Merry, Happy Everything

The last shreds of wrapping paper have been swept away, the crispy tree was chucked away and the drooping stockings have been folded up until next year. Horrifyingly, most of the chocolate has been eaten. Christmas is definitely over. Heck, it’s a new year (happy new year!). The post-holiday hangover is here in full force.  

Ohai

Usually we celebrate Christmas with my parents, but this year we were on our own.  This is a bummer. On the plus side, the Noodle, who is now two and a half years old, provided enough Christmas spirit for everyone, even my light-one-Hanukah-candle-on-day-three-Baruch-Hashem-Adonai-Elohim-and-fuggedaboutit husband. Because who doesn’t love Christmas?

Indeed it was jingle bells all day, every day from the instant we opened the first window of her little advent calendar. As she said (a lot): “Happy birthday Jesus! Merry Christmas! Santa is coming with PRESENTS.”

Noodling around

The young Banana, who is not yet three months old, was surprisingly disinterested in proceedings. Nonetheless we filled her stocking for the look of the thing, and her big sister ransacked it after her own was empty, so I’m pretty sure we’ve established what will be a tradition for the next few years. And Christmas is all about traditions, right?

 I’m afraid we failed to properly transmit the Real Meaning of Christmas to our children (Giving, right? Or was it redemption. I can never remember), but in our defense it’s difficult to explain to a two year old. 

Skyping with the grandparents on Christmas Day

I thought that for now it would be enough to convey that Christmas is the birthday of Jesus, but even this was kind of a sticking point, because there is zero overlap between that story and the story of Santa, which she of course also learned about. It's a mess. 

You see, Noodle, we are celebrating the birth of Jesus whom we say is the son of God, plus Santa brings us presents, plus also in Austria Baby Jesus is the one who brings the presents. 

Sisters

Noodle and I were reading and singing this picture book of traditional Christmas carols that my mom gave her, and she kept trying to find Santa. She points to Joseph – is this Santa? Nope. The angel – is THIS Santa? Nope. Shepherd? Nope. Other shepherd? King Wencelas? Three kings? Nope, nope and nope, and the camels aren’t reindeer either. 

In addition to the Santa story and the Jesus story, there are a decorative indoor tree and oversized socks. Also diverse numbers: Advent is the 24 days on your calendar, and the five candles in this wreath, but we sing a song about the twelve days of Christmas (side note: why so many birds?) , and also Daddy is into the eight days of Hanukah. 

So yes. All in all, thank goodness for presents. They really tied the season together. 

More soon! xx

After the first snowfall of the season. Happy New Year!

The Parents Were Here

Grandma and Puffes Noodle

My parents were here, so of course I have been drinking.  This is not a reaction to them. This is simply the organic result of having free babysitters who are happy as little clams to bounce the baby and stuff her full of pureed carrots. 

They came last Thursday, suitcases bursting with beautiful baby clothes and toys and books and candy (that's for the grownups around here, who apparently are believed to have the dietary preferences of six year-olds raised in an American food desert), to spread merriment and good cheer around our humble abode. Hooray! And then in the wee hours this morning they left. Sorrow.

Luggage McNoodle and her dad

The trip was a great success. On Saturday we drove out to Peilstein to wander around the 7km "Erlebnisweg", but about two kilometers into our walk the sky darkened and it began to drizzle, so we turned around. The last kilometer or so we were walking into a freezing, hurricane-like wind through shards of frozen rain, which was sort of adventurous and magical until the Noodle (understandably) decided she had had quite enough thank-you-very-much and lapsed into a low-level grousing combined with repeatedly smacking her father about the head. 

Granddad in the woods

Weather notwithstanding we managed to gather a big bag of Bärlauch (bear leek, or woods garlic) and before driving home we warmed ourselves up in a Heuriger with beer, diverse pork and knödel, so we can't really complain. 

It's always good to have Noodle's grandparents around. Our baby had the time of her life because she got to be carried around all day long and there was always someone around to play peekaboo and wake up with her at five a.m. (thanks, Dad!). Alex and I could leave the apartment with nothing in our hands (hooray!) and even go on dates with each other, can you imagine, including to the cabaret. I've had three separate low-level hangovers in six days--great success! My mother spent her time campaigning hard for grandparent of the year, reading books, shaking rattles and singing nursery rhymes over and over and over again. Also she has rearranged my pantry in her usual wonderful if totally inscrutable way. 

Slightly manic mama and her indignant, pink-cheeked offspring
dry off after walking through the driving rain.

My poor father, however, did not leave Vienna unscathed. He went out on an innocent 9 a.m. hunt for sausages on Monday morning and ended up getting punched in the face by a flying street sign, which had been dislodged by a tremendous gust of wind. Sadly for all of us scroungers at home he didn't file a complaint or otherwise extort the responsible shopkeeper. Such a nice man. As of yesterday the bleeding had stopped and the swelling has gone down, so that's good. He has refused all offers of ice but has been eating copious amounts of ibuprofen and appears to be recovering well. He is a beacon of manly suck it up-ness. Stiff upper lip and all that...get it? GET IT?  

Battle scars.

Come again soon, Mom and Dad! We miss you already.