Nights, Interrupted

Let's not talk about the nights, they've been active for all 3 of us, and anybody else who wakes up at the sound of The Dragon Boss' cries, the attending footsteps, or the clatter in the kitchen as we preapre a bottle, except to say they've been manageable and within expectations, especially considering TBD's parents have had extreme jet lag, too, waking up at 2am on our own each morning, the difference being we can recognize what's happening and why it is we're in an unfamiliar room.

Let's talk about the days, like cross-country skiing from Garmisch to Grainau to Obergrainau, all the while the Zugspitz appearing larger and larger, until we turned around and it got smaller and smaller.

Or the drive into Austria to ski Lermoos, still within sight of the Zugspitz, where Baleen kept up her consecutive streak of goulash lunches, two, going on three, in 20 cm of new snow.

Or the kilograms of pork and knudlen we've consumed on our first three nights, all of which TDB has shared with us from a high chair at the table, a new and welcome experience for the parents of a child with a 9:30pm bedtime. 9:30 to about 2:30am, that is.

Deutschland

We're here. Deutschland, that is, after 14 hours on 2 planes, the second of which was Lufthansa with meals that one likes to eat, and the bulkhead middle row of 4 adults, 3 babies and 7 pacifiers.

The contained space was tough for The Dragon Boss and his parents, not in the predictable way, that he was one of those babies who wouldn't stop crying from wheels up to wheels down, but like you've just pulled an all nighter preparing for a midterm, then slipped on the ice on the way out of the auditorium and been told by the doctor that you have to stay awake for the next 12 hours. TDB just didn't stop moving.

But we're here, TDB has his first stamp, we've gone straight from Munich to the mountains, and we're ready for the first night's challenge: baby jet lag.

Gute Fahrt

It sounds better when the French say it, Bon Voyage, but we're not going to Chamonix. It's Garmisch, or if you're from Germany, Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Try and spell that without looking.

It's held the Winter Olympics, back in 1936, and almost in 1940 before the IOC wisened up, and we intend to do some skiing there. A lot of it, in fact, as long as Marmee and Papa, already there and telling us how cold it is, don't mind babysitting while the sun's still up (and just before it rises if it's looking like a powder day).

But with the weather as cold as it is - and we can translate Celsuis to Fahrenheit, it's still cold - The Dragon Boss needed a little more protection. So we went back to Patagonia and 600 count goose down for the little guy. We promise not to make him wear it on the plane on Sunday, just almost every day thereafter.

The Bay

There's a lot of evenings at home now with The Dragon Boss, but if you want to meet for an early breakfast, say around 7am, we'll be there. Our Saturday social schedule has moved up about 5 hours. No more brunches at noon.

And when the weather's nice, especially when it isn't supposed to be, like in mid-December, and just after it's been bad, we'll be out. It's for Baleen and me, really, as TDB might just like to stay home and crawl on anything in sight, but we need a little sunshine and something more to do than see what's on Hulu.

Plus, Cooper said he wanted to see TDB and we hadn't been to the Marina in ages and when we were last there, we certainly hadn't gotten a picture on a day like this.

Commuter's Choice

There's a new twist to my evening commute home. Where I used to turn off Market onto Valencia from the left of the three lanes, jumping across two lanes of traffic with all the other bikers, the city has put in a turn lane and a light just for bikers.

There's a catch though. To make a left you've got to make a right as it's a jug-handle turn, as Dario's dad and anybody esle from New Jersey who's driven down Route 1 trying to make a left hand turn will know.

The other catch is that it takes longer, first by waiting out the light at Valencia in the bike lane and then becuase by waiting all but a juiced Lance are forced to miss the timed light at Duboce. But to get home to TBD and Baleen, I'll trade safety over 60 more seconds any day.

Rain

It's raining in the city, bringing with it all that that means, like snow in Tahoe, caution before surfing or swimming in the Bay with all the run-off - not that I've been in a few months - and the detritus that washes down city streets.

Up in the Haight it's probably needles and Ben and Jerry napkins, down in the Marina it's Starbucks cups and Clif Bar wrappers, in the Mission it's cigarettes and iPod shuffles, but in the Mission suburbs, in the southeast shadow of Sutro Tower, it's what children leave behind.

Patagonia

It took me 32 years to get my third piece of Patagonia clothing, including that above the ankle pair of wool hiking socks; it's taken The Dragon Boss 9 months.

After all, we do live in the Mission suburbs where it's almost a uniform for the neighborhood tots. Plus, Baleen does most of the procuring, with plenty of help from grandparents and other relatives so his early start is no surprise.

It's irrational, I know, especially as the longevity argument doesn't work. TDB will never, ever, ever wear it out, thus allowing us to send it down to Ventura for a free replacement before he grows out of it, but he does look darn good in it so I'm sure the fourth isn't too far away.

1st Holiday Party

The abundance of firsts are coming to an end as The Dragon Boss comes within sight of a year. This weekend's first was his first holiday party at the home of the Kiwi and the local, our Mission suburb neighbors.

TDB got all dressed up in his holiday gear, which is the first fancy dress (as in attire, not dress like a girl or that thing he wore at Easter) that I like. You'll see it again, or at least some San Franciscans will because in our holiday circuit, we'll be seeing some of you again (and again). This isn't jury duty or the DMV.

While it would have been nice to stay out a bit later, have a few more drinks and walk home in a roundabout way, having TDB with us, I think, introduced us to more people than we might otherwise have met as everybody likes talking to a baby, especially when he's so well behaved and the only one there.

November

It got busy in November. Let's recount. The Dragon Boss learned how to crawl, looking a lot like a picture of evolution with his right leg propelling him up and out of the water and the house now reflects it with corners protected, outlets plugged, and the stairs barricaded which means that he's lost weight moving about while his parents have gained a pound or two sitting around watching him which is definitely not what happened on the Thanksgiving flight to Houston to stay at Uncle Margarine and Aunt Wizzie's new house where he never stopped crawling the entire flight and the entire time in Houston, unlike his mom who developed an unsightly and unfriendly abcess - I've become adept at spelling that word - in the back of her throat that required two visits to the ER for drainage, the second requiring the expertise of an ENT specialist while TDB and I walked to Courtney's for their 50c coffee and peanut butter, jelly and sliced strawberry sandwiches which TBD tried to eat now that he has two teeth, but I kept from him, worried about the old dog and peanut butter stories and how we already had one family member under medical care.

TDB's hosts for Thanksgiving

Reading, TDB is definitely reading

Spying on Uncle Margarine's neighbors

Papa spies an investment property

Teeth!

Let me crawl!

Protected corners

TDB develops self-sufficiency (out of necessity)

More than just pureed foods

Cutting teeth

What happens when Baleen visits Houston

Crawling

The Dragon Boss will not sit still. It'll be 18 years, at least, before I look him in the eye, but another year before I get off my knees because the little guy is mobile.

Our city apartment looks larger than it is from six inches off the ground, yet there are only five rooms, but in those five rooms are countless dangers. Sliding doors that can close on fingers, a step from the back of the kitchen to the patio, glass coffee tables with hard right angles, a hard fireplace mantle, the kind that put that scar on Uncle Margarine's forehead, and worst of all, a series of steps.

So we're off to the internet, the place we spend most our time learning about what's to come when we're not experiencing what's right now, to order protective devices: styrofoam for the angles, plugs for the electrical outlets, and a good gate for those stairs. But what we'll really be doing is crawling around the ground, making sure TDB doesn't find all those dangers that I haven't listed here.