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]

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[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.

The Run Down

Here are some highlights from our two weeks stateside.

First stop: Music City. Nashville, TN, that is. We'd never been but had heard that it was a very friendly city. That is a wild understatement. The locals seemingly got the memo that we were hungry for some English-speaking interaction and stopped us at every possible moment to hear our tales or to just quickly blurt "beautiful baby!" while crossing our paths in an intersection. I was elated to show off my language skills to a baby who may rightly be quite skeptical that I should be relied on as her verbal guru, given the fact that I need my iPhone translator app just to make everyday drug store purchases. Since the last time I was in the states I may have inadvertently prompted the young woman working as a cashier at Whole Foods to hit the SOS button at her register as I giddily interjected myself into the conversation she was having with a co-worker, it was wonderful to be in a place where over-sharing with strangers was not tolerated but totally welcome.

Edie took to the car seat better than expected, though she resisted sleeping in it for many days. At one point, I caught her eyes closing, her security blanket begin to cover part of her face, only to have her dig deep, pull the blanket down and yell "BOO!" She'd never been a fan of peekaboo until it because a tool in her arsenal against rest.

The photo doesn't capture much Nashvillian, but I was very remiss in my photography during those first few harrowing days. And doesn't she look silly? A baby in a grown up hat, y'all!


Yes, Michigan! We spent one day in Ann Arbor, not taking in too many sights given the frigid temperatures. But we did go into the original Borders store and not-so-slyly get a photo with a UofM flag in the background.

Also during our trip, Herr Doktor turned 30. Family and friends joined us for a 5:00 pm pizza dinner to celebrate, and then Old Man River was gifted a night out on the town while I took babycakes home to sleep. He played Wii rockband, drank beer, and did not miss us very much during those all too brief hours.

We wish we could have seen all of you during this trip, though we were fortunate to see as many as we did. Love to all!

Only you can prevent baby jet lag

We've returned from our trip the the US and we're all a little worse for the wear. Overcoming baby jet lag, coming and going, is no easy feat. On the plane ride there, travel time approaching 14 hours, Edie slept for about 90 minutes. She was happy as a clam for the most part, reaching a state of delirious exhaustion that only turned into alternating pitiful passing out / cries for help at the very end. When we reached the hotel, some 8 hours passed her natural bedtime, I was inexplicably optimistic that she would sleep through the night. But, 3 hours later, she woke up, determined to join her German brethren for their waking hours even though she was not happy about it. I learned that I can sing "Hush Little Baby," rub her back, and get my nose clawed at, all whilst in a half sleep state myself during our stay in that fine Marriott. Dad and Magical No Sleep Baby pictured above at a truly inhumane hour. Apparently we'd lost the ability to re-snap onesies at this point.

Don't forget the nanners

As I've said, you don't know what kind of parent you'll be until you are one. And any judgments you pass on other parents beforehand are likely to bite you where it counts. Will and I learn this everyday, and never so much as today, while we pack for our trip to the U.S. Who are we? Crazy parents. Crazy over-prepared, crazy cautious, and some other kinds of crazy as well.

Our levels of crazy have reached new heights in trying to plan for a painless as possible flight. If airport security rifles through my meticulously packed bags for E, I might weep. We will be toting some of Edie's favorite toys, which have been hidden from her view for the past week in an effort to new-ify them. All manner of favorite foods, not the least of which are two immaculate bananas. Diaper count is in the double digits, and we've even acquired a season of Yo Gabba Gabba, loaded onto DVDs as well as my iPhone for her majesty's viewing pleasure. We don't do baby TV at home, but we're entering the Baby Thunderdom here, people: two parents enter, and we'll be happy if one leaves.

Add to this a suitcase packed with a second identical security blanket, lest the first meet its end, and a battery-operated stuffed turtle that displays the constellations on the ceiling, and you've got an idea of depth we plummeted to.

I've scoured the internet for baby flying advice, baby jet lag tips, and have boned up on my Eckhart Tolle. No magic bullets, it seems. The New England Journal of Medicine has not published any studies that advise parents to sedate their babies on aircrafts (hey, I'm not generally for it, but who would I be to argue with the experts?). So, we're left with loving that baby, remembering that bad days pass eventually, and are heartened with the knowledge that non-Germanified Mexican food awaits us.

And with that, dear friends and family, we beg you to get those avocados ripening for the guacamole and make note of 24 hour stores nearby that we might visit if not for midnight baby emergencies than simply for midnight excursions to bask in the conveniences that our fair homeland has to offer. Wish us luck, and see you soon.

A Christmas Miracle, no thanks to Amsterdam Schipol

My mom, dad, sister, and newly-minted brother-in-law came to Munich this year for Christmas. We weren't going to be able to make it back to the US for the holidays this year, so it was either fly solo or get lucky enough to have family members make the trek to us. Happily and unexpectedly, it was the latter. The week they spent here was great, fraught only with the occasional mishap.

It started out a little rocky. A few days before her departure, Mom warned me that travel to Europe was rough on account of the crazy storms. I looked out at Munich's blue skies, modest 2 inches of snow, and chalked it up to her not-completely-infrequent bouts of paranoia.

Take last year's Swine Flu debacle, for example. I was pregnant at the time, and my mom was watching way too much TV news, news that was apparently chanting "Get your pregnant daughters vaccinated. NOW!" I wasn't opposed to the vaccine, mind you. I shudder to think of the conflict if that had been the case. No, I'd done my homework and decided it was a good idea to get, especially with my then-impending international travel. What I was, in my mother's eyes, was fool hardy and lazy in my attempts to obtain the shot. (Nevermind that I went to two vaccination clinics and called my ob/gyn, all for naught, being told that the manufacturing was behind and that it would be a few weeks before supply caught up to demand.) She became some sort of vaccine-hunting vigilante, calling every doctor listed and attempting to befriend receptionists, certain that they could get us into the inevitable swine flu vaccine black market cache. She listened to county health department 800 number recordings over and over again, sure that a message would reveal itself in code. After weeks of upping the fear ante, culminating with the possibility that fast-moving pig zombies were targeting pregnant Michiganders in their bloodthirsty quest to annihilate humanity, I got my shot, suffered no barnyard or other zoological disease during the remainder of gestation, and the matter was put to rest.

So, anyways, I thought that the Euro travel thing was of a similar vein. E.g. "The CNN says that Martial Law has taken over in every European airport! Oh the humanity........." I told her that I thought everything would be fine. And when I woke up the morning of their arrival to find that their flight from Amsterdam to Munich had been canceled indefinitely, I started to give the CNN a little more credit.

My parents finally arrived after a lucky break with standby some 10 hours later, but were luggage-less. Losing one's luggage is always an unfortunate ordeal. But this was Christmas. All of my mom's gifts were in there. And my mom goes all out for Christmas. Not necessarily in the spending department, but in the thoughtfulness. Gifts are often handmade, always personal, usually totally unexpected. She remained stoic about it, but it must have hurt.

Two days later, my sister and her husband arrived. Their trip had been seamless, thankfully. On a whim my mom mentioned to them that they might check baggage claim for their luggage. Having no evidence that their suitcases had even gotten to Munich - in fact, the airline's tracking info claimed that it was still en route - coupled with the fact that there were hundreds and hundreds of unclaimed bags in every airport, it was a long shot.

But just when you think the chips are down, that's when Quay arrives; my strapping new brother-in-law who you can't not love. For Christmas one year while he was dating my sister, be got her a new bed frame. That is, he built her a new bed frame. On top of being almost comically talented at all things handy, from carpentry to animal husbandry, he's also the warmest, most affable guy you're likely to encounter. So much so that Will has no hard feelings over losing the post of #1 son-in-law to this worthy arrival. Even Edie noticed, deciding that amid her tragic bout of mom-only separation anxiety, Quay was a-ok. As this particular legend goes, Quay and Gretchen arrive in Munich, exhausted and weary. They see mountains and mountains of luggage and are armed with only vague descriptions of my parents' nondescript Samsonites. They begin to look, and look, and look, and finally Gretchen - 22 weeks pregnant, mind you - says "I'm tired. Let's go." But that would not do, so our hero says "Just one more look." And in the end, they were victorious, and Quay saved Christmas.

So we lived what will certainly become a family tale of loss and redemption, along with a reminder to listen to your mamma - no matter how much CNN she watches.