ze french

Hi there.  I am the woman who writes this blog.  Really, I do write it - all the time.  In my head.  Oh, that doesn't count, eh?  Well, how about a little update...

See this forlorn luggage sitting in my dining room?  That is a miracle-turned-disaster.  So this is what happened, first we planned this lovely trip to visit our friends in Paris and do a bit of hiking along the coast in France.  Beautiful, right?  After a sweet (but early, as usual, thanks to a certain someone who shall remain unnamed) morning of coffee drinking, we got to work packing.  And, believe it or not, we were finished an hour early.  No, I'm not kidding, an hour. With a six-month-old.  I should have known it was too good to be true.  David even rigged a handy-dandy way to attach the pack n' play to a suitcase so we didn't have to carry it.  He's awesome like that.  But back to my story, there we are, making our way to the train.  We were so early, we stopped at a bakery for some yummy snacks for the train.  As we come up from the Ubahn into the Hauptbahnhof, I notice the departures board doesn't have any Paris destinations.  Strange - must be a mistake, I think, but really, what was I thinking?  I'm in Germany, they don't make mistakes here.  Undeterred, we head for the platform, only to discover that our train isn't going to Paris.  No trains are going to Paris.  Because ze french (and yes, you must say it with an awful accent) are on strike.

Hate.

So now my bags are sitting, somewhat unpacked, in my dining room.  And I am supposed to be in this beautiful dining room...

talking, laughing, drinking and planning a trip to St. Malo while little darlings play at our feet.

Merde.

bababa

It isn't quite babbling yet, but it sure is sweet...


Ba Ba Ba from David G on Vimeo.

napping

This is what I usually find when Ellie wakes from her morning nap.  You know you've napped hard when the fingerprint evidence is imprinted on your forehead.

and we're off

What do you do with a nearly six month old when her daddy has to travel to Berlin for two weeks with no notice? Why, you hop on a train and run like mad for your dear friends in Paris.  Oui, oui!  So that's exactly what we're doing.

Eleanor and I are spending three days next week with Ingrid and Gabriella (a cutie also born in December at the Geburtshaus.)  I foresee lovely walks in the park, munching on crusty baguettes, and consuming cup after cup of dark French roast.  Perfect, non?  Now I just have to figure out how keep the girl entertained during our four-hour train ride...

must post

I'm writing this post in my bathrobe.  On my living room floor with a cup of coffee and the Today show in the background.  This is my new spot since Eleanor has decided that staying put is for babies, and she is most definitely not one of them.  I am so proud of her, really, I am.  But I am going to lodge one complaint against the universe.  Five months!?!?!?!?!!??  That's all I get?  I only had five months before I had to start chasing her around?  Couldn't we make a deal, maybe, more than four hours of sleep in a row in exchange for not being able to run to the bathroom without setting up barricades?

So needless to say, I haven't had as much time as usual lately.  I've taken photos, but the act of putting them on the computer apparently requires the strength (and time) of two mamas.  That, and we haven't seen any sun in the past two and a half weeks. And I am tired of taking dark photos.  All the furniture in my house is dark.  So I have to turn on the lights which gives my photos that awful yellow haze, and no amount of Photoshop work will make it better.

Okay, enough complaining for me.  In lieu of cute Ellie photos, I'm uploading a video of her showing off how quickly she can make it across the living room.  Seriously, nothing is safe anymore!

 
going for the computer from David G on Vimeo.

four months

Dear Eleanor Jane,

You turned four months old on Easter Sunday.  You are now closer to five months old than four, but oh well, that's just life right now.  You're turning into such a little person.  Your eyes are the most beautiful cornflower blue, and they light up and sparkle when you smile.  You delight everyone around you, and you're just generally darling all-around.

As much as you have enchanted your daddy and me, I still have a hard time believing that I'm your mother.  Not that it's you, I would have a hard time believing I was anyone's mother.  I don't know why, but I just can't shake this feeling that I'm faking it.  That one day, someone is going to show up at our door and announce the fun's over, it's time for Ellie to go to a real mama.  It's just that moms are so...together.  So smart and responsible.  And I?  I am about 16.  I like to sleep in until 10.  I never turn my socks right-side-out.  I don't finish things. Frequently.  I still dream of being famous.  I want to eat cookies for breakfast. Every day.  I can't, for the life of me, keep the kitchen full of food.  No joke, I can leave the grocery store with a carload of groceries and return home to find there is nothing for dinner.  How is this even possible?

It's only been in the last month that I've come to terms, a bit, with all of this. Maybe that's why this month has flown by.  Because I'm working to embrace my imperfection.  Maybe even find joy in the freedom of it.  Because I've learned that an afternoon of snuggles and smiles is worth far more than a clean house. Long story short, I have no clue as to what I'm doing.  And, Ellie, I love you for not caring.  You don't care if the laundry is done, or the house is clean, or if we're eating pasta, again.  Thank you, my little one, for helping me see that I'm not perfect, but I am, indeed, blessed.

oh so soft

I'm not sure why, but it seems most hooded towels for babies are really thin and not so snuggly.  After nearly four months of warm baths followed by a rather cold wrap-up for the little one, I had had it.  After searching online, I found a fantastic plan on Prudent Baby for making my own hooded towels for Eleanor.  A few soft, white towels plus some leftover quilting fabric, and we had a cute new towel in no time at all.  Now bath time ends with a cozy, Daddy snuggle - just the way it should.