Closing thoughts and closing the blog

Last Munich mommy-daughter photo

One day old...
Edie on the go!

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Keeping this blog has kept my family as well as a few loyal friends up-to-date on our lives over here. But it's also been a way for me to slow down, take stock of what's going on, and process the incredible changes we've undergone. Most of all, though, it's been a way for me to create a baby book so far superior to any baby book that any mortal mom has ever made that any parent reading this should be flush with quiet shame.

I started writing this post when Edie and I were 8 days out from The Big Move to Nashville. I was excited, nervous, and of course a little sad. This move was more inevitable than any before it because Munich was never going to be home. It was, instead, like living in an unbelievably lovely other planet; a 20 month adventure that we'll look back on fondly. But it was time to step off this ride, and for all the people and places we'll miss dearly, we're ready to get our feet back on solid ground.

Coming to Munich wasn't particularly well thought out, and at times seemed foolhardy. We found it difficult to get by financially, missed being part of the lives of our loved ones, and sometimes lamented that our daughter's first years were spent removed from those same people. But I've never really doubted the decision to move here. I can actually hardly count the ways in which the challenges and benefits of living here seemed tailored for us. (Please bear in mind that I am currently watching LOST and am therefore overly-susceptible to finding meaning in the seemingly random.) For me, the life I found in Munich was one stripped of anything that I used to define myself with. No profession, no circle of friends, often not language. I didn’t even look or physically feel like I was used to, with my giant pregnant belly and distinct third trimester water retention. Then, only weeks later, I was a mother. Something I wanted so dearly and at the same time felt wholly unprepared for and, initially, quite bad at. It was an incredible gift to be able to stay home with my daughter, mostly for the time we spent together but also for this spectacular moment for personal growth. Life was totally foreign in so many ways, and I had nowhere to go and nothing to do but dig in. Though my mind rallied against it (“I can’t do this!” “I am a terrible mom.” “My daughter doesn’t like me.” “It’s too hard to do this so far from home.”), I had a baby who needed me with her entire being and a husband who – as is his way – was always there. Not necessarily with sage wisdom, and often being accused of saying the wrong thing all together, but there, no matter what. I don’t imagine that it is this hard for all women to turn into mothers. But I have no doubt that it is what I needed: to be pinned against a wall, baby in my arms, until I stopped fighting and started being.

And so now we are gone, and the reminiscing is happening against my will. Though I spent the first 6 months largely indoors, after I got more mobile, I made some dear friends. Will and I explored Munich in our preferred fashion: quietly, slowly, and close to home. I passed many hours in Munich’s countless wonderful playgrounds once Edie entered toddlerhood and was privy to sights that can be sincerely called majestic on a daily basis. No cars and car seats seats, just snuggles and giggles on train rides. Never worried about breastfeeding in public. No leashes on the dogs. No Bratz dolls or Disney-mania. Our time there was a gift.

I maintain that I was ready to leave. But I still have a little grieving to do. In part for the simple and charming way of life we had in Munich. And in part for those we left. And another part that is just exhausted with starting again, with six lane roads and strip malls, and losing the flexible schedule Will’s job in Germany afforded him that gave me and little E so much wonderful time with our best guy. I got most of this out in an unexpected weeping spell on our way to meet with the realtor. And as sappy as it sounds, just looking at Edie is a tangible reminder that everything that means anything is right here. It’s going to take some time before I beat down a trail for myself in Nashville. But it will come.

So, I think this blog has served its purpose for me. It will keep this time fresher in my mind and will give stories to tell Edie when she gets a little older. I’ll keep up with regular Edie-centric posts on www.babygrissom.blogspot.com. And perhaps I’ll cook up a new blog about Nashville, toddlers, crafts, homemaking, etc. But for now, this Southern heat and life in a cluttered furnished rental home dun sucked the creativity right out of me. Goodbye, dear blog!

Goodbye, Munich!

Edie and I depart in about 13 hours, but I'll be up long before then. Last time I flew internationally with her, she ended up sounding like Janis Joplin for days afterward on account of all of the shrieking. Little dear just did not want to sleep in a strange place. I figure it's got to be downhill from there. I may not be able to go to the bathroom for the entire flight, but, then again, I am bringing a lot of extra diapers. We are armed with a soft-soft, pictured here, which is E's security blanket. [We have 3 of them now. And she loves them so dearly that if she catches one out on the clothes line she will stand at the window, lean her head against the glass, and occasionally shed a tear moaning "soft-soooooffffft."] The dogs and the husband stay behind to deal with movers. And we bid this city and country a hectic farewell. Have not had a chance to process everything, but that's the great thing about a kid. No time to view your life as some all important narrative, because you've got to tickle that baby, sing Itsy Bitsy Spider, and then give 10 or so butterfly kisses. I'm sure I'll make time to get into my own head soon, anyhow. Until then, love to all, whether here in Deutschland, the US, or anywhere you find yourself. Mettha, hugs and kisses from Rach & E.

When did she turn into a KID?

The past 20 months in Germany have flown, especially the latter 18 of those, since Miss Edie graced the world. Lately I've been turning around and wondering, when did I get a kid? I've never been shy to admit that I was not too handy when she was tiny. I found it confusing and stressful. Wonderful at times, sure, but Edie could've done a good bit better than having me as a mom during those first months. Though it took awhile, we're hitting our stride, I think.

Now I've got this real live kid around, who takes a grocery bag, loads it up with her toys, and drags it behind her, leaving the room saying "buh-bye mamma." One who in the middle of breakfast, grabs my hand and puts it on her head so I will give her a mid-morning scalp massage. A kid that tattles on her dad with great relish when I asked her how she hurt her knee ("dada! booboo! outside!"). And who laughs hard at my jokes, but laughs hysterically at her own. I fall into bed most nights feeling like I've run a marathon (and I have actually run one of these), but always with a smile.

Here she is making me laugh or gasp in the past few days. Sometimes both at once.

At a playground with some friends, I looked up to see a kid sitting on the slide, waiting to go down. It took me about 10 seconds to realize that was my daughter, who had gone up the stairs, across the shaky bridge, and over the platform to the slide all on her own. Watching her do it again, cautious but determined to make it to the slide, no matter how scary that bridge was, about did me in.


Here she is, so engrossed in her Peek a Boo Farm app that she barely had time to look up when her dad joined us on the train. She gave him a shooting side eye and went straight back to tapping that barn door. "iPhone" wasn't among her first words for nothing.

This is what happens when you give a toddler some crayons and a paper. And then make the rash decision to blink. Body art is "in", right?

Let the Preparations Begin: Toddler Travel Bag o' Wonder

There is a website here that is alternately a vast resource and a vast abyss. It is like a glorified craigslist but only for English speaking expats in Germany. This narrow subset of humanity is populated with people who know the trials and tribulations of being a foreigner in the Fatherland who are happy to help those who come after them. It is also full of many rather eccentric folk. Eccentric, opinionated, computer-screen loving folk. Through its forums, I have bought and sold goods, found dog-sitters and German lessons, and found answers to just about any "where can I find..." or "how do you ..." questions I have been struck with while in Munich.

Lately, I decided to ask a question out loud and get some feedback on a personal query. Namely, has anyone ever had trouble traveling alone and internationally with a child who did not share his or her last name. You see, Edie and I don't have the same last name. And while the merits of this could be discussed, what shouldn't get lost is the real take home of that sentence: I AM TRAVELING ALONE WITH EDIE. INTERNATIONALLY. AND DID I MENTION ALONE?

While I was looking for some tips from those who'd done it, I got along the way much unsolicited advice. For example, someone mentioned to me that children require passports. Since I am neither a chimpanzee or someone born and raised within the bounds of an old-timey living history reenactment society, I was aware of this. I was also encouraged to bring food my daughter liked to eat. And toys. Well, there goes the 5 gallon bucket of yellow mustard and the bag of tacks!

I have actually done a lot of thinking on the subject of how one survives a trip, comprised of two flights, two airports, 4 suitcases, 2 carry-ons, a car seat and a stroller, all with a child who can run and scream but, sadly, cannot reason nor exercise impulse control. She also cannot sleep away from home. Edie steels herself against rest when she is outside of our house. The only time since she was a few weeks old that I've ever been surprised to see her asleep was when she had a fever of 102 and she was getting walked in her stroller. She woke up after 30 seconds that time. So, planning for around a half hour of uncontrollable coma sleep, an hour of eating, and 10 minutes of TV watching, what's a mom to do with the other twelve + hours?

Well, the real answer is: who knows? It shall pass. And I shall be tired. But, while I wait to actually get wise enough to believe that, how about I excessively over plan for the trip? Done and done.

I spent the last week with my now sold sewing machine making light-weight, and (oh how I hope) engaging toys. After picking the brains of worldly mommas as well as the interwebs, I got lots of ideas. Here are some of Edie's plane time surprises:

Pockets. Made this one up. It's just some pockets with matching little stuffed shapes. Edie loves tucking little treasures into bags, sofas, and some mystery portal that I have not yet found but certainly holds a lid to one of my tins and her right galosh. So I am hoping we can make some different games with this one.

A crayon roll. Nothing new here, but it's a cute way to carry crayons. And it makes the getting out and putting away a little more interesting.

Felt scene. I sewed down a pond and road. The rest is freewheeling.

Mr. Potato-head inspired Felt Game - Just a flesh-y colored circle. The other bits are just cut out and they can be moved to make a happy looking orange haired guy, or a pitiful cyclops who was never meant to be. Alternate features stuffed in the pouch.

The payload, all tucked away.

These toys are very light, which is vital during a trip that involves so very much lugging, cramming, packing and unpacking. As a friend pointed out to me, at a minimum, this borderline bananas amount of effort may ensure that Edie sleeps through most of the flight. Oh, were it only so....

Dutchess of Poodles

The dogs are starting to adjust to their fearless leader. And though we maintain a zero tolerance policy for dogs fighting back, I really do feel for them. From the moment she wakes up, Edie is all about the dogs. I have caught her patty-caking Sugar's face, and plonking plastic nesting cups, one after the other, atop Billy's head, laughing hysterically while saying "hat!!".

But the best aspect of Edie's reign of canine terror has to be her marching with determination at the dogs, right arm raised just above shoulder height and index finger jutting out of her clenched fist, yelling "BOW!" She didn't come up with this on her own. Billy actually can bow. Awhile back, pre-baby and pre-JD + PhD - shall we say The Era of Timeonourhands - I taught Billy to bow by giving him a treat and saying the command whenever he slid his front paws out and shined that butt to the sky in order to stretch out from a long afternoon of napping. Food motivated fatty that he is, he learned it quickly. An exhaustive list of his other tricks includes high fives, rolling over, and sitting. He will also run through a tunnel if you ask, and he performs a vigorous erotic dance with his pillow, but I can't take credit for these tricks. They are all Billy. Back to the point, though, Edie has really taken to this "bow" command.

So much does the little lady enjoy telling her dogs to bow (optimistic toddler does try to get Sugar to bow too, even though the tiny dog's brain may actually be a dried apricot thus rendering her incapable of such complex tasks) that she also commands others to bow. Strangers on the subway. Friends over for a visit. And I've oft caught her warming up her vocal cords by herself in her bed upon waking up from a nap yelling out "Bow!!" "High Five!" "BoooooW!!!" to an imaginary, and obedient, friend.

We are finding Germans difficult to train in this regard, but hopefully the gentile Southerners of Nashville will be a bit more agreeable to Her Highness's wishes. Until then, Edie will have to focus on getting her poodle minions in line.

Getting down to business

Edie loves to help her Dad empty the dishwasher. If he tries to open it without her by his side, you hear "nein nein nein!" and a lot of pitter-pattering as she rushes to get there in time for the unloading. The other day he began the process just as she was in the middle of trying on some hats. So she had to cut her losses and therefore arrived with a bunny-head (she fully put this on herself - strap and all. no babies were intentionally given rabbit ears for the sake of a photo.)

About in the World

Well, Ms. Edie is finally walking like a champ. She waited until she was good and ready; no mad dashes, not too many stumbles. Our little one was 15 or 16 months when she really got going, so I never had the "I can't believe she's walking!" experience. It was more like "Hallelujah, I can go back out in public without the baby dragging her palms through filth." For a couple months there, we existed in some pretty rough limbo where her energy level demanded freedom but social norms demanded that I keep my child from worming about at ankle level in cafes and grocery stores. Some days Edie won, others society. I am pretty certain that I never won, and I'm sure that the knees of her pants didn't either.

But we're up and running now! One of the first time I let her loose in a non-playground / park environment was on a shopping trip to pick up some work shirts for her dad. I thought she'd run amok but not so much. Edie was overwhelmed to say the least and mostly clung to me, but her apprehension didn't last long. Since then, she's torn through aisles, dribbling apple pulp on tiled floors (and *maybe* a tiny bit of merchandise), ransacking racks of bibs and toys, and goosing the occasional stranger - (it's unfortunate that baby-tickling height is butt-level on most adults). Drunken monkey that any toddler is and Edie being no exception, she doesn't do straight lines so well and has never, ever looked to see where her feet are about to land.

I've had less time to blog or breathe of late, but we're all happily bipedal in Munich! Except the dogs, that is. They are still lazing about on all fours.

And the academy award will one day go to...

It's not clear where she gets her air of drama. Probably her Dad. He's well known in the biomedical engineering world for his histrionics. In any case, here's a video of world's silliest toddler giving her best faces during a dinner. (Note: baby spoon privileges were temporarily suspended due to extreme bananas-ness leading to dogs wearing much of her dinner.)

Homeschool for Mom

Motherhood is a relentless teacher. One of it's biggest lessons is that you have no right to the world as you'd like it to be. Not dissimilar to the "life's not fair" mantra we learned as kids, but I don't like saying that so much because it seems to set up fair and unfair as good versus bad. But, really, it is just about the absence of fairness as a universal rule. It's not bad that life's not fair. It just is. Edie has been showing me from day one that my comfy little bubble is not real. Nevertheless, I still react strongly to life's nuisances - loud neighbors, people not minding my Midwestern personal space - as if they were personal affronts and not just the benign states that they are. My shrieking pee-pants Zen master still has a lot of work to do. Here's our syllabus for this term.

Lesson One: Diapers Are An Illusion. In the Western world, diapers are synonymous with babies. Not so everywhere, and actually we have done some "potty-whispering" with Edie since she was about 4 months old. Diapers, however, have been a constant presence as well. We've turned a corner lately wherein Edie (A) does not want to use the potty. Ok, that helps me rid myself of any involuntary smugness I may have become tainted with from having a baby who does her biz in the toilet at such a young age. Except that (B), she now hates diapers. Hates. Yells about it. Attempts frightening changing table dives to avoid them. And when she gets a chance, she up and takes them off. Now I respect this opinion. I mean, consider what diapers are. Gross and not that comfy. But am I ready to give up the sanctity of not living in a biohazardous zone? E's Answer: Take a deep breath, because it will all change soon enough and furthermore it's not up to me anyways. Now, get to cleaning up the poopy diaper I just removed and hurled on your yoga mat, mother. [Note: this happened.]

Lesson Two: You Are Not What You Eat. If you were what you ate, my daughter would be a potato. With tofu appendages. And lentil soup for brains. Besides the too hot, too salty, or excessively sugary, Edie has been given all manner of food since she started solids. And she was blessed(/cursed) with teeth from an early age, so she's a bit of a chewing prodigy. Yet these days, with 14 chompers present and accounted for and 2 more on the horizon, she has become very picky. Particularly about vegetables. Broccoli now must not only be avoided in food, but it must be plucked out, floret by floret, and then taken away by me as she makes urgent eye contact, and exclaims "uh!?!? eh?!?" That's toddler for "fix this now." I have learned from this new mealtime ritual of making me remove food from her sight line - food that I lovingly planned, cooked, and served - that pleading, reasoning, and burying my head in my hands do not help. The last one feels sort of good though; like a power nap. This will pass, either because she starts eating everything or because she'll get too old for it to be my problem (this is what I did to my own mom, after all). Until then, I'll try to accept it - but in the meantime I will also continue to make green smoothies for her to drink.

Lesson Three: When Life Gives You a Toddler, It also Opens the Washing Machine. My house is now mostly a series of traps to entertain a toddler so that I can get two hours of productive time in while she is awake. That's two hours total over the 10+ hours she is out and about. While two hours is my goal, I try hard not to knock myself when I don't get there, which is fairly often. Baby traps involve creating a world of activities that she thinks she came up with on her own. So leaving the front-loading washing machine ajar so that Edie loads it up with bags of pasta and containers of dried beans. Putting all of her shoes, past future & present, in a box in the hall so she can try on each and every one. Setting out my little basket of nail polish, all schellacked shut from many months of neglect. Knowing how to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider while sauteeing. And that's just some of my bag of tricks. Moreover, I try to remember to drop my cleaning/cooking/web surfing whenever I can and just get down on the floor to play with her.

Happy Mother's Day.... to me...

My second ever Mother's Day as a mother has passed. It included a sparkling kitchen, baked goods, cleaning and feng shui-ing the baby's room, and a picnic dinner at the beer garden. But there was a catch. I had to do all of that myself. You see, Will is in Montreal for an "MRI conference," which is, apparently, what they call secret second families these days. Will "Is that your real name?" Grissom did, however, send me a magnificent bouquet.

Edie and I spent the afternoon with our friends Lara and Linnea, since their husband/dad left this morning for a work trip as well. And if you are thinking this all sounds fishy, then you are paying good attention. But no need to focus on whatever bigamist/money-laundering/cat burglaring schemes the menfolk are up to. It is, after all, Mother's Day. I made the child wear a semi-matching outfit (matching me, that is, not itself). So we both donned Detroit shirts and floral-patterned bottoms and trucked to the local trails to catch some rays, feed some ducks, and yell "woof! woof!" at every dog we saw.

Highlights of the day also include being able to do a full hour of yoga, as after having had the energy flow freed up in her room, Edie took a 2.5 hour nap. This gave me so much time that I even painted my toe nails. Of course, I promptly stubbed 8 of my 10 toes within minutes of finishing this. Still a win, especially if you squint when looking at my feet.

So Happy Mother's Day to me. And Herr Doktor Husband, (who/)whereever you are, we missed you!
Edie giving a kiss to her best buddy, Linnea. These two adore each other.
Standing! And matching mom!

The advantage of having dogs with baby

As I've said, there aren't a lot of advantages to dog + baby, especially when you are minus yard. The ticks, the grooming, the occasional vomit, but mostly the additional responsibility to animate creatures when your human creature already keeps you on a very demanding schedule can become the straws that break your back. I'm sure it's my change in perspective, but Billy and Sugar seem even more onerous lately. First, there is a man who lives in a tent in an adjacent park. Well, he lives there sometimes. That's why we call him the Drifter. Billy runs up and inspects the tent regularly, much to my horror, but I suppose the day he gets Drifter-punched, he'll learn. Sugar recently happened upon the Drifter's toilet. Hint: no indoor plumbing ... or doors. I am not going to go into any further details but know that she didn't only take notes. Then Billy, besides irking tent-dwellers, has long been known to get amorous with a pillow now and again. Five years into his life, however, he's gotten ... skilled at this particular forbidden love. I did not realize what a prude I was until Rondoodle Jeremy (as we now call him) put on his last performance.

I love dogs. I even love my dogs. But they are taking a lot and not giving much. You see, we'd had dreams of dogs that were baby-tolerant. But they run away at every turn, hardly submitting to a pet. It's frustrating but there's not much to be done. Obviously running away is allowed, but is it so much to ask that they put up with a little baby abuse in exchange for cleaning up their biohazard selves, paying muchos euros to keep their furs trimmed, and even access to the occasional batter bowl? To that end, here is Billy, earning his keep for once, getting jousted by a happy baby and her Swiffer stick.

Mini Hofbrauhaus

[Edie was skeptical about this trip at first ("dogs at dinner? why can't we just be civilized for once?") but we won her over.]

Our go-to-many-many-beer-gardens enthusiasm has not yet waned in the week since we decided on this goal. And that is something. This time, we went to the Mini Hofbrauhaus, which is a small beer garden in the English Gartens. It is known for being dog-friendly, so we brought along Billy and Sugar for a change. It is hard to imagine what constitutes being dog-friendly here in Germany, since dogs are allowed in most everywhere except grocery stores. They are on the trains, in restaurants and cafes, taking themselves for walks, and generally being treated not at all like creatures who eat poop and then try to give you a kiss. Which they all are. Even when they wear Loius Vuitton collars, like the beagle at the park who out-classed my mangy mutts.

What made this beer garden dog-friendly then, when there are dogs at every beer garden? Off leash mayhem and extra-tolerant humans. Billy dealt well with his freedom, bounding off to meet and greet and then rushing back to pick up Edie's refuse. Sugar, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. The whole experience seemed to short circuit her tiny and ineffectual brain, causing her to forget who her people are and instead snuggle in between two people she'd never met and on several occasions to walk quickly in an inexplicable direction away from our group. So she ended up tied to a stroller.

Beers, fizzy apple juice, and guacamole were consumed in large quantities. Edie forewent tortilla chips entirely, using them only as guac transport devices. Toward the end she regaled us with her new skill of standing. And, not one to rely on others for congratulations, gave herself some great big cheers for it. Hooray for standing! Hooray for beer gardens! Meh for bringing the dogs out to dinner.

The Aumeister Challenge

Dad trying to get baby to look at the camera

I know I'm not the most photogenic person out there, but Will really outdoes himself with terrible pictures of me....

Homemade smokey miso tofu with avocado sammies. Mmmmmmmm.

Well, it's T-3.5 months for our time left in Munich. So this is when the rose colored glasses come out and everything wonderful about a place beckons you never to go. And there are a lot of wonderful things about Munich. One of the best: beer gardens. They're not just for lushes and Lederhosen, either. Not by a long shot. Beer gardens are the most family-friendly places imaginable in that they've got something for everyone in an incredibly relaxed setting. I know that it is not surprising that Germans are responsible for inventing and popularizing such carefree and casual past-time (zing! it actually is suprising!). Most beer gardens have playgrounds, and all have room to run around, self-service food and drinks, and allow you to bring your own grub as well. The one very near to our flat is called Aumeister and it is fabulous. Imagine: first, we take a walk through the English Gartens, one of the largest parks in Europe, filled with streams, rivers, forest, duck ponds, open fields, and all of it is off-leash friendly for the dogs. Then, on the way out, stop at Aumeister beer garden for giant soft pretzels, beer for pops and fizzy apple juice for momma. Squirmy baby gets to crawl around, meet other kids, and maybe even go down a slide. Divine. (Can you hear Sarah MacLachlan's I Will Remember You in the background, or what?)

So, with this in mind, we are trying to go to lots of beer gardens before we go. Or at least go to the beer garden a lot. It's not in our nature to drive too hard in the venturing department, so it may just be a lot of going to Aumeister. Today is Good Friday, so Will has the day off. And Monday is Easter Monday (or Super Good Monday, as I call it), and he has that day off too. So many beer gardens are on our agenda. Oh Munich, Stay Cool and Have a Great Summer. LYLAS.

The Big 3-0

My 30th birthday has now come and gone. And it came in with a bang. The night before, I got the Munich Flu, or whatever GE disease Will brought into our home. I got very, very sick. Many, many times. There was a bucket involved. And a baby who was just getting over her own illness, and so was nursing more than usual, thus draining any scraps of my life force. I also learned that if you try to lie on a couch near a toddler who likes you, she will try to climb on your stomach and face, and this is not at all pleasant when stricken with influenza.

Happily, I recovered awfully fast. In time for Will's surprise of asking some friends along to dinner on Saturday. Edie got to cuddle with her good pal Jack, who is moving back to Australia in a few days. And I got to eat too much, which was fine, on account of my viral crash diet.

Praise Zeus! We're going to Greece!!

Well I am just about as excited as a honey bee buzzing 'round a cherry tree in full bloom! (I really have to work on my adorable Southern similes before moving to Nashville. But I'm not going to get better without throwing some gutter balls, so the intro sentence stays.)

Anyhoo, today we finalized plans to spend three nights in a resort outside of Athens, Greece, and I could not be happier. Grandpa Grissom is coming for a final Euro-adventure while his oldest still lives here, and we've decided to spend part of that time sea-side. Also, I don't mean to brag, but bragging is a little appropriate in this instance: you see, in fourth grade, I was the president of Athens during our Ancient Greece section. It was far and away the most prestigious presidency to have. I mean, Corinth? C'mon. So, a trip to my former land is long overdue. Between beaches, Greek food, golf for the guys and flea markets for me and my unwitting baby sidekick, not to mention a "family room" which entails two separate bedrooms thereby enabling Will and I to have a light or two on past Edie's bed time, we are ready to go. May 31, see you soon.

Reemergence

Determined as I am to keep this blog up to date in order to have a family record of our time here, lately life has kept me from this task. I would like to take this time for Present Rachael to whine to Future Rachael in order to defend myself from far-off judgment.

First, the weather has been really nice. Freaky nice. The frozen swamp that is Munich has defrosted but not yet swamped-over. Sunny days without hordes and hordes of slugs? Sign me up! (Munich is a wonder and a beauty, but, my God, the slugs. So. many. slugs.) So, no complaining here. But it makes it impossible to stay inside. And my computer is inside. So there.

Second, we got sick. First, Edie teethed like only Edie knows how to teethe - 4 teeth in 2 days. Which is not to say that the symptoms of teething lasted 2 days. Hah. No. Then she got a stomach bug. And then, Will and I got colds. Mine seemed a little worse at first, which should have entitled me to a weekend of pampering and being #2 on baby duty. But, Show-Off-Will went ahead and got a stomach flu, vomiting his way to a lazy weekend in bed while Congestion-Headache-Rach tried to assuage the toddler and tire out the dogs. Edie is 100%, though I can see at least two more teeth in the horizon so baby Tylenol is still in the holster. I can leave the box of Kleeex (who am I kidding? it's really a roll of TP) for up to 30 minutes at a time. And Will is currently having a beer with a friend downtown; so whether he's 100% or not, sympathetic-wife-mode has been deactivated.

Third, I've been a-crafting. Lately, I've made some monster book-ends and a felt robot. The felt robot is a prototype. Its really a toy for a little baby, with it's tags and crinkly innards, but this one is flawed beyond mere homemade quaintness, and Edie likes it. She says "bee boo bee boo boo" when she sees it, imitating the "beep bop boop bop" type sounds Will makes as his robot voice. So, of course, it is hers.

Fourth and last, heavens to Betsy it's hard to keep up with a toddler! And this one is not even walking yet. She is everywhere, in everything. And she wants what you got. Try to eat a snack - "Dis?! Dat?!" - translation, "Give it to me now." Try to do the dishes - smash, splosh, spill - translation the contents of your pantry are now on the floor but if you go to them, the child will climb into the dishwasher. Today, I woke up at 7 to exercise before she got up, but, she got up at 7:15. So, fast forward through making three meals, cleaning the kitchen, living room, and dining area all three times, two blissful hours of E napping - half of which I actually took as "me" time, one trip to the park / dog walk, putting away nearly literally everything in the apartment after she went to bed at 7:45 along with some laundry sorting, my butt hit chair to type this post at 9:45. She woke up 15 minutes later. So my butt did too. Alas. It's not a bad life. It's a great one. It is just tiring.

So there you (I) have it.

E's Buddies

Like many other children, Edie loves other kids. Any one yet to hit puberty is of great interest. Of course, as other parents know, a baby's infectious enthusiasm for her peers is interchangeable with a spastic slap-fest. Edie is also very interested in having the parts of a face labeled aloud for her, so in between not-so-gently slapping her friends on the backs or heads, she jabs at their eyes, noses and mouths, asking "Whas dis?" With her dearest pals, Edie shares kisses and hugs. Kisses are square on the mouth, and there is slobber involved. E doesn't want any ambiguity: a kiss means something. She may also sneak in a kiss of a foot or sock, which are her favorite appendage and accessory, respectively.

Older kids are also of great interest to her, and most older kids are interested in babies as well. We don't know any ex pat older kids, though, so it's mostly the locals that we encounter. And cute as she is, I scare off most of these whipper snappers. My neighborhood is full of 6 to 10 year olds, but most of them write me off as a space alien or some equivalent. Only one is brave enough to talk to me - and thus deal with my broken German and misunderstandings - and one other one tries to scare me by shouting loudly at me as he whizzes by on his scooter. I guess he wants to make sure that I Come In Peace. And I do. Today, on the subway, was a particularly sad moment for Edie's social life. A 3 or 4 year old girl sat on her mom's lap next to Edie and I. E and the little girl stared at each other and even held hands. Until the girl heard me talk. Her mom explained that the baby and her mommy speak English. This seemed cruel and inexplicable to her. It actually made her cry. Poor dear.

Guess I'd better start working on my southern drawl if I want to fit in during this next go 'round....

[p.s. Don't be scared by the first pic. That baby is not actually an adorable but deadly pirate. She's just dressed up for Faching (i.e. Carnival).]

I love Sundays

As I've mentioned, and sometimes lamented, everything is closed on Sundays in Munich. Everything productive, anyways. There are some cafes, a few restaurants and, of course, beer gardens, all ready to go. But you're not going to get any errands run during the latter half of your weekend. In a few months, I'll be back to the US, and I know it won't take long for the pace of life there to creep back into our lives. No-work-Sundays, even as I fight them on occasion, are really wonderful. When we wake up, there is no pull in any direction. Only a lazy stillness, plans for pancakes or a walk in the park.

Edie still has her errands to run, however, so Will and I aren't able to be as lazy as we might like. This morning Edie and I hung out on the floor, drinking green smoothies (spinach, ginger, pineapple, cantaloupe and banana was the beverage du jour). After she downed half of hers, complete with frothy green 'stache, off to playing with Dad's beers and the dogs' kibble. It's going to be another good Sunday.

Big News....

Well, we weren't going to spill the beans on this for awhile since it's still a ways off, but due to some corporate espionage, the cat is out of the bag. Our little fam is moving again, now back to US soil. Where are we off to this time? And this time for GOOD??

Nashville!
Will has accepted a position as a Professor of Biomedical Engineering at Vanderbilt University (or "Vandy," as it is universally dubbed by those in the know). Move date is late Summer 2011. We are really, really excited. Nashville advice, visitors, and general congratulations all welcome. More on this as it develops!

[photo from http://pamelatuohyjewelry.blogspot.com/2010/09/nashvilledays-7-8.html]

The Haps

Life with a moving baby has kept me busier than I knew I could be, and a year of German residence has kept me light on the stories. Though I'm not much better at the day to day, it has lost its air of oddity. When I hear the doorbell ring, I now know I will not be able to do much besides pantomime with the visitor, so instead of inviting the encounter, I pop my head out the window and, upon seeing a stranger, often decide to find a happy place and just wait out his or her departure. I can understand context-heavy German well enough to chuckle or give a sympathetic headshake, and I'm quick like a bunny to leave the scene once the conversation begins to demand anything further.

So what is up, then?

Will has found a bromance with a Haus Herr friend. Their second cinema date is this weekend. They meet at the Lowenbrau brewery, drink a giant beer, and then go to a pristine original language movie theater to watch a film with no wives nor baby monitors to distract them from their popcorn and enjoyment. Or from their movie theater beer. (They sell beer everywhere.)

I am gearing up for Kinderbasar season. These are basically large, one-day consignment sales of kids clothes. Having a euro-fabulous baby is impossible on a commoner's wages if you want to shop the boutiques. But the bazaars are a fantastic loophole. Last week I tried to go to one with two friends. True to form, my hastiness and ignorance led us to the drop off day for the bazaar instead of the sale day. Though we did find a kids clothes flea market (these are sub-optimal as you are forced to actually talk to the sellers, but there is still some good-getting). I left with a three items, including the pictured summer dress which is, I'm told, a very fancy brand, all for 9 euros. There were a couple spots in them, but I got them all out with the German equivalent to OxiClean. There is nothing like bargain-hunting and crafty stain removal to get my mommy endorphins going!

As for Edie, she wants to walk, but her Grissom-sized skull and wobbly legs just aren't there yet. She lets go of whatever thing she's pulled herself up to standing with to try and balance without hands. Two seconds is our current record. Little missy is also gabbing up a storm. Her vocab includes soft, hot, up, yes, no, dada, Sugar (as in the dog), woof (again with the dogs), sock, and hat. She can sign for "milk" and "all done." And she knows where her feet, toes, belly, head, and tongue are; how to clap, shake, raise her arms, or "please sit back down in your chair" when asked; and also where to find my nose (finding her own is still too subtle a concept, I think). Edie also loves hugs and kisses and gives them spontaneously to her baby friends and to Billy (if she can catch him) and Sugar. Life with a toddler is endlessly challenging, amazing, and often quite hilarious.

The dogs? Well, they are just fine. They are on a reduced-kibble meal plan, as their duties as clean up crew for Edie left them pudgy and infuriatingly picky about what scraps they would eat. This has made Billy more and more desperate for food, causing him to steal from Sugar's bowl and go after leftovers like a Schnoodle possessed. We think he's actually fatter than before the diet. Go fig. Sugar is increasingly wonderful to the baby, submitting to pets and occasional smacks, while grumpy ol' Billy is like a fat Lochness Monster, seen only for fleeting moments during Edie's waking hours. This weekend, they are getting swept away for a day at the lake with our friend and dogsitter Leanne, who loves them so much that she borrows them from time to time just for fun. For the record, if anyone is out there, I would love a day at the lake.

So, to summarize: absentee fathers, new baby duds, conversations with a 13 mo old, and spoiled dogs. And there you have it!

My Eight Legged "Friends"

I try hard not to kill spiders. Well, at a minimum I think hard on it. If one comes near Edie, it does not last long. Otherwise, I far too often ask Will to do the murderous work that I am unwilling to. I'm not proud of this. I had a semi successful capture and release yesterday that reminded me of a story I wrote for my long defunct blog a couple years back. Since I was, back then, too shy to publicize the existence of a personal blog but now have an inflated ego and a lack of inhibition that child birth bestows upon its actors, here it is:

Trying to Be a Better Vegan

I stopped eating animal products about 8 months ago now. I'd already stopped eating meat, and the transition wasn't as hard as I thought, eating wise. It's the being vegan in the non-eating ways that's really hard. Especially with creepy crawlies (*shudder*). Last week I was trying to get some work done in my home office, when in my peripheral vision I spotted a monstrous, hairy, and (I'm 90% sure of this one) angry spider. I've never relished killing spiders, but mostly because the whole thing is a haze of adrenaline, involuntary yelps, and fighting back tears as I contemplate cleaning up the carnage. But now, I look at this ferocious eight-legged would-be killer, and I think, "Hey there, my arachnid brother, let's not get confrontational. Let's try to do this Ghandi-style." So I grab an empty glass and a piece of paper, and I get Leggy McHorrible trapped in a dome so that I can scuttle him out the door. I approach the front door quickly, fumbling to unlock it as I hold the high-tech spider containment system in my other hand. As soon as I step onto the porch, my heart begins to race as I realize that there's been a security breach; it is GONE. Oh wait, not gone, IT'S CRAWLING ON MY ARM! I had not anticipated that the spider was engaging in psychological warfare by pretending to cooperate. This naivete will be the death of me. And so fight or flight kicks in, and today, like many days, I choose flight. I fling my arm about, causing the glass to be hurled on to the cement porch, and all the while an unintentional horror movie style shriek flies out of me. So there I stood, panting, surrounding by shattered glass, with my two dogs looking on with dismay and disrespect. On the up side, I do believe that the spider survived. The down side? I'm down a juice glass and up one cunning enemy.

[photo of spider is actual size according to my mind's eye]