We heart Amsterdam

Vacations remind you how to be alive.  They transform bedtime from a moment you spend all day waiting for into a formality that stands between you and another beautiful morning.  They license you to eat a heaping piece of apple pie after lunch, sip an afternoon beer outside, and consume as much creamy cheese and crusty bread as your expanding tummy can handle.  They nudge you to walk a little slower, linger a little longer, and remember that the means can also be an end.  Vacations are just the best, and I'm so sad this one's over.

Simply put, Amsterdam was wonderful.  Hoping to be included on future trips -- and sensing the potential for future banishment to the grandparents' house while Mommy and Daddy travel -- Owen was a total champ.  He slept or played quietly during the long flights, flirted shamelessly with any pretty lady who'd make eye contact with him, took long on-the-go naps in his stroller, and happily gummed baguettes and gouda while we restaurant-hopped around the city.  And best of all, thanks to the time change, he went to sleep around 11:00 each night and slept until at least 10:00 every single morning.  

Um, can I please emphasize this point?

Aaron and I got 10+ hours of sleep every night for seven days.  Over 70 hours of sleep in one single week.  At home, it can take twice as long to accrue that kind of rest.  And I can't even remember the last time I woke up to a clock that led with a double-digit number.  Central European Time Zone, I think I'm in love with you.  

Owen's suitcase > Owen's body

People-watching from the hotel room

After a lovely dinner at a great little restaurant, Owen is still going strong at 10:30PM.  Thank you, Central European Time Zone.

Travel requires flexibility, which means an occasional (baby) lunch on the side of the street

Daddy staring lovingly at Owen.  Owen staring lovingly at the three blondes one table over.

My guys

 Taking a break in the hotel courtyard while Owen naps in the Mobile Operations Center 

It didn't take long for Owen to figure out how to overtake the Nap-Inducing Stimulation Blocker (aka Aaron's jacket) and stroll only on his own terms.

Owen loves to scream in places that echo.  This church echoed.  It was also pretty much silent.  Until Owen realized that he could scream.  And then we realized we had to find an exit.  Fast.

Joy.

Setting Expectations

If there's one aspect of motherhood I've mastered, it's setting my expectations low.  Like, if-you-accomplish-nothing-other-than-keeping-Owen-fed-and-relatively-clean-from-6:00AM-to-8:00PM-you-are-a-freaking-superwoman kind of low.  How sweetly you can be surprised when you're expecting nothing at all.  Really, it's all about perspective.  An example:

A Sample To-Do List Pre-Owen

1. Visit farmer's market for fresh, local produce
2. Do hot yoga and find inner soul
3. Read the latest Economist, cover to cover (and don't skip the UK section)
4. Save the world

A Sample To-Do List Post-Owen

1. Wake up 
2. Place left foot on floor
3. Place right foot on floor
4. Warm bottle
5. Change poopy diaper
6. Feed baby
7. Put baby down for nap
8. Turn shower on
9. Shampoo hair
10. Condition hair
11. Rinse
12. Put on clothes

See what I just did there?  THREE times as many tasks accomplished.  Just imagine the satisfaction from crossing twelve items off your list.  And if I happen to find myself near a grocery store, maybe -- and just maybe -- I'll pop in for some waning, foreign produce and practice yogic breathing as try to lug baby/stroller/diaper bag/groceries up to our second-floor apartment.  (Obviously, I would then retroactively add all of those things -- in as much minute detail as possible -- to my to-do list.)  Whew!  Look at all that accomplishment!  You deserve a glass of wine and thirty minutes of trashy reality TV.

So it's with these new low expectations that we're setting off for a little family adventure:  on Tuesday, we're headed to Amsterdam for a week.  With an 8-month-old.  On a 7 hour flight.  In our laps.  

WOOHOO!!!!!  I can't wait.
(I'm being serious.)

You can laugh at and with me -- and please feel free to throw in some Told Ya So's when it's all over-- but I'm thinking this is going to be fun.  Yes, as I look down at my list of things to pack for Owen (baby wash, diaper cream...nighttime diapers, daytime diapers...sleep sacks, sun hats...2 baby food jars/meal x 3 meals/day x 8 days = a hell of a lotta baby food), I wonder if maybe this was a crazy plan.  Owen might spend the whole flight screaming.  Teeth are threatening to sprout up any day now.  The time change could throw his whole schedule into a tailspin.  We might all get the Ebola virus from eating infected monkey meat and die a swift and painful death.  Ahh yes, lots of things could go wrong in the next two weeks.

But you only live once (and babies only travel free for two years), so why not?  Worse comes to worse, we'll make a plane's worth of enemies and not sleep for 7 hours; we won't ever leave our hotel room (just like home, but with a maid) and be forced to spend a week bonding together as a family.  But if things go well, maybe we'll spend some time walking by charming canals or wandering through the Van Gogh museum or taking meandering bike rides to nowhere.  Either way, I'm excited.

Back in Action

I spent the better part of the last month writing final papers for class.  I submitted the last one on Friday, which means two things:  1) I officially survived my first semester in the dual (dueling?) roles of mommy and grad student, and 2) I'm ready to start writing on some...hmm...more fun topics.  So exit words like "thereby" and "whereas" and "thusly"; enter "baby proofing" and "finger foods" and "drool."  Here we are -- back in action -- at least until classes start back in the Fall.  Or Owen starts walking.  Whichever kills my limited free time first.

If only the world included a few giants who'd bounce us on their heads, do you think we could all have a daily belly laugh like that?

Funny how the walker wagon went from fun-entertainment-for-mom-and-dad to lethal-home-destroyer once Owen figured out how to use it on his own

An area we affectionately call "The Cage."  Owen enjoyed his first few bouts in captivity, but was less than enthused when he figured out the bars weren't just there to help him stand up.

Daddy and Owen as babies

Accidents Waiting to Happen

In the last six weeks, our apartment has gone from cozy home to crazy collection of accidents-waiting-to-happen.  Owen's sustained interest in electrical outlets, dirty shoes, metal coffee table legs, and ashy fireplaces never ceases to amaze me; I only dream of applying that kind of persistence and determination to my work (ah-hem, writing my final term papers instead of this blog post).  He seems to keep a mental map with the exact location of every off-limits item in the house, making a mischievous beeline for the sharp corners of the TV stand or the cord to his white noise machine as soon as he's placed on the ground.  He confidently pulls himself up to standing and overconfidently tries to go hands-free, seeming blissfully ignorant of the fact that he doesn't yet know how to walk and landing frequently with a thump on his bum.  Everything seems to go instantaneously into his toothless little mouth -- with the notable exception of non-pureed foods, which he finds utterly repulsive (go figure).  It's a wild world out there, and little O is determined to to take it all in, one slobbery mouthful at a time.

Month 6 vs. Month 7 - Trying to crawl off the couch versus trying to climb back onto the couch

With Great-Grandma Fisher

Owen and Great-Grandparents Barasz

Easter/Passover with Grandma and Grandpa Barasz

Grandma Fisher

The End of Immobility

Gone are the days when Owen would sit semi-serenely and stare at his surroundings. Now he's on the move and there's no stopping him. Whether it's a proper four-legged crawl or some version of "The Worm," he's a busy boy these days. And why bother with toys when you could eat shoes or unplug internet routers or try to get into the dirty diaper pail? Oh, the fun is just beginning, I'm afraid...

5 months (sitting sweetly for mommy) vs. 6 months (trying to crawl off the couch)

Morning snuggles in Mom and Dad's bed

Yoga baby

A little camera trickery :)

Month 5 Pictures

Month 4 vs. Month 5

Biggest development: Owen has freed himself from the confines of the couch corner and can now sit up all by himself

Grandpa Fisher is way more excited by those peas than Owen

Cuddle time with Grandma Barasz

It was a valiant fight, but the oatmeal won.

Super Bowl Sunday in FL for Daddy's 30th

Progressively growing happier about mealtime

Happy sitter

First Solid(ish) Food

We gave Owen his first solid food last weekend, and what an adventure it has already been. The boy loves to put everything else in his mouth, so food should be a breeze, right? Ha. What Beginner Mom naiveté that was.

Food #1: rice cereal. As it turns out, it tastes suspiciously like macerated Communion wafers. Non-starter. That food trial was halted after only four rounds. Okay fine. On to the next round.

Food #2: carrots. After Owen went to bed last night, I spent my precious quiet evening moments peeling, chopping, boiling, pureeing, portioning, and freezing four pounds of organic carrots. All the while I'm thinking, "Man, I can't wait until his breakfast tomorrow! He's going to freaking love me for this."

So morning comes and I'm all jazzed up for the orange goo that's about to coat my body and tickle the taste buds of my little nugget. I gave him some serious pep talks while I was prepping for the big meal: "Now listen, O, these are going to be the BEST carrots you've EVER had." And, necessarily, that would have to be true.

But instead of getting to watch his first look of delight at real live food, I got to watch his first full body shudder. Like a full-on eyes closed, frowny mouth, body convulsing, carrot expelling shudder. Hmm. Not exactly what I was looking for.

So a few lessons learned:

• Don't start with four pounds of an untested food
• I'm sensing a looming uphill battle for broccoli
• When life gives you rejected carrot puree, make carrot cake. (Good tip, Mom)

Furrowing brow: the first symptom of Carrot Rejection

And then it's over. Carrot Experience #1: Fail.

Smiley boy before his delicious rice cereal

Learning to eat is simply not a clean adventure.