Six Months and Sitting Pretty

Little e just turned six months old and she is on the move. She rolls over better than Billy, mastering tummy-to-back, back-to-tummy, and the double roll. And, most frighteningly, Edie is trying to crawl. After weeks of encouraging her to play on the floor, I am now trying desperately to thwart her mobility. Baby wants a toy? Oh, hush now. Mommy will get that for you. You just lay there, nice and limp.

Along with trying to move forward, she's also loving being upright to check out the world around her. Especially those poodles. And so to combine my joint goals of containment and entertainment, we have welcomed the exersaucer into the mix. It's big. It's hideous. And I haven't gotten the nerve to put batteries in it yet. But it is a hit with shortstuff.

Coming soon: adventures in baby-proofing.

New Mom Fashion: You wouldn't call it ugly if you had a 6 mo old

I was finally (basically) fitting into a pair of my pre-pregnancy jeans, when I sat down on my couch in said pants to a swift rrrrrrrriiiiiippppppp. And thar she blows. I cannot tell you how uplifting it is when a combination of your poor physical state and the sheer aged-ness of your clothing causes your wardrobe to self-destruct. I temporarily resigned myself to the yoga pants that got me through my third trimester and beyond. But these German ladies really intimidate a would-be slob like myself. I am, for example, the only person - including the instructor - who shows up to my yoga class in workout clothes.

The solution? Hide that junk in your trunk with some of today's waistline-friendly style fads. I have opted for the so-called "boyfriend jeans" and leggings. Boyfriend jeans are meant to look like you borrowed them from the boy in your life; thus baggy and beat up. Leggings are gloriously stretchy and are meant to be worn with large tops. Katie Holmes and Lindsay Lohan may be wholly irrelevant as actresses, but they've done me a solid on the fashion-front. Seconds on dinner? Yes, please!

And don't worry about how I will I fit into my bridesmaid dress. That's when timeless style comes in. I'm talking S-to-the-panx.

Commence Dorkification of Baby

When I asked Will what he wanted for Father's Day, he did not hesitate: "Matching shirts with Edie." He also declared that every Sunday would be matching shirt day. And thus begins Edie's life of loving embarrassments.

The shirts I chose seemed appropriate for life in the beer capital of the world: Dad's says "Pint" and E's says "Half Pint." Heh. It also provided Will with a semi-normal looking tee shirt that I am hoping will supplant one of his thread-bare, fray-collared, discolored numbers that he nonetheless struts to work in many days (oh the perks of being an engineer).

It took awhile for the shirts to arrive. I ordered them online from a site that takes PayPal. I went to checkout, but PayPal said "you can't ship to GERMANY!!!" So I said, "Back off, PayPal" and I checked with the shirt store who said "Oh, just ignore PayPal. Pick a US shipping address, but we'll send it to the address you gave us." I in turn replied, "Jolly good, then. Cheerio." (The shirt was ordered from the UK). Can you guess what happened next? Could it be an email from my mother in law letting me know that a package from the UK just arrived in Columbia City, Indiana? You betcha.

But it's here now, and the first of oh so many to come Daddy-daughter matchy-matchy photo sessions finally happened.

Slice of Life

Sometimes a photo captures a moment in time perfectly. And this one did. It's not pretty, but it is so very right now for Will and me. We're over-heated, totally battered by a creature who weighs less than 14 lbs, spending the evening unwinding on our trusty Macs. Oh, and das Bier ist Alkoholfrei, entonces no te preocupes.

Reunited, and it felt so good

Big Edie came to Munich last Friday and left just hours ago. The two Es had much fun together. A little too much fun, perhaps, as I wonder how exactly I am going to be able to convince my baby that it's really not feasible for me to carry her around and amuse her during her every waking moment. The ladies explored Old Munich together, Little Edie in her new Indiana Jones sunhat (her ever-expanding head forced me to retire white bonnet). They also read books, took out every single toy that Edie owns, and gazed together in wonderment at baby feet.

Billy was perhaps even more thrilled than Little e. He adores my mom and is extremely protective of her. If she's here, he will hide from us when we try to take him for a walk so he doesn't have to leave her side. I knew that he was over the top happy about her visit because he got, ahem, intimate with his blankets, which he has not done in months. Billy's blanket romance can only be rekindled by true joy in his heart, which his Grandma brings him in spades.

It was so very sad to see her go. We love you, Amma!

Going to the Chapel

My little sis is getting married in less than a month and I just can't believe it. I can't believe she's getting hitched, can't believe she's 27 years old, and can't believe that I've been married for over six years now.

I guess your baby sister always seems too young to have her own wedding, but she's certainly more prepared than we were. Will and I were planning our wedding as we took our last undergraduate finals. We were living in a dingy, over-priced apartment in Ann Arbor that, at the time, I was immensely proud of. Neither one of us had ever worked a full time job for more than a summer, we had no dogs, and the topic of kids was only a "yeah, someday" proposition. Well, we've got the dogs, a kid, and now we just need to learn to stay put in one place for more than 11 months at a time. And maybe some more German.

Gretchen and her beau? Junior siblings they may be, but they have got it together. They've renovated a major fixer-upper into a fantastic home with their own bare hands. They're both successful and ambitious in their respective careers. And I understand that they may get themselves a chicken coop to boot.

On August 7, I will stand by Gretchen as her Matron of Honor as she says "I Do." And then, when she's done hogging the spotlight, I will happily grab a microphone to honor my sister with a toast that is equal parts embarrassment & adoration. I can't wait. Love you guys.

[Pics: R&W at our wedding; G&Q's engagement photo]

Too Hot to Blog

To be clear, *I'm* not too hot to blog. There's really no activity that my current level of post-baby hotness would preclude. The weather's too hot. And my thick Viking blood does not like it.

It's hot, we have no air conditioning, and no blinds in our windows. Ergo, what we do have is an insect menagerie of the likes I have never wished to see. Bees galore, beetles the size of Oreos, and, oh, the moths. Will tried to buy a small a/c unit last weekend, mostly so the baby can sleep better, but there was nary a machine to be found in Munich.

We'd hoped that the hot weather would cook our neighbors upstairs a bit, perhaps slowing them down. Obnoxious neighbor stew has got to be quieter than obnoxious neighbors on ice, right? Unfortunately they seem to be of some type of monster species that thrives on fire.

Tips for beating the heat? Taking a walk by the Isar river as early as possible. Dogs get worn out, and you can enjoy a brief respite of cool breezes. (Little e pictured on this morning's stroll) Makeshift baby pool on the porch. (Will & e in their splashing lessons this weekend) Eat only salad and cereal, stick your teething rings in the freezer, and hope that a thunder storm comes and ends this soon.