I Love You but You're Annoying

He looks so sweet, doesn't he?

And so he is... when he's sleeping.  The rest of the time he's a bit of a disgruntled customer.  Not to mention stubborn, opinionated and anal retentive. 

(He'll be a fine German man.)

Boys and their digestive systems!  Sheesh!

But we love him dearly.  Good thing for him he's so cute.

Since this is my third child his cries don't send me into transports of panic.  I cuddle him, kiss his silky little head and breath in his musky scent and wait patiently for the crying to stop.  And occasionally I just let him cry for a bit while I throw in a load of laundry.

With my girls I'm a bit less patient: Over the weekend K wrote a note saying how desperately bored she felt so I made her clean her room for an hour.

She hasn't been bored since.  ;-)

They've been wonderful, though.  L gives J his bottle and K reads to L and teaches her math.  Whoever invented big sisters was a genius.

Oh, hey, the baby's crying again.  Gotta run!

House Project - Pictures

We still need to hang a picture and real lights but you get the idea:

What is Down with Our Bad Selves?

I thought K was a big eater with her fierce feeds every two hours on the hour but J makes her look like a lightweight. I've never had a baby that eats so much! Mind you, I've also never had a baby that can pee on its own head so even a mother of three can learn something new.

Have I mentioned he's lovely?

Naturally we've chosen this time to do some major home construction in the living and dining rooms, including re-plastering the walls and hanging molding.

To make matters more hectic, we decided to go with a cheaper contractor, who announced he didn't feel comfortable hanging real clay molding after he'd already torn up the living room. So we had to go crawling back to the expensive guy and beg him to come while all our furniture was still under plastic.

He was actually quite nice about it, in a sardonic way. When Ralf poked his head in the shop he was greeted with: 'Your guy can't hang it, can he?'

Ralf admitted this was the case. He also expressed some doubts about the molding we'd chosen, as it looked awfully big for the room when we held it up.

'Scared of a little molding, huh?' the interior designer asked amiably.

'Actually, I'm scared of my wife,' retorted Ralf with dignity.

'Aren't we all?' (This, of course, was a reflexive question and didn't require an answer.)

Then he offered to divert two of his workmen to hang the molding, which was very decent of him, and the final painting is happening right now. . . only the first guy's doing that so it's been a crazy week of rotating workmen.

But it's almost done...

I'll try to post pictures next week.

It's Nature, Not Nurture

Now that I have three kids I feel entitled to say that their personalities come fully baked.

J, my baby, is up for anything as long as he is fed every hour.  I predict he will remain easy going and be a good eater.

L, my 5-year-old, is the same sweet mama's girl she's always been.  She's a little jealous of J but not one to carry a grudge.  The other day she walked to the store with me, 20 minutes both ways without a word of complaint.  When we got home she announced, 'I would never have let you go alone, mommy.  It's too cold!'

And K, my 7-year-old, is the same clever, opinionated being she ever was.  When I asked her if she wanted to walk with me to the store, her answer was short and to the point: 'No way. Too boring.'  It's exactly the sort of thing she would have said as a newborn if she could have talked.

Ah, I'm a lucky woman.

Love, Love, Love

The Big Unveiling

His name is.... Jonas!

Thank you everyone for your kind wishes. More pictures to follow.

Are You a Snort?

Our baby is here!  And we finally settled on a name, although we still haven't decided how to pronounce it. 

They say pride goeth before a fall.  And sure enough, after telling everyone who asked that of course I planned to have an epidural - how idiotic not to in this day and age - there turned out not to be enough time.

Yeah. Not fun.

He's a cute little guy, not that I'm biased or anything, although I have to say that changing girls is a bit easier...

The day he was born he looked right at me and got a very doubtful expression on his face, as if he wanted to say: "You are not my mother.  You are a snort!"

That's when I fell in love.

The Final Countdown

My son will be born in 3 weeks.

I've been reflecting on my many blessings this holiday season and as you can imagine, this unexpected little boy* figures pretty largely in them.

*Yes, I know how babies are made, I mean that I expected another girl. Girls are what I know.

And although I heartily dislike being pregnant and babies are disruptive to one's professional aspirations and other activities one might prefer to engage in, I am able to find comfort in the reflection that:

1. It's only for 3 more weeks.
2. His head will smell deliciously musky for the first several years.
3. He will probably become a rich and famous soccer player, who will not forget his mum.
4. He may not marry someone I thoroughly disapprove of.
5. My cleavage will never be this good again.

But as many of you know, theoretical future good and fabulous cleavage are cold comfort in the final weeks of pregnancy.  I'm uncomfortable and it would be quicker to tell you what parts of me don't ache than what parts of me do.

Sitting at my computer is also painful, which is why I haven't been around much lately.  I apologize for that.

I probably will not write again until after the baby is born and may not be able to give your blogs the attention they deserve in the meantime but I sincerely wish you all the best in this new year.

We totally deserve it.

Happy Holidays!

Happy holidays to all you wonderful bloggers who generously share my life while working, raising families and finding your way in the world. Together we are stronger.

Happy holidays to Renee, who has successfully lived without a roof over her head for years. I hope the new laptop will be useful in the new year and inspire you to new great things.

Happy holidays to my wonderful Grandma, who had such fun visiting Munich several Christmases ago and could still sing the Hansel and Gretal opera in German and (for some reason) the French national anthem.

Happy holidays to Laura, Emmanuelle and Abu, our three sponsored children in Africa and Bolivia. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas season and continue to do well in school next year.

Happy holidays to the amazing working moms I know and am proud to be friends with. (And all moms are working.)

Happy holidays to my two little girls, whose names mean 'Clarity of Purpose' and 'Enduring Light.' You are both perfectly named.

Happy holidays to my little man, who I can't wait to meet. Your name (after we considered hundreds of names, such as Dave, Gerhard, Logan, Hasso, etc.) means either 'Bringer of Peace' or 'Destroyer,' depending on whether one is feeling more Yiddish or Hebrew. I imagine there will be days when either name suits you, my darling boy.

Happy holidays to my fabulous husband, whose eyes light up with admiration and love when he looks at my perfectly round tummy and who makes up such amazing children's stories. He even liked his Land's End pajamas, although he fears the extreme softness of the flannel will make him weak.

(We finished our children's book and if anyone would like a copy leave a comment with an email address.)

Happy holidays!

No Dublin for Me This Year...

I'm fond of the Irish.  I mean, sure, I know some irritating Irish people but in general I like the way they talk, I like how they always bring a book of gloomy poetry as a housewarming gift and I appreciate the seriousness with which they regard breakfast.

I've liked people for far less.

That's why I'm rather bummed to miss the European office party in Dublin this year - I'm too big to fly - so Ralf will be partying, breakfasting, chatting up Rory and Fergus and touring the Guinness factory on his own this year.

It's not that I don't love having kids but next time I call dibs on being the dad...!

Homunculus Domesticus Americanus

Nothing says Christmas like online shopping so while Ralf was in California I ordered him some soft shearling slippers and a pair of monogrammed PJs from Land's End. 

Then I had a dilemma - you have 14 days to return items but it was more than 14 days to Christmas. 

I had no choice: I had to get him to try it all on.

First the PJs, which he stared at silently before observing glumly, 'It's monogrammed.  You can't send it back anyway.'

Good point.  I re-wrapped the PJs and pulled out the slippers, which he stared at even more silently.

'You don't like them?' I prompted.

'I, ah, wouldn't have picked them out for myself,' he admitted.  His eyes tracked longingly to his beloved tatty old house shoes.

'Why not?' I demanded.  'They're nice!'

'I'll look like a domesticated American man in those things,' he muttered. 

Well, he had a point.  A girl can dream, can't she?  I mean, if I can wear a Dirndl, he can suck it up and wear Land's End liesure wear.

But... long story short, I kept the PJs and sent the slippers back.  Baby steps.

While in California he received an iPad from our CEO in recognition of his hard work.  K and L were highly excited about this, since the iPad games include a farting cat.  They usually resent his long hours, but as soon as they understood that the iPad was his reward for said long hours L (5) shoved him toward his office and K (7) told him to try and earn us a Wii next time.

Oh, and a belated Happy Thanksgiving - heading into 9 months and my tummy's bigger than the turkey!

On Family

Sorry I've been quiet but what with being 8 months pregnant, working and getting ready for Christmas I've been kind of busy.  Oh, and being a single mom this week while Ralf's in California. 

I'm looking forward to a quiet family Christmas this year. I  have three stories to write up before the children's book I'm writing is finished and I have great plans for sewing extremely simple doll clothes over the next few weeks. 

Next weekend we'll procure and decorate the tree, listen to Nat King Cole and bake gingerbread cookies - and I can eat as many Christmas cookies as I want because let's face it, I'm not getting any thinner until at least February. 

I can even look out at the snow with a charitable eye because this morning my neighbor shoveled snow out of my driveway.  I tell you, once you've known them for about ten years, Germans turn into wonderful, loyal friends!

Little Beauregard is doing well, although I hope I'm not about to change that with the slightly past its prime chicken I'm baking right now.  Ralf read about how some woman had her baby at the Vienna Opera house and got a lifetime membership so now he wants me to start hanging at the Allianz arena.  Just in case.

K is acting in a Christmas production and needs an angel costume, a requirement that caused me some anxiety since the child has no white clothes except t-shirts.  And I'm not one of those moms that can sew a white dress and make glittery wings out of cardboard.

Yesterday she was absolutely frantic to knock next door and ask to borrow an angel dress.  When I asked her why she was in such a rush she turned haunted eyes to me and said: 'Last night I dreamed I had to perform in a white t-shirt and polka dot leggings!'

Which, to be fair, was an option I had been considering.  I congratulated her with a straight face on figuring out her own costume while chuckling to myself that she definitely knows her mum.

I guess family are the people who know you well and love you anyway.