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]

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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.