Happy Birthday, Grandpa Phil and Grandma Kay!!

I've met a lot of families that have Birthday Clumping Syndrome -- you know, that thing where three quarters of the family seems to have a birthday within a two week span? Our Birthday Clumping Syndrome takes place in September, so sit back and get ready for a bushel of birthday well wishing blog posts.

My lovely grandma celebrates her 93rd birthday today. And she's still cheeky!

Phil is more than likely celebrating his birthday by quietly not celebrating, but this is as good a day as any to reflect on how much we like Phil, right? Right.

Apparently, Even If I Don't Participate, She Does My Part And Carries On Without Me

Maggie (woefully, from her carseat) to Mama: Ohhhh! Mama! Maaammaaa!
Mama: What's wrong, Maggie?
Maggie (covering eyes with hand, as seen by Mama in rearview mirror): I'm so sad!
Mama: Why are you so sad?
Maggie: Because I'm crying! (sobs theatrically)
Mama: Why are you crying?
Maggie: Because I'm very sad!
Mama (sighing): Why are you very sad, Maggie?
Maggie: Because I'm crying!
Mama: Okay, we're in some sort of conversation loop now. I'm very sorry you're so sad, Maggie. Let me know if I can help you.
Maggie: I'm really sad ...
[Pause. Brief silence]
Maggie: I'm so, so sad!
[Pause. Maggie waits. No one says anything.]
Maggie: Why is Maggie sad?
Maggie: She's crying.
Maggie: Poor Maggie. Why she crying?
Maggie: 'Cause I'm very sad.

Honest, If Not Honorable

Max to Maggie: Stop it, Maggie. Maggie! MAGGIE!
[Sounds of scuffle]
Max to Dad: Maggie's hitting me!
Dad: Maggie, don't hit Max.
Maggie: NO! I'm not going to! Uh! Uh!
[Sounds of scuffle as Maggie is removed to an undisclosed location]
Max: Maggie hit me.
Mama: I saw that.
Max: But I didn't hit her.
Dad (returning from battle): I'm really proud of you, Dude.
Max: Because she was too far away.

Maybe His Humor Is Just Too Sophisticated For The Rest Of Us

Max to Mama: Knock knock!
Mama: Who's there?
Max: Boo!
Mama: Boo who?
Max: Boo the door!
Mama: ???
Max: Say, 'boo the door, who', Mama!
Mama: Boo the door who?
Max: Don't cry, the door doesn't want to bonk you!
[PAUSE]
Max: Now laugh, Mama.

Canada, And Other Stories

So, we went to Canada about a month and a half ago, and it was awesome but then we were tired, and then Maggie stopped napping on any kind of regular schedule, which is below the belt even for her, and then my mum keeps gleefully reminding me that I stopped napping when I was two, and I have been busy interviewing hitmen to take her out, and so I have not quite had time to tell the tale of our trip to BC, or our (surprisingly longer) trip home, or our (surprisingly even longer) readjustment to non-vacation living. And there has been this blog post draft hanging around the que forever, gathering dust and halfway uploaded, and so I am taking a stand and finishing it so we can move on. Because Max's birthday party is coming up, and he has big plans. Big plans, people.

Our journey to Canada was very smooth. We left in the morning, Maggie and Max had a backpack each full of stuff to do and eat and think about on the plane, and then they slept most of the car ride from Spokane to my dad's house. This gave us a false sense of security concerning the trip home (ominous music).

See how happy and carefree we are? Vacation, ahoy!

We took time, whilst in Canada, to stop and smell the flowers.

And, of course, we stocked up on hammock time.

We went to the lake, to baptize the children in their (well, in mine, but they are 50% me) native waters. Dad had grand visions of taking the kids on the fishing boat. He purchased life jackets especially for the occasion. Maggie's was pink. She liked it. She did not, however, like the idea of going on the boat. Max was even more reluctant.

So Dad sailed alone. He was reasonably philosophical about the death of his dream.

The water was refreshing. By which I mean, it was very cold, and you had to ease in, and then it felt good for awhile, and then it was cold again. If you look closely, you can see the tear tracks on my sister Aly's face as she cries over her frozen belly button.

Maggie does not like going in swimming pools, which is weird because she loves baths. I was curious about what her reaction to the lake would be. She initially charged right into the lake, with me hastily shedding shorts and buckling life jackets in her wake. By the time she realized that it was booty-freezin' cold, it was deep enough that she was afraid to retreat alone, and so she shimmied up my leg and squwaked, "I want to get out. It's too cold. I want that Grandpa. I don't like it swimming", until I took pity on her and escorted her back to dry land.

Grandpa helped her forget her troubles with a cookie. And then she liked that so much that he gave her a second one. My dad is a sucker.

Max was not a big fan of the cold water, either, but he really enjoyed digging in the sand near the lake. There are pictures of him enjoying digging in the sand near the lake, but Ian took them and it was bright and so it was hard for him to see what he was photographing (or that's his excuse, anyway), and so for some reason all of the Max digging pictures feature someone's bum prominently in frame. Like, really prominently.

I made my sisters pose with me in the lake, because it is picteresque. They must really love me, because it was also chilly.

Ian "forgot" his bathing suit, or I would have made him pose in the lake with me, too.

One of the great truths of life, learned by Max and Maggie during our trip, is that Aunties are awesome. They think you're cute, and they don't have to wake up at 2 a.m. with you, so their love for you is not tinged with bitterness like that of your parents.

And, the more aunties there are, the more likely you are to find someone who is willing to play with you. We were one auntie down, this trip -- my sister Jill was in Vancouver -- but luckily there are still quite a few hanging around.

This is the face you can expect to have pointed at you if you suggest that Maggie get off the swing before she is ready. It's scary, huh?

Max's giant hobbit prints at the water fountain park.

Max (far left side of picture) is practicing what he calls "squid-style kung fu" on an especially aggressive fountain spray.

Maggie, on the other hand, prefers to wade gently and admire the fountains from afar.

Our camera sort of ate its own battery relatively early on in our trip, so I did not get very many pictures of the many Fry relatives and their enfolding of Max and Maggie into the clan. I am therefore posting this shot of my grandma with Maggie, because it is one of the few that I have, even though it looks like my grandma is walking Maggie on a leash (she isn't).

In fact, Maggie roped her GG and Erhart into blowing giant bubbles on our last morning in Canada. Mercifully, she seems to have outgrown that thing where she called bubbles "bastards".

Look at her warlike stance, one pink bathing-suit-clad hip thrust out, fraggle hair blowing in the Canadian breeze. I adore her.

On our last evening in Canada, we of course visited the Colander, where we ate salad, spaghetti, meatballs, chicken, potatoes, now my tummy hurts just thinking about it, and ice cream. Maggie broke not one but two glasses while we were there, before we even started on the salad. The first one was accidental. The second one was because she liked the smash of the first one. My extremely kindly family took turns strolling around the restaurant with her for the rest of the meal, so that Ian and I could eat.

Blurry, but cute.

I had a giant head of steam about the whole return trip when I began this blog post, but that was like a month ago, and I am mostly over it. Our plane was delayed in Spokane, which meant that we would have missed our connection flight, which meant that we needed to spend an extra night in Spokane. This by itself would have been incovienient but bearable. The unfortunate part was that we got stuck with a not very helpful clerk, who told us that there were no available hotel rooms anywhere in Spokane (not really true, as it turned out), and who advised us to fly to Seattle and 'try to get a hotel room when we got there'. This struck me as undesirable. Ian and I, travelling by ourselves, could probably spend a night sleeping on our suitcases in the airport and live to make it into an amusing anecdote, but not with two small offspring in tow. My dad, who was already about halfway back to Canada at that point, turned around and came back to Spokane, where he helped us find a hotel room and stayed with us. My dad is an unsung hero. We made it home the next night, and we were extremely disgruntled, but then the airline sent us vouchers for our next flight, and gave us free air miles, and compensated us for our hotel room. So we're friends again.

Chelsa Birthday/Aniversary Video

Untitled from Ian Tillman on Vimeo.

RIP Edgar Cat

Edgar, our black cat, passed away today. He was fourteen, and we will miss him a great deal. Via con dios, Edgar. We love you.

Blame Canada

I do very humbly beg your forgiveness for my extended absense. We were in BC last week, and having too much fun to go near the computer. And then the trip home ended up being longer and more dramatic than anticipated (much more on that later), and so recovery/unpacking/reintroduction to normal life has been slow. I will be back, someday very soon, to discuss our trip, our lives as they currently exist, the kids' college careers, etc. As we heard at the airport more than once on our trip home, we appreciate your patience, we are committed to your satisfaction, and we will be with you as soon as possible.

Hustler Spirit

Maggie to Daddy, at 6:32 a.m.: Hi, Dad! Daddy? Hi, Daddy! Um, Daddy? Daddy! Hey, Daddy! Um, Dad? Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Dada!
Daddy (opening one eye irritably): Hello, Maggie.
Maggie: Oh, HI! Um, Daddy?
Daddy: Mmpph.
Maggie: DAD!
Daddy: What is it, Maggie?
Maggie: I wuv you.
Daddy (much less irritably): I love you, too, Maggie.
[Pause while Maggie throws an affectionate arm around Daddy]
Maggie: Um, Dad?
Daddy: Yes, Maggie?
Maggie: Can I have a popsicle? A red popsicle!

Happy Birthday Auntie Aly!

I was eleven the year that Aly was born, and her tiny baby self delighted me a great deal. She was the first newborn I ever remember seeing, and I loved her immediately. She is slightly less tiny now, and certainly not a baby, but she still delights me a great deal, and I still love her. Happy Birthday, Sister. California loves you!

Reason # 625,432,978 Why Maggie Is Charming

When Maggie is tired, and she wants to be put to bed, she never says that she wants to go to bed, or that she wants to go night nights, or whatever. She always, always says that she wants to "play night nights". This delights me, that she thinks of going to sleep as yet another game. And then, if you don't take the hint fast enough, she adds, "in bed!" and points. And if you still don't hustle enough to suit her, she will punch you in the knees until you take her to bed. Living with Maggie is a lot like living with a somewhat bossy, extremely violent fraggle. I love her all the way to the stars and back.

Little Sister

Max to Mama: Who is that picture of?
Mama: That's Daddy, and me, and you when you were a baby.
Max: What are we doing?
Mama: We're on vacation at the beach.
Max: Where's Maggie? Why did we not bring Maggie to the beach?
Mama: That was before Maggie was born.
Max: But where was she?
Mama: We didn't have Maggie yet. It was just you and me and Dada.
Max: WHY?
Mama: Are you getting upset?
Max (lips quivering, eyes filling up with tears): Yeah, I am getting upset, because I'm sad.
Mama: Why are you sad?
Max: Because I miss Maggie! I want her to come with us!
Mama: Well, that's why we had a Maggie. So that we could bring her places with us.
Max: Last years ago?
Mama: Um. Yeah.
Max: That's why we need Maggie to come with us, thatwise I will be sad. Because I love her.

My Two Dads

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day

When Max was about six months old, he and I walked downtown and popped into Ian's store for a little visit. Ian was with a customer, so Max and I found a corner to occupy ourselves in while we waited. As the customer was getting ready to leave, Ian introduced Max and I to her, we all exchanged pleasantries, and then the customer, on her way out the door, asked Ian when he would be at work in the next few days, in case she had a question or whatever. He told her his hours, and she raised her eyebrows and turned to me.
"Wow!" she said. "You never see him! You must feel like a single parent!"
"No," I said, genuinely baffled. "If I were a single parent, I would be working all those hours, and somehow trying to do everything I do now."
Ian does work long hours. He works weekends and holidays. He does this for us, so that the kids can be home when they need to be home and so that I can be home with them. In and of itself, this is remarkable, and the fact that Ian does not treat it as if it is remarkable only makes it more so. But the truth of the matter is, I was surprised by that customer's comment, because in addition to working long hours, Ian uses the time he does have at home with us to be completely present and available and interactive with his children, to a degree that surpasses remarkable and ventures into the realm of wonderous. We are lucky.

Without Further Ado, The Magic Number Proudly Presents ...

Maggie's impersonation of The Reverend Al Sharpton.

For The Record, I Am Crouched Down -- Max Is Not Taller Than I Am Yet

Although he has been eating like a vacuum lately, and sleeping like a log, and falling apart at the drop of a hat like a -- a -- a thing that falls apart at the drop of a hat, and these signs almost always point to impending growth spurts. I am hoping that I continue to be the taller of the two of us through his fifth birthday. To hope for longer than that would be optimistic to the point of ridiculousness, and I try to be realistic.

Performance Piece

I call this composition:
Fearless Mountain Explorer
In Pink Tutu
(with stubby ponytail).

School Girl

Now that Maggie is two, she is eligible to attend preschool with Max and I, and she had her first official school day on Tuesday. Although she is younger than Max was when he started, she has been chomping at the bit for awhile, and her first day went very smoothly. As could perhaps be predicted by anyone who knows me, I was exponentially more anxious on her behalf than she was. She just looked so very small to me, trotting around amidst all the giant four- and five-year olds. Maggie, of course, does not consider herself too small for any task or activity, up to and including wild bull taming and Mt. Everest climbing. As could perhaps be predicted by anyone who knows Maggie, within half an hour of being at school she had roped a team of five year olds into taking turns pushing her on the swing.
I am really glad that Maggie is able to come with us now. It eases up our schedule considerably -- Maggie was staying home with Ian on his days off while Max and I went to school, which meant that Ian and I were working seven days a week between the two of us. It also allows me to keep Maggie close, which is nice because I missed her desperately. I am so, so grateful that I am able to teach and bring the kids with me, so I can be there with Max and Maggie while still giving them a bit of socialization. I would be a wreak of embarrassingly epic proportions otherwise.

Creepy Remarks That Max Has Made In An Offhand Tone Recently:

While Brushing His Teeth:
Max: My toothbrush is poisoned, Mama! So I can't brush my teeth. Sorry.
Mama: There is no poison on your toothbrush. Just toothpaste.
Max: That's where they put the poison. They did your toothbrush, too.

While Attempting to Avoid Falling Asleep At Nap Time:
Max: Hey, Mama?
Mama: What?
Max: You know that feeling?
Mama: What feeling?
Max: You know, that feeling like someone is watching you?

At The Doctor's Office:
Max to Doctor: Doctor, my next mommy broke my next helicopter and I sat on it.
Doctor: Um ... I may need your mom to interpret that one.
Mama: I wish I could.
Doctor: So as far as you know, he hasn't had any accidents recently with broken toys?
Mama: No. Sometimes he --
Max: It didn't happen this day. My next mommy lives in my next house. When I am done here I am going to live there.

Proof Positive That These Poor Children Are Being Raised By Incurably Snobby Coffee Fiends

Maggie to Max in the bath: I'm cooking, Max!
Max: Oh.
Maggie: I'm making cappuccino, Max! It's good! Open your mouth! Drink it! It's good!
Max (glancing critically at Maggie's toy tea cup): You need to put more foam on it, Maggie.