Dribs and Drabs

Alex is sick, I am sick, the Noodle is sick. It is very gray and very cold outside. Bleargh. Our apartment is awash in Kleenex and yuck. Seems like a great time to update the old blog with some pictures from the last month or so, in which we went to the zoo twice and enjoyed a wonderful visit from my mom, aka Grandma aka Nana. 

Brace yourself for a ton of photos, because I don't have the brains to write today. 

Our first zoo trip, about a month ago, was with a group our friend Antonia, her siblings, their respective partners, and all their babies. It was madness, and lots of fun. Our second zoo trip, last week, resulted in far fewer photos because we were already totally jaded by wild caged animals. We were with Alex's brother and his wife, plus their fabulous daughter Charlotte, who gave the Noodle this awesome stuffed pink llama. Because I am awesome, I don't have photos of any of these things. However, I have a picture of this lemur: 

By our second zoo trip, we were jaded as this lemur. 

Here is a young elephant. 

Our only real photo of Noodle during Visit #2: Speaking with a distant cousin. 

The rest of these photos are from our first visit. Here we see a young Mr. O on a giant salamander,
in front of the salamander climbing wall. Obviously.

Noodle and Sir E. We took about 475 photos at this juncture. Amazingly,
this is the best one. Sad indictment of my photo skills/ toddlers' ability to stay still
and smile in the same direction at the same time. 

Mr. O and his mama. 

A rhino. In case you were unsure. This was just one of the many animals
that Miss Noodle did not give a flying f*** about. 

Not pictured: Multiple adults behind the camera, begging their kids
to look this direction. 

A dopey looking pelican. So cute! (This IS a pelican, right?)

Mr. E and his daddy and mommy, inspecting the most interesting
animal at the zoo...the foliage. 

Miss Noodle and Alex near the elephant enclosure. 

It is us!

Noodle inside the ibis enclosure. So much excitement!

A week later, my own Mommy came to town. With a suitcase of presents and two hands for playing with her granddaughter. She is probably the Noodle's favourite person ever. I'm trying to think of a clever analogy to demonstrate how well they fit together, but I'm not really in top mental form right now. They fit together like, like...they fit each together like a thing and its analogy, for example.

...Yeah, that'll have to do.

Anyway. Behold! A smattering of photos with Grandma.

Grandma, Alex and a grumpy, hungry Noodle at the Bienenfest (Bee Festival). 

The weather was properly Byronic.

Noodle riding a wooden snail.

And crossing a mini suspension bridge...

We were am Himmel, a beautiful (more so when the sun shines) hilltop
featuring a restaurant, tree circle, vineyards and this epic playground. 

Okay, apparently I can't find any more photos from Grandma's visit. Hmm. But here is Noodle. 

Right. Sadly, this is all the energy I can muster at this time. Do you know how tired we are? We are so tired that we fed our 14 month old daughter chicken nuggets from McDonalds because I can't be bothered to cook two warm meals today. (Alex seems to think this is fine. I think we should never tell anyone it happened...oops). And the television has been on literally all day. And as I type this the Noodle is unwinding a whole roll of paper towels and we are pretending not to notice. And we do not care. That is how zippy and dynamic we are over here, friends.

Have a lovely Sunday!

*COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH COUGH SNIFFLE*

So, So Bad at Blogging: All of July!

I haven't posted anything here for nearly a month, which must be some kind of sad record. Lame! In my defence, it is summer and my parents were in town and we've been spending as much time as possible outdoors, catching the odd breeze, swimming in the Danube, and generally trying not to melt away. The weather has turned a little cooler, and as it's now bearable indoors let me try and recall all of the things we were up to: 

Late last month we went to the beautiful wedding of our friends Jenny and Markus. It was a garden party and Noodle, like everyone else, had a blast. There were many other, bigger kids there who were all sweet to her, as were the grownups. She even ate some grownup food--vegetarian lasagna--except by "eat" I mean she sucked off all the bechamel sauce and spat the veggies out. That's my girl.  

Dad keeping an eye on our stuff as we took a playground
break after a long walk in the Lainzer Tiergarten.

My parents were here! As usual, they filled our lives with extra happiness for two whole weeks. The Noodle was delighted to be the center of attention. Unlike when she is stuck with boring old Mommy, who has to interrupt playtime to do the dishes and work and fold laundry and cook, when Grandma and Granddad are around every day is an endless party. 

Grandma and the Bubble

The grandparents also arrived, as is their habit, with suitcases stuffed full of books and toys and gorgeous gently-used hand-me-downs from the gorgeous and slightly older daughter of an old school friend, whom her parents sometimes call the Squish. Squishy, we are grateful. Your parents (and grandparents) have excellent taste and are supremely generous to boot. Thank you! 

But all this largesse was added into an apartment so stuffed that the walls seem to be creeping toward each other--but my parents, ever vigilant and willing to spoil their adult children rotten--were totally awesome and bought us another closet. They are amazing. 

Indeed they are so amazing that in the middle of their visit, Alex and I left them with our kiddo and went off for our first post-baby weekend alone. 

At the Villa Borghese

All hail the Pantheon, which
would be a wonder even if it
was built yesterday.

We flew off to Rome on a Friday afternoon, drank a lot of gin, ate a lot of pasta and saw an absurd number of impossibly perfect and impossibly ancient buildings. 

We took one incredibly crappy 10-minute tour of the Colosseum (Never ever pay Follow Me tours anything. Ever.) that was followed by an awesome tour of the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill by a guy who is usually an actor but is a licensed guide on the side. 

If you're thinking of going to Rome I wouldn't bother...

...the place is just falling apart. 

Our guide was so engaging that we signed up for another two hour walk with him in the evening, after which we were totally wrecked but pleased by the vast amount of information we'd absorbed in the span of one day. I'm going to glue his business card into our Rome guidebook for our next trip, which needs to be soon and last longer.

We were trapped by this tiny gladiator, who later insisted
that we pay him five euros for the pleasure of having been
physically coerced into taking pictures. Five each, that is.
We gave him two, total, received a hearty
vaffanculo and were sent on our way.

On Sunday evening we returned home, fatter and happier. 

Our daughter, we noted, was also fatter and happier upon our return. Apparently my mom spent the whole weekend singing this kid nursery rhymes, letting Noodle strum her guitar, practicing walking and generally feeding this baby something every five minutes all day long. My dad, who had cabin fever, undertook numerous household repairs that wouldn't even have occurred to us but which make our lives better. He even...and this is actually just embarrassing...cleaned our bedroom. True story. My father cleaned my bedroom. I am 31 years old. I am married. WTF. I love my parents. 

Now my parents have gone and we're back to our usual routine. Weekends we've spent down by the Danube with friends and every week day that isn't rainy we spend a couple of hours at one of the nearby playgrounds. 

This is on a constitutional with my parents. We are led by my father, who ends up using his cell phone's GPS to chart a course along an invisible pig trail to nowhere that forces us straight through a waist-high embankment of brambles and hog shit. Everyone ends up either bleeding or having probably contracted some swine-borne disease that won't manifest for six months, when it will be too late. A good day out. 

The Noodle has changed so much in the last month. She's right in between being a baby and a toddler. Her lovely pumpkin visage is becoming a little more butternut-squash, by which I mean thinner, and her little arms and legs are just a little less chunky. Her hair is starting to look like real hair. She pulls herself up on everything and cruises around the room at great speed, although so far no apparent ambition to stand or walk without support. She's much more interested in other children, and in the sandbox she'll sometimes crawl over and annoy the great big toddlers who are baking their sand cakes and digging pointlessly elaborate holes. 

My pookies.

Noodle babbles all the time, tries very hard to sing whenever music is playing ("DAAAAAAAH"), does the classic baby dance (bouncing on her knees, pushing her tummy forwards and backwards and saying "yeahyeahyeahyeah"), and is starting to use a couple words. In addition to using the baby signs for "milk" and "more," she can definitely say no, either by shaking her heard or babbling "neineineineinen" ("nein" is no in German), and she says "das," "this" and "that," which often sound like "dis" or "dat". 

"That?" she points. 
"That is the cat," I say. "Shiva the cat. Cat."
"Ngat. Daaat," she says. "Dis. Das. That." And then she laughs with amazement at her own brilliance.
It's pretty cute. And of course, I think she is kind of brilliant. 

Lastly, and this is a big one: WE HAVE TEETH. Two of 'em. Okay, at the moment they're only a third of the way out--but they are proof of concept. The teeth really do exist. To go with the teeth we have purchased a baby toothbrush and some baby toothpaste, and have taken up the habit of brushing those narrow slivers morning and night. It's a two second job, which may be why she doesn't seem to mind much. I have no idea how you are supposed to get a baby to rinse and spit, though. Our current method is to brush and then spill water down the front of her pyjamas. It's a good system, but we'd take any advice you might have. 

Our current all-time favorite photo, thanks to Jenny's wedding photographer.

OKAY. And I herewith declare this blog updated! 

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.

Baby Swimming!

Is there anything more adorable in the entire world than heaps of little babies doing things? Of course not!

It's good to have baby friends. This picture taken two
months ago. Clockwise from the top: Nava, Noah and Enzo.
Nava was a *little* unhappy and Enzo looks surprised,
but hey - at least Noah (another best baby buddy)
is in control of the situation. 

So it was with great glee that my friend Antonia and I signed our little whippersnappers up for baby swim classes, which started this week. 

Nava's friend Enzo is two weeks older than her, but in fact their due dates were only three days apart. Which is to say, they're about as close in age as two people can get. This is great for Antonia and I, since during our pregnancies we could call each other and ask intensely personal questions about growths and appetites, and now we can compare shades of poop and our babies' bizarre reluctance to roll from front to back (yet!). It's all very reassuring.  

I wasn't really sure what to expect at a swim class for infants. Certainly not a lot of swimming, obviously. 

At the pool with Nava, who just figured out where
she got her double chin. All pictures thanks to
Antonia, who couldn't swim because she's
recovering from shingles. 

It turned out to be pretty cute. First we sang a song introducing all the babies by name, and then we held the kids in different positions while we pulled them in circles through the pool so that they could get a feel for the water on their skin. At the end, the babies were paraded under a bent swimming noodle while the instructor used a tiny watering can to baptise each head. And boom, 25 minutes and 25 euro were gone for good. 

Nava was doing great until the part where I was supposed to drag her on her back, supporting her head in one hand with my other hand on her chest. I think this is because, being the hero that I am, I managed to get a bunch of water in her ears and nose. 

The instructor kept talking about letting the babies relax completely, but mine was sort of kicking and struggling and attempting not to drown, so I might have done something wrong there. Anyway, I'm sure Nava will grow up to be a little water rat. Her dad and I both are, so it stands to reason. A little water down the wrong tubes is just part of the process. Right? Right. 

Naomi, Nava, Enzo, and his aunt, Domenica.
I cannot tell you how badly Nava wanted Enzo's ears. Very badly indeed. 

We hear that one day baby heads are going to actually go UNDER WATER, and we were given arm floaties, so I assume we can also look forward to independent baby bobbing. Can't hardly wait for next week. 

Happy New Year! Part 2

In the years since 1999, that long-anticipated apex of balls-to-the-wall party ecstasy, my own New Year's tendencies have - on the whole - shifted away from glitter and alcoholic excess. My problem is that I can no longer be both drunk and awake for longer than three hours, and a proper big night out on New Year's is all about endurance. 

One year ago at the Grand Canyon, where it was cold.

I tend to start out with a lot of vim and then fizzle out. Last year is not a bad example. Alex and I were at the Grand Canyon. I was pregnant and therefore not drinking, which was too bad, since we went to a so-called New Year's "party" that just begged for six or seven colourful and umbrella'd beverages in quick succession. We'd been lured in by a pretty girl in red lipstick and six-inch glitter heels who promised live music and steak, and by the fact that there was literally nothing else to do of this 0°F evening up at old Grand Canyon Village. 

I was lucky enough to visit Israel and Palestine
at work. I travelled with some amazing people, and I met
some amazing people while we were there.
A highlight of my year. This photo taken in Gaza city, Feb. 2013.

Inside the restaurant was a motley crew of couples and families stranded in the snow for the new year, along with one big table of super-drunk French people whom everyone secretly envied because they were actually having fun. A middle-aged woman at the table beside us got so hammered that her utterly disgusted husband had to take her home by about 10pm. I did, in fact, nurse one blue cocktail all night long in an unsuccessful effort to feel festive. It was served in a small glass boot for some punny reason I can't remember. The friendly couple we shared a table with seemed to be having fun, but of course excessive vodka consumption will do that to you. 

Our  room at the Grand Canyon featured - true story - this complimentary
paper towel and a "fresh remote." I'm just putting this photo up to make you jealous. 

Alex and I ended up laughing all night, but mostly at the epic mediocrity, from the obscene cost to the skimpy and poorly-timed meal (bland, but at least there wasn't much of it), to the scrappy but charming band that failed to rouse anyone to dance. The best part was the sweetly crappy cardboard diversions heaped glittering on each table: squawkers and confetti and silly hats. 

Got to marry this guy at the most spectacular
unwedding ever, which ain't bad at all.

Anyway, we managed to sit through this interminable party until midnight, at which point we kissed, toasted our soon-to-be firstborn, announced our undying affection for each other, and left. Back at our only slightly shabby hotel, we watched Storage Wars for a little bit before turning in. 

In principle, though, I fully support the near-universal and deeply religious ritual of boozing in the New Year, and so THIS year I was a little bit sad that I wouldn't even be able to pretend to participate in it. There was so much to celebrate: getting hitched, moving apartments, Alex's new business, and most importantly, the arrival of our utterly perfect daughter and, with her, that richly apple-fresh feeling of being part of the life all around us and even adding to it. 

Puffy McNoodle, one day old. 

So I'd told my friend Nora, who was having a New Year's party and who was heading back to New York the next day, that I'd try to come by and say hello and see everyone I never get a chance to see but would leave to go home before midnight so that I could actually ring in the new year with my man and (hopefully) slumbering baby.  

Got to spend 5 weeks hanging with my
brilliant dad...

...and my wonderful mom.

Let me tell you how I felt about that plan at about 7pm, when we'd finally dragged our sluggish selves home from the airport and put (tossed?) our totally over-exhausted babe in bed. Yes. That is correct. I was not enthusiastic. 

Thus I was literally overjoyed - my heart burst into confetti, I promise - when, just five minutes after we got home, I peered out of our window and saw on the street below glorious Nora, effervescent Monica and marvellous Thomas, loud and happy and apparently drinking a bottle of champagne. They'd brought the party to US! 

"We thought you might be mad," said Nora, "because of the baby." What hooey. It was effing awesome.  

The only picture I could find that includes all three
New Year's heroes: Monica (far left), Nora (middle) and
Thomas (far right). I LOVE YOU. 

With merry hearts we emptied that bottle of champagne, gold flakes and all, had a whispered (because baby) but nonetheless vigorous catch-up, and finally sent the three merry-makers on their merry way so Nora could make it to her own party. Guys, I love you and you make my life better.  

Some time after they'd gone I heard the baby snuffle in our bedroom where she was sleeping, so I went in with a bottle and slowly drifted off myself. Alex joined us in bed. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was the clock: 11:45pm. 

Deep in the night Alex poked me awake. "Happy New Year," he said, and gave me and the baby snoring between us a kiss. 

Young McNoodle, five months later. 

"Happy New Year," I said. 

And I swear, guys, it was the best one yet. 

Down at the Pumpkin Patch

Just got back from Thanksgiving with my aunts, uncles and cousins in Houston! But before I get into all of that, I just have to share our photos of the baby at the pumpkin patch. 

Pretty much the only reason for pumpkin patches is to photograph your offspring at them, right? 

A likely-looking pumpkin patch at the Dallas Arboretum

The whole family was in one place, including Nava's Uncle Elliott, and to my knowledge none of have taken pictures at a pumpkin patch in years and years and years, because it's kind of a weird thing to do without kids, but this time we had a kid and so off we went! Or rather, my mother was working but ordered the rest of us to go. 

We had a sapphire sky and high hopes we had for pictures of adorable punkins and rosy cheeks! 

Unfortunately, it was also the very last day of the pumpkin patch season, freezing cold, the sun was setting and the baby was asleep under many layers of blankets. 

Isn't she adorable up on that bridge to nowhere? Awwww. 

Oh well. There's always next year. 

Nava, her granddad and a pumpkin

Makin' those memories to last a lifetime with Elliott

She's in there somewhere, promise.