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]

Puppy-baby

Dogs and babies are certainly not interchangeable, but with a crawler in the house these days, I find that my fur babies have provided me with some relevant expertise. They both like to eat off the floor more than off of their generously provided meal dishes. Edie's tastes include bits of paper and, curiously, the very food she threw off of the table during breakfast lunch or dinner. Both species enjoy barging in on my yoga routine to attack my face or just sit squarely where I need to be. And neither dog nor child can get enough of shoes. Interestingly, though, only my baby trots into see me, dragging footwear in with her teeth.

Communicating about Elimination

Having crossed off most hip parenting maneuvers - some victorious, some not so much - pretty early on in E's life, it stands to reason that we would at least consider Elimination Communication somewhere down the line. Elimination Communication, or "EC," is a diaper alternative. In essence, you figure out when your baby needs to potty, and you stick 'em on said pot when that time arrives. I know it sounds bonkers, and maybe it is, but it's not some quirky, show-off move in many parts of the world. It's just how it's done. We started at about 4 months and have been going with it since.

The downsides? Some folks won't like it, and they just might tell you about it. Their concern is usually that you are trying to potty-train a wee babe. But rest assured, as I hold my princess over the pot, singing our potty song and helping her count her toes, it is me who is trained and she who is going to the bathroom Cleopatra style. Another is restricted mobility. Give a baby the knowledge that she needn't poop her pants and she may just call you out on it, giving you a shout or seven while in her stroller when she needs the loo, pronto.

The upsides? Photo ops like the one above. Hello, Edie's Sweet Sixteen slideshow! And so few messy diapers that you have to bite your tongue not to brag about it. (But I do bite it. Karma doesn't like braggarts.)

Awesome stuff my husband has said lately: 2

R: [home from grocery store] Hey!
W: Hey.
R: [Pretends he asks how her shopping trip went.] Well, I found cumin, luckily. Actually, a funny thing happened. I ran into my friend A. [an expat mom who speaks German] and she saved me from accidentally buying caraway instead of cumin. They have almost the exact same name in German. And they look alike. So that was a really lucky break! We need cumin for dinner tonight! But, now we've got tons of cumin.
...
[1 hour later]
...
W: [helping prepare dinner] Oh no! I think we're out of cumin!
R: [shakes head]

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Edie is now in the "Dis!" "Dat!" phase where she wants you to label everything in sight. Her amusement for this cataloging know no bounds. But it does make for good conversation points when you get sick of hearing about her ignorance regarding current affairs.]

E: "Dis!" "Dat!?" (points in some general direction)
W: [looks up from his computer] "That's a lot of different things. It's hard to explain." [Back to the computer he goes.]

Travel Series #4: Salzburg

Sunshine and guest of honor Uncle Dave got us moving again last weekend on a trip to Salzburg, Austria. Salzburg is the natal home of Mozart, which Salzburg does not want you to forget. From the Mozart museum, Mozart statues, to Mozart chocolates and - oddly - Mozart perfume (smells like genius and powdered wigs?), the hills were alive with Wolfgang Amadeus Tourist Traps.

Salzburg is home to one of the largest medieval castles in Europe, the Hohensalzburg Fortress. It rests atop a steep hill, which you can generally climb with the help of a frightening looking trolley-type contraption. My fear of heights includes a fear of all man made apparati; I trust my own two feet and the solid ground most of all, as senseless as that may be given my lack of surefooted-ness. So I summarily rejected the idea of making the almost vertical climb in that metal death trap. Luckily for me, it was closed for repair. Not wanting to miss the experience, we trekked up the icy path. Will's legs bore the brunt of our group's efforts since he was on stroller duty. His sweat and heaving lulled Edie into a sweet slumber and so she snoozed for most of the hike. Add a few more Dad points to his card for that one.

3 Faces of Disgust

This is Edie's first birthday week. A magical week filled with firsts. First time pulling herself up to standing. First time telling us "no" with fierce head shaking. First xylophone. And first cupcake. The last one had me filled with visions of a sugar-mad baby, shoveling in her tasty treat, loving every minute of it. But, Edie decided instead to teach me a little more about non-attachment. Three dozen cupcakes later, I have admitted to myself that, for now, this kid does not like cupcakes.

First we tried carrot cake cupcakes with orange buttercream frosting, lovingly made from scratch. She did not hide her disapproval in the least. Second, I thought we'd go for a more decadent treat. German chocolate. A birth right, it would seem. She examined it like a repulsed Biology student, enjoying neither the coconut icing nor the moist chocolate cake. Third, we went back to basics: vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting. And another resounding "nuh-uh."

So Edie's belly is free from homemade desserts, while my pants are snug with them. I've finally packaged them all up in the fridge, awaiting her father's return this Friday, lest I help myself to any more in the interim. The lady knows what the lady likes, and it ain't my baking.