suddenly wailed, "I DON'T WANT WATER ON MAGGIE'S HEAD NO NO NO I DON'T LIKE IT WATER ON MAGGIE!" and fell apart completely. He went and sat with my mum for a minute, but kept crying for me, and so that's how we finished the ceremony.

I held Max, Ian held Maggie, who decided to pass the time by playing peek-a-boo with the excess fabric in her gown, and Maggie was blessed with the melodious sound of Max sobbing piteously for a background. We are still not sure what caused Max to object so very strenuously to Maggie's moistening. He doesn't like getting his hair washed, and so maybe he felt protective of Maggie, or maybe (more likely) he was worried that he was next. I also sort of accidentally scheduled the ceremony for the middle of his nap time, so that may have been a factor, too. The minister did a good job of allowing us time to regroup, and of staying calm throughout the hullabaloo.

After all that, we obviously needed to rejuvenate our strength, so we went to Granny and Gramps' house and ate. And ate. And ate. There was a lot of food, and all of it was really good, so we kept eating for awhile.

And then we partied. Grandma Kay told Maggie some secrets.

Grandpa Phil and Max prepared for their circus audition. Working title of their act: Phil and his Amazing Blue Worm Boy!

Unable to compete very well with that act, the rest of us entertained ourselves as best as we could.

As the day progressed, it became not just sunny, not just warm, but HOT. Gramps busted out the hose for the kids. I thought that Maggie might be freaked out by the coldness and the squirtiness, but she loved it.

And Max, of course, is old friends with the hose, and renewed his love affair with enthusiasm.

Ian has long insisted that Maggie is unusually musical. I am not sure if this is true or not, being so unmusical myself that I have no way to judge, but it makes Ian happy to think that at least one of his genes squeaked through into Maggie's decidedly Chelsa-ish form. She is certainly an appreciative audience, at least.

We had a lovely day together, and even Max's meltdown was sort of nice (in retrospect), because it really emphasized the point of the blessing. We are welcoming Maggie into her family and into the world, and Maggie's world includes and incorporates Max. Look at her jolly little face. We are so overwhelmingly happy to have her.

Happy Easter!

We had a Blessing Ceremony for Maggie yesterday, with a big, wild party, and pictures of that are coming, with possible video bonus. What with all the partying and blessing and child-wrangling, though, I can't quite face it yet. You will have to be content, therefore, with this slice of Easter adorableness. Happy Spring, Everyone!

Sleep Club For Babies

Hi, I'm Maggie. I'm here today to tell you about a novel new lifestyle makeover I've recently designed. I call it the "sleep during the day, then stay awake all night nursing" plan. My mama is bug-eyed from lack of sleep, so I know it's working out great for her, too.

My easy-to-follow lifestyle adjustment has three basic steps:
1) Sleep most of the day, awakening just long enough to refuse to nap during your sibling's naptimes. While your sibling is being put to bed, pop up from your crib at irregular intervals, crowing and cawing loudly. Resist all efforts to keep you awake and lively during daylight.
2) Awaken around eight or eight-thirty, conclude that you are feeling peckish. Play with but do not actually eat your solid food. Request nursing repeatedly.
3) Continue to request nursing frequently throughout the night. This step does require a certain amount of vigilance -- ideally, you want to squawk for more milk right at the exact second that your mama decides you're done and starts to drift off to sleep.

Ask me about the many benefits that this lifestyle offers; after all, I'm not just the president and founder of this exciting new plan -- I'm also its top client. Call today!

Skeletons In The Digital Camera Closet

I had BIG plans for today's blog post, people. I was going to tell you all about how Maggie has learned a new baby sign ("more"), with photos of her signing it as proof. I was going to tell you about how Max and Maggie seem to have gotten past their sibling angst, at least for now, and are playing together in new and exciting ways, with photos of them being cute together as proof. I was also going to discuss the awesome french toast cut out with cookie cutters breakfast I made for Max this morning, securing my place in the Mama Hall Of Fame and tricking Max into eating three eggs and two pieces of toast and a banana, with lip-smacking pictures of the whole breakfast as proof. However, we will not be discussing any of those things, because Ian has apparently stolen the camera and taken it to work with him. I was therefore reduced to hunting through our computer files for old pictures that I could blog about, and during my hunt, I discovered this disturbing sequence:






Three things have become really clear to me since viewing these pictures. First, I have got to get rid of that godforsaken Alien action figure. Clearly, its presence is unhealthy for all of us. Secondly, Ian must not, under any circumstances, be permitted to use the camera unsupervised ever again. Thirdly, and most importantly, I have clearly not been offering Ian a long and detailed enough to-do list, and the poor lamb has been reduced to filling his time any way he can. Don't fret, though; I can remedy that problem easily.

In Which Chelsa Is Irritated By A Number Of Things

Item 1 on my list: Maggie's teeth. Dear Tooth Nubs: Whatever it is that you are doing in there that is making my beloved daughter bite me and keep me up all night, it is important that you stop doing it immediately. Thank you.
Item 2: I found four grey hairs on my head the other day. Dear grey hairs: cease and desist reproducing right now. I am unamused.
Item 3: When I bemoaned the aforementioned grey hairs to Ian, he icily informed me that some people would feel really lucky if they were still growing hair of any color, and that perhaps I should take my luxuriously full-maned self elsewhere with my complaints. And that was the most sympathy I got out of him on that subject.
Item 4: My mother chirpily commented that she has only just now begun to go grey. Arguably even less helpful than Ian. Which is why I am talking to you, Blog.
Item 5: I ordered a dress online, and received the wrong item from the company. This wouldn't be the end of the world, except that the item I received was a pair of jeans with MULTI-COLORED RHINESTONES affixed to the back pockets. I am sad a) that such jeans exist in the world, b) that I am, however briefly, the owner of such a fashion aberration, and c) that when I alerted the company to their error, they offered me a five dollar coupon by way of apology. As if five dollars is enough to compensate for my lost innocence.
Item 6: Max has decided that his stuffed bear is a baby. This is adorable in theory. Rather than care for the bear baby himself, however, Max keeps me continually informed of it's needs (which are considerable), and then demands that I care for it. That hairy little bear baby poops and cries nonstop, and seems quite neurotic, to boot.

That's all I can think of right now, but I'm sure more things will aggravate me as the day progresses, so stay tuned.

My Heart

I am utterly crazy about this boy.

Possibly because he is utterly crazy.

In Which Chelsa Raises An Irate Fist To The Heavens And Curses Daylight Saving Time

I have composed the following letter, which I plan to deliver as soon as I figure out how to time travel:
Dear Mr. Willett,
Hi there. My name is Chelsa. Obviously we have never met, since you died 62 years before I was born. It is, therefore, shocking that you have managed to impact my life so negatively, and to instill so much bitterness and rancor for you in my heart. Right now (always supposing that I have used the time travel device correctly), you are getting ready to propose an idea which will eventually become Daylight Saving Time. Wikipedia tells me that you came up with this idea after observing with dismay how much of the glorious summer daylight was wasted by so many people. Kudos on your active and nature-loving lifestyle. You know what, though? Some people enjoy sleeping in. Also, and even more importantly, some people have small children, and those small children do not understand your elaborate dance of the clocks, and therefore end up going to bed really, really, really late at night. And then the daylight that you so want us to enjoy is instead spent in a crabby and sleep-deprived fog. So thanks for your busybodyish need to force us all to get out there and seize the daylight, but no thank you. Please reconsider putting out pamphlets or otherwise endorsing changing the clocks to match the seasons. History will thank you.
Sincerely,
Chelsa

Welcome Baby Sophia!

Mama to Max: Hey, Max! Come look at this! This is a picture of your new baby cousin!
Max: That's Joey?
Mama: No, that's Joey's new baby sister!
Max: That's Joey's baby?
Mama: Joey has a baby sister now, just like you!
Max: That's Joey's Maggie!

Imaginary Friends (Or Violent Adversaries)

Max has been exploring his inner thespian recently. His play is much more elaborate and creative than ever before, and he has begun playing and conversing with stuffed animals, action figures, and altogether made-up beings. Everyone, good or evil, seems to like drinking tea. Last night, Ian was commenting on Max's newly vivid imaginative play. He said, "It's funny, because so much of his play incorporates Star Wars or Superman or stuff that I've shown Max, and that he knows I like. You can really see how you imprint your kids' inner lives, and how so much of how they think and what they like comes from you." (Disclaimer, because I know Ian will complain: This is not a direct quote. I can't remember exactly what he said, but this is the gist.) We both reflected sentimentally on the wonder of parenthood for a moment, and then Max called, from the other room, "Dada! Lotta lotta Darth Vaders! Shoot them! For the kill!" The tender moment ended with Ian receiving a lecture on appropriate and non-violent games to share with your two-year old.

Culinariness

Maggie's relationship with solid food is slowly becoming friendlier. She still spits out a fair percentage of her rations, but she is at least opening her mouth for bites now, and seems happy to be eating. The increase in solid food consumption has led to many of the side effects that I predicted and feared -- our entire lives are splattered with baby food, Max has begun asking me to feed him his meals again, too, so as to share the attention, and the other end of Maggie's digestive tract has begun producing poo in a wide variety of colors, textures, and degrees of disgustingness. However, there is one really marvelous side effect that sort of balances it all out -- she now sleeps for 10 or 11 hours straight at night! Yee haw.

*Bonus Question: If you look up Maggie's nose in this picture, you can see tiny particles of what she ate for dinner. Was it
a)green beans?
b)sweet potatoes?
c)banana?
The winner gets no prize, but does get to experience the warm glow of correctness, plus the warm glow that accompanies studying food particles stuck up a baby's nose. Enjoy!

If Diana Ross And Mr. Rogers Collaborated On Song Lyrics ...

Dad to Max: Hey Max! Sing this: "Stop! In the name of Love! Before you break my heart!"
Max (singing passionately): Stop! In the neighborhood! Am ram mamamammmm heart!"

We love him to the moon and back. You can see why.

All Right, Simmer Down

I have received a great many complaints recently about the lack of updates on the blog. To which I say: bah. Most of you update your blogs so infrequently that it is quite sad, really, if you even have blogs at all, and I do have two young children and one of them is growing teeth like a piranha and the other one has developed some anti-sisterly feelings lately that require constant vigilance, and Lost has been really good this season, so I have been busy. Plus, our camera is currently having battery issues, and our last batch of pictures was of highly questionable quality, so I have been content-challenged, as well. Demand being what it is, however, I bow to public pressure and bring you the pictures from my friend Sarah's recent visit, which was much lovelier than the pictures make it seem.

Sarah and I are that kind of friends that has lasted so long and survived so much adolescent turbulence that we are really more like family. This bond, while keenly felt by both of us, does not manifest itself biologically, and I was amused by Sarah whenever she held Max or Maggie. Sarah, as you can see, is quite small, which Max and Maggie are not. Sarah almost looked like she was holding a whole different species of being. More importantly, however, you should note:

Maggie and Sarah's matching Uggs.

This was the best picture we got all weekend, and I think we can agree that none of us come off looking, you know, awesome. Ian looks like he's trying to simultaneously sell the photographer something and avoid touching anyone else on the couch, I look like I am trying to maintain my hold on a slippery baby while smiling cheerfully (which is not a deceptive look -- Maggie was slippery), Sarah looks like someone is goosing her, and Sarah's boyfriend Brian appears to have fallen asleep. Only Max comes out looking snazzy in this shot, and even he might be somewhat embarrassed by the fact that he is wearing rather snug-fitting footy pajamas that make him look like a wayward sprite in an improv dance interpretation of A Midsummer Night's Dream.

I saved the very worst for last, though, and I posted it so that you could see and understand why I have spent a week with bloggy writer's block. And this is post-photoshop. It's actually almost impressive. You know how, every now and then, you happen to capture the perfect, tenderest, most beautiful moment in a picture, with the best lighting and the most flattering angle and the most symmetrical framing? This is the exact opposite of that.

Feeding Time At The Zoo

Introducing Maggie to solid foods has been a slow process. We have tried five or six different kinds of baby food so far, and Maggie has outright rejected at least four of them. Even sweet potatoes, which were a favorite of Max's, and which I pureed by hand despite the fact that they ick me out, were categorically refused. Even the things that Maggie has liked (apples, pears, cherries) have mostly ended up on her chin rather than in her digestive tract. During dinner last night, Max watched me poke food at Maggie's stubbornly closed maw for awhile, and then asked if he could try feeding her. Hoping to capitalize on Maggie's adoration of Max, I agreed.

It may have been the cutest moment I have ever witnessed between Max and Maggie. Max kept tenderly offering Maggie the spoon, crooning, "Here you go, Maggie. Is it yummy? More, Maggie?" He even made the baby sign for 'more', which we have been working with Maggie on lately. (She has never made the sign for 'more', by the way. She has, however, mastered the sign for 'milk'.) Oh, man, it was cute.

Sadly, Maggie's love of all things Max did not yield him noticable success in the feeding department. Maggie giggled at Max, wriggled with glee, and she and Max together managed to smear pears and cherries on the majority of the western hemisphere, but I would be surprised if she actually consumed even a teaspoonful.

According to Max, however, the experiment was an unqualified triumph. When we praised him for his stellar big-brotherliness, he wholeheartedly joined in the cheering. Self-esteem is not something I worry about too much in regards to Max.

And, of course, we rounded out the evening with a giant scrub-down. Maggie had food in her ears, up her nose, in the folds of her neck, in her armpits, in the webbing of her fingers and toes, and in her hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows. Maybe, instead of getting her to chew and swallow, we should just coat her with food and let her absorb it through the skin. It's worth experimenting with.

Chefliness

Max's impression of adulthood seems to be that you drink a lot of coffee and tea, you get a lot of mail, and you do a lot of cooking. I am not sure what this says about Ian and I, other than the fact that we are quite tragically boring. And caffine-addicted. And apparently on some sort of list that incorrectly indicates that we love junk mail. But whatever. We do like to cook, and Ian in particular has developed a real flair for presentation. Max admires and imitates this, resulting in some inedible but meticulously organized dishes of food.

Here, Max demonstrates the dual-handed spoon technique. Sure, he is only offering you air, but he is offering it with a flourish, people.

Special Features

Your Maggie Action Figure now comes with an added bonus feature, kids.

That's right -- Maggie can play peek-a-boo. Just give her a piece of cloth and watch her go!

Get yours today, before we run out!

Toothsome

Maggie is teething STOP she wants to be held and nursed constantly STOP she has four teeth with more coming STOP I have begun to fear that she is growing a double row like a shark STOP She has not slept for two nights STOP

Send help STOP I repeat: send help STOP

The First Sentence Spoken In Our House This Morning Was:

"My jammies are wet, Mama! My hair, too!" And it was true. Max had peed beyond his diaper's ability to protect and serve, and he had the sweatiest, fuzziest, most outrageously stand-upiest case of bedhead in the history of hair. Luckily, Max followed this up with, "I love you, Mama! I love you so so much! It's a big day today!" How can you resent a wet bed change after that? Even if it takes place way too early in the morning?

Strolling Through The Park One Day

We haven't been to the park for a month or so, because it has been rainy and/or freezing. (Listen, everyone! Did you hear that? That was each and every Canadian relative I have scoffing in tandem at my definition of 'freezing'. Soft, California living thins the blood, I guess.) February has been curiously mild so far, however (thank you, Global Warming!), and so we took advantage of it and journeyed parkward with Granny and Gramps last weekend.

I am sort of amazed at how much both kids have developed since our last park adventure. It doesn't feel like that long since we were last there, and yet it was a completely different experience from the last time. Max can now climb everything climbable in the playground with ease. He has names and definitions for each rock, twig, blade of grass, and letter on the 'Welcome' sign. Granny and Gramps brought some activities (bubbles, small wooden airplane, chalk), and Max was so excited by everything that I thought he was going to start whistling like a tea kettle.

Whenever we threw the airplane, Max chased after it, exuberantly shouting, "I got it! I got it!" The fact that he never once caught it dented neither his enthusiasm nor his confidence.

We may have lost some of our Canadian heartiness, but we haven't forgotten our roots. Look out, Canada. Maggie's coming for ya. (You know, in the summer. When the weather is nice. She's not crazy.)

Magical Maggie

Maggie fascinates me. One of my fears, when I was pregnant with her, was that I would not find her as interesting as I did Max, because I had already experienced parenting and the novelty might have worn off. Luckily, Maggie is so uniquely and wonderfully herself that parenting her has never yet been boring. She is extraordinarily vocal now, and continues to keep us guessing with her word-like babbles. Is she talking? Is she just a strangely precise babbler? Is she speaking full sentences, but in fluent martian rather than english? Every day is a mystery, people. (Speaking of which, Max just poked his head in the door and informed me authoritatively, "Books live in the snow, Mama." Then he went back to playing in the sandbox. If this is some sort of military code informing me of iminent disaster, please let me know.)
Linguistics aside, I think that the best and most surprising thing about Maggie is her disposition. I know that I'm her mum, and maybe not the most objective, but she is just so very jolly and charming. She loves to listen to music (techno is still, sadly, a favorite) and to dance. She loves to laugh, and she is so very beautiful when she smiles and giggles, it takes my breath away. I have decided that she is my very favorite girl-baby in the entire universe.

Question Of The Day: Do Robots Wear Diapers?

Answer: Under certain circumstances, you bet they do.

I Am Outnumbered, But I Soldier On

This pretty much sums up Max and Maggie's interactions of late: Maggie, delighted by Max and trying desperately to dive through the screen door in order to get closer; Max, testing blockades for strength and shooting at Maggie with the closest thing to a gun he can find. I have found my preschool training coming in handy lately, as we have had many talks about 'gentle hands' and 'using words'. Max is going through this phase right now where he wants to build elaborate works of art out of legoes or blocks (last week he asked me to help him make a water fountain with a fish out of duplos. I pawed feebly at the duplos until he gave up on me in disgust.). This has unfortunately coincided with Maggie going through a phase where she likes to break apart or crawl on top of elaborate works of art and then eat the pieces. Somewhat understandably, Max has been irritated at her a lot. We are working on helping him channel his irritation in ways that do not include violence or pteradactyl-like shrieks of rage. I can see that it is going to be an ongoing project. Pray for me.