The 9 Days of Thanksgiving (or The 8 Days of Sickness)

A while back, Chris decided that he would take the entire week of Thanksgiving off of work. I have been looking forward to it for quite a while. Nine whole days of having Chris around and getting lots of things done that we've been talking about for ages. Of course we tried to cram as many activities and chores as possible into those nine days, and our to-do list still has a few items yet to be crossed off, but we had a great week together as a family (if you ignore the hacking/no sleeping/sore throats/grumpiness/lack of energy/general malaise that we experienced for most of those days. And also, if you have any idea who might have given us this awful illness we've been suffering from, please point me in that person's direction. I'd like to have a couple of words with them.)

On Monday we started the week off with a bang by driving to Columbia for Max's first trip to the Riverbanks Zoo. It was an absolutely gorgeous day; I'll take 80 in November any day, thank you. (Although, I do have my suspicions that the constant wildly swinging temperature changes didn't do us any favors when it came to our illness.)

Max made friends with lots of animals at the Zoo:

But meeting the giraffe was definitely the highlight of the trip. Max has been very interested in giraffes for a while now, so feeding this sweet guy (or girl?) was a special treat. Ok, yes, I was probably more excited than he was.

Get a load of that tongue!!!

The gorilla was also incredible. I could have watched him all day. I did convince Chris to make a second visit to the gorilla viewing area before we left.

In fact, we spent so much time watching the gorilla that Max was able to perfect his gorilla impression:



Sadly, we had saved my favorite animal for last, which unfortunately coincided with naptime/meltdown time. Come on, Max, look at the penguins!!

Maximilian "Penguine" fleeing from the penguins:

I'm so glad we spent the day outside, enjoying the weather and the animals!

On Tuesday we had to stay close to home since we had Max's checkup. But on Wednesday, we were on the road again, this time to Atlanta to get my little German/American his German passport. Wednesday may or may not have been a most horrendous day to travel up and down I-85, but that is neither here nor there because that is the day that we were given an appointment at the German Embassy. I had fully intended to get some pictures of Max entering the Embassy or afterwards outside the Embassy to commemorate the momentous occasion of his first passport, but when we got out of the car and it was so windy I thought we were in Chicago and so cold I thought we were in Chicago I totally forgot about the pictures. Also, the "German Embassy" was a major letdown. When you think of an Embassy, don't you picture a large and regal building with lots of flags flying out front and important looking people prancing about? I do. However, the German Embassy consisted of a smallish room in a large office building with a rather lackadaisical security guard and generic waiting room a la the Social Security office. It was all rather anti-climactic. But, we should have Max's passport in hand within a few weeks and he will be free to travel the world as a German. (including trips to Cuba, which Chris keeps threatening to take him on without me)

We had toyed with the idea of visiting the Georgia Aquarium while we were in Atlanta, but since we had just been to the zoo, we decided to go to another well-known Atlanta institution instead: IKEA. We weren't really looking for anything in particular, which always makes for the most dangerous trips. Before shopping, we of course had to dine at the IKEA cafe. Chris had some of their famous Swedish meatballs. Max wasn't overly excited about them. After all, he eats meatballs several times a week at home. Oh well.

We didn't make any major purchases (and it's a good thing because we were traveling in the Beemer), but we did collect some fun toys for a certain little someone for Christmas. Then we hit the road for our ever-so-fun drive home in the day-before-Thanksgiving traffic. This year we were thankful to make it home from Atlanta. It wasn't the best drive ever.

The next day was Thanksgiving, a day on which we can sit around and express our thanks for having plenty by being huge gluttonous pigs. I started off the morning bright and early by joining Julie on our second annual Thanksgiving We-Are-Thankful-For-Free-Stuff shopping trip to CVS. We waited outside the doors before they opened like crazy people, but at least there was no shoving or pepper-spraying to get in the doors. There were about 5 or so other hard-core shoppers there at opening too, but we were able to get all of our free stuff and thus the day started on a high note :)

This year was a (relatively) quiet year at Mom and Dad's with only 6 adults and Max in attendance. Mom, of course, had prepared enough food to feed at least twice that many people...but, again, that's Thanksgiving. As has become tradition apparently, Chris prepared to fry the turkey (graciously provided by Olympia via her job - sweet!) and the ever-so-traditional side dish on Thanksgiving....onion rings. Hey, what else are you gonna do with this huge vat of oil? It's a shame to let it go to waste without frying something else yummy. Chris had had a hankering to do some onion rings for a while now, ever since someone started extolling the virtues of the most-excellent onion rings that Mema always used to make. So, Eddy family recipe in hand, he embarked on his first-ever onion ring frying adventure. The results: divine.

So, we settled in to eat our feast. I think it's a well-established fact that Paulie loves his mashed potatoes and gravy. You might even call him a connoisseur. As he tore into his serving, however, he had a small complaint. "This gravy tastes sweet. What's wrong with it?" Mom hemmed and hawed and declared that she made it like she always does and had no idea what could be wrong with it. Finally he convinced her to taste it herself. She agreed; it did taste oddly sweet. (It's worth noting here that I also had some mashed potatoes and gravy and did not notice anything out of the ordinary about the gravy. I also had the beginnings of my illness and clearly my taste buds were suffering.) Nothing much more was said about it, but Paulie did not eat his mashed potatoes.

After lunch, as I was helping Mom clean up by washing dishes, she dumped the remaining gravy from the pot into the sink. I continued washing and rinsing the dishes but soon noticed that the sink was not draining, so I turned on the disposal. I then noticed that there were some "chunks" stuck around the drain that I was going to have to help along into the disposal. Now, my eyesight is not the best so when I thought the unidentified chunks looked like bananas, I had to lean in close to take a second look. Yep, indeed there were bananas clogging the drain. "Mom," I asked incredulously, "why are there bananas in the sink? Where did they come from?" As  soon as the question was out of my mouth, we both heard the lightbulb go off in our heads and Mom said, hesitantly, "I think I know what happened to the gravy". About 5 minutes of laughter ensued. I haven't laughed that hard in a long long time; my stomach was cramping up. When we were able to talk normally again, Mom explained her "faux pas"...she had some leftover banana pudding in the fridge in a tupperware container. When she pulled out the gravy she had made (also in tupperware containers) she assumed that the banana pudding was also gravy and dumped it in the pot. Now, there are still several mysteries remaining here including a)how she did not notice as she was dumping the banana pudding into the gravy that it wasn't gravy b)how nobody noticed any chunks of bananas in their gravy and c)why Mom is cursed when it comes to banana pudding (last year on Thanksgiving she inadvertently baked a large tray of pre-prepared banana pudding). Hey, banana pudding in altered forms: it's a Thanksgiving tradition.

Max enjoyed Thanksgiving, much as he enjoys every day. I sure am Thankful for this little turkey though. I'm also thankful for a big and healthy family, plenty to eat, and sunny days in November.

Watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade with Mimi.

The rest of the weekend passed by in a blur of hacking, cough drop consuming (thank goodness I got those free at CVS), complaining, whining, and Clemson-football losing (let's not talk about it). But no good Southern holiday is complete without a little bit of this:

Perhaps next year we'll just shoot our own turkey.

15 Months Old.

Max was actually 15 months old last Friday, and today we took him for his 15 month check-up. He was such a good boy; hamming it up with the doctor and being so brave for his shots. He got 2 in one leg and one in the other and he did cry, but the tears dried up as soon as Daddy picked him up, and he even forgave the mean nurse when she brought him some toys.

Before the doctor came in, the nurse took the standard measurements of weight and length. I'm not sure what happened when she measured him, but she came up with only about a 1/4" growth from his check-up 3 months ago. Based on how short the pants are now that he wore 3 months ago, we were sure she had made a mistake. Chris therefore measured Max himself when the nurse left the room, and then made the doctor do so when he came in. Turns out, she was off by 2"!!! That's a ton in the world of a 15 month old...we would have gone home being sad that my short genes were already asserting themselves, but instead we can delude ourselves a little bit longer into believing that we're going to have a tall kid :)

So, his stats are as follows:

Height: 32", which is 78.5% (yay!)

Weight: 23 lbs 7 oz, which is 60%

Basically, he's perfect. But we already knew that.

What Max loves at 15 Months:

• Books! He had no interest in being read to up until about a month ago, and now suddenly he wants to have every book in the house read to him multiple times per day. He does have his favorites, too. He loves this book about a dog named Nubs who was befriended by an American marine in Afghanistan and then adopted and brought to the US. It's not a kids book per se, but I think Max loves it because of the pictures of the dogs. He also dearly loves this German kids' book about different vehicles (police car, fire truck, ditch diggers, trash truck, etc) as well as the book his Omi and OpiLu gave him with, again, animals in it. "That's Not My Train" (given to Max by Aunt Les and Uncle Ben) is another favorite, and he will point out the mouse on every page before he will feel the "touch and feel" item on each page. Oh, and he also adores "Counting Peas", which is a book about two rabbits named Max and Ruby.
• Animals - as stated above, he loves his animals. This makes me indescribably happy. He loves to give Bailey hugs and kisses throughout the day and I'm proud that some of his first words are "fish" and "duck". Actually, besides "uh oh", the very first thing he ever "said" was "baack baack" in response to "what does a chicken say?" I'm pretty much ecstatic about the fact that my little guy already loves trips to the zoo and will happily stand and look at the same animal for quite a while. (longer than his Dad in fact)
• Milk. The kid is obsessed with milk. He would drink it exclusively instead of eating if given the opportunity.
• Music. He had a big time at Best Buy today, operating the speaker display. He kept turning the volume way up and dancing. He also tried to boogie at lunch today when the restaurant sound system played "Can't Touch This" by MC Hammer.
• Brushing his teeth. Anytime you mention teeth, in fact, he imitates brushing. He gets really excited to go brush his teeth each night and has the whole routine down - put the water on, put the toothpaste on, brush. He would just repeat the process all night long if you'd let him.
• Water. He's crazy about water, any kind of water whatsoever. He refuses to stay away from Bailey's water bowl, no matter how many times we reprimand him. And he has been caught trying to go for a swim in the toilet. I guess someone's getting swimming lessons next summer.
• Giving hugs. Chris thinks we need to teach him not to hug so much but I couldn't disagree more. I think it's the cutest/sweetest thing and I love that my boy is so loving. He hugs Bailey, us, his cousins, strange ladies at Nana's funeral, and even a stranger at the zoo yesterday. I know there will be a day when he refuses to give anyone a hug, so there's no way I'm going to discourage it now.

What Max dislikes at 15 Months:

• Being told no or reprimanded in any way. I think he gets this from me, but Max gets terribly offended/feelings hurt when you fuss at him. He gets the saddest look on his face and then cries. I guess it's good, because I think he understands that he's in "trouble" but it breaks my heart every time.
• Having his diaper changed/getting dressed. Doesn't every kid want to be a nudist? I know Sam and Nathanael do. But Max is like a bucking bronco when I try to dress him or change his diaper. It's totally exhausting.
• Most food. He's really been going through a phase where I have no idea what to feed him. His favorite on Monday might be his most hated food on Tuesday. It's so frustrating, but based on his weight and the doctor's observations, he's getting what he needs.
• Being patient/waiting. The kid has the patience of a gnat. I can't figure out where he gets that from.
• When his aquarium doesn't work. He has this "aquarium" that hangs on his crib that makes water sounds and has "fish" swimming by and a light. When he wakes up in the night, he turns on his aquarium and his musical seahorse and then he falls back asleep. But man, does he go through the batteries with that aquarium. I change them out about every 2 weeks. So some nights, when the batteries are about to die, the aquarium will turn on but then turns itself back off in a couple of  minutes (versus the 15 or so it normally runs before turning itself off). Max does not appreciate this, and many times in the middle of the night I have heard him pouding on the aquarium with increasing vigor as it cuts off before he has fallen back asleep.

Max has really developed quite the personality now, and he honestly makes me laugh all day long (in between the times when he is making me pull my hair out). Not a day goes by that I don't ask myself how we got so lucky in having such a great kid. Each morning I wonder what he's going to do to impress me or make me laugh and he hasn't let me down yet.

I Remember.

Just 4 short years ago I was blessed to have all 4 of my grandparents in attendance at my wedding. Luckily, I actually did appreciate it at the time and truly did realize how lucky and rare that was. In the past 18 months, I've lost 3 of those very special people. Grandaddy passed away in April 2010, Papa Bob on October 25, 2011, and Nana just yesterday, November 12. Grandaddy just missed Max's birth by a few months. I'm so sad that Max never got a chance to meet him, but he'll always be one of Grandaddy's namesakes since we gave him Allen as his middle name in honor of Grandaddy. Even though Max won't remember Nana or Papa Bob, I am thankful that they both lived long enough to see him and I think that the times that they were around Max in their final year gave them some moments of happiness. As for Mema, I'm pretty sure that Max will have lots of memories of his great-grandmother, because she's not going anywhere anytime soon!

I've been thinking a lot over the past few weeks about the three grandparents I've recently lost. It's amazing (and wonderful) how once you lose someone, the memories come flooding back. I'm so thankful that I was able to spend so much time with my grandparents growing up, and that I have so many special memories of them. These are some things that I hope I will always remember:

Grandaddy:

Grandaddy with granddaughter Brittany at my wedding on 8/4/07

• I literally remember Grandaddy bouncing me on his knee when I was little. He played an aggressive game of "this little horsey went to town...this little horsey fell down" and I loved it. I think it was especially fun because of his knobby knees. Max also loves an aggressive bounce...maybe he did get this from me.
• I don't know how many years we actually did this, and I must have been really small, but I remember at Christmas-time we would load up in a trailer on the back of Grandaddy's tractor and he would pull us into the woods at his house and we would chop down a tree to use as our Christmas tree. This always seemed like such a big adventure and Grandaddy always took his tractor driving very seriously.
• Grandaddy had the corniest sense of humor on earth. Most of his jokes were only remotely funny, but he never stopped telling them, and he was always smiling. I think whether the joke was funny was actually beside the point. His favorite was probably his "tax shelter" joke - he would pull out this little wooden doo-dad he had made; it was a little arch of wood with a pair of thumb tacks underneath. Grandaddy would ask someone/anyone "Any idea what this is?" and if you didn't know (or pretended not to, even though he had already told you this joke a million times) he would answer "It's a tax shelter!" and respond with a huge laugh and a slap of his knee. You kind of couldn't help but to laugh along, even though it wasn't that funny.
• Some of the only times I saw Grandaddy serious were when he played his organ. I remember watching him sit at his organ with his back ramrod straight playing hymn after hymn - he almost went into a trance as he played. But when I was little, he was never too busy to stop playing when I entered the room. He would let me sit beside him on his organ bench and he would entertain me with the different things his organ could do. I loved it.
• Grandaddy spent hours upon hours out in his woodshop. Literally every time I saw him, he would whip some little toy or doodad he had made out of his pocket or out of a drawer and ask "do you have one of these?" to which I would always say "no", even if I did...I probably have 100 different toys and ornaments that Grandaddy made over the  years. I'm so happy to be able to hang ornaments that he made on my Christmas tree and I'm even happier that Max has a couple of wooden roll toys that Grandaddy made.
• When I learned to drive, Grandaddy was ready to help. I can't even remember where this car came from, but one day Grandaddy showed up for my driving lesson with this very old, very beige Comet. We had to heave and pull to get the old bench seat to move up far enough for me to reach the pedals. There was no power steering, and the steering wheel was boat-wheel sized. It literally took all my strength to turn the thing. It was summertime, and when we turned the air conditioning on (I can't believe it even had it), a bunch of brown and crunchy leaves shot out at our faces. But all that aside, Grandaddy was the most patient teacher imaginable. He never got overly excited and remained super calm even in the face of an unsure teenage driver.
• I'm really happy that Grandaddy was able to meet and get to know Chris a little bit in his last years. I think Grandaddy felt a connection to Chris since Chris is German and Grandaddy served in WWII in Germany. He loved to tell Chris the same story everytime he saw him of how a German woman threw out her dirty washwater just as Grandaddy was walking by her house and it got all over him. She was so scared that this American soldier was going to do something to her in retaliation. If only she had known that she couldn't have thrown that water out on a kinder soldier or one less likely to hurt her. Grandaddy always tried to regale Chris with his German language skills. I don't think I will EVER hear "Was ist los?" for the rest of my life without thinking about Grandaddy.

Nana:

• Some of my earliest memories of Nana involve her clothesline. I remember standing beside her in her musty basement as she loaded up her old rusty wagon with her basket of laundry and her plastic milk jug with the top cut off and full of wooden clothes pins. I used to love to run through the dry sheets as they hung on the lines and she always let me hand her the clothes pins as she hung up her wet clothes. That is so Little House on the Prarie, but it makes me smile to remember summer mornings with Nana and her clothes line.
• I went to kindergarten at Bethel Elementary, where Nana was the school librarian. Frequently after my morning kindergarten was over, I would spend some time in the library either waiting for Mom to pick me up or maybe waiting for Nana to take me home. I loved Nana's little office in the back, where she would set me up at a table with scrap paper (she always had tons of scrap paper!) and colored pencils. I distinctly remember one time having to sit back there with another little boy - Nana had sent him back there to sit because he was misbehaving in the library. As Nana settled me in with my paper and colored pencils she turned to that boy and admonished him "If you mess with her, you are going to have to deal with me when I get back". Nana was always a fiesty little thing!
• When Paul and Ben and I were little it seemed we were always spending days at Nana's and Grandaddy's during the summer. Nana might not have been a gourmet cook, but we sure did love her staple meal she would make for us: chicken, rice, and green beans (which we always called newspapers). There may have been one other item but I can't recall. What I do recall is the little blue bowls she used to serve the food to us in and how small those portions were. But Nana wasn't stingy, just frugal. She didn't want us wasting any of the food so she gave us small servings, but many servings. The three of us would compete to see who could eat the most bowls, and for whatever reason we would start off with bowl #1 by saying that we were in "kindergarten" and proceeding upwards with each bowl - whoever got to the higest "grade" would win our eating competition. I can't remember who most frequently won, but I can close my eyes and see the exact pattern in Nana's formica countertops, feel the hard wood of her bar stools under my bottom, smell the rice and green beans, see Nana standing on the other side of the counter ready to dole out refills, and feel my tummy getting stuffed as I tried to keep up with the very hungry boys.
• Nana spent a lot of time when I was little trying to teach me to sew. But just like my fruitless piano lessons, I never really caught on. When I went to my first prom, though, Nana made my prom dress. I have no idea how many hours she must have spent on that dress...it was 100% sequins. I didn't fully appreciate it at the time, but that was quite a time investment she made in me. She had me try it on constantly. She wanted it to be exactly the way I wanted it. And it was. I loved it. It would be considered a purple monstrosity today, but for me and for then it was perfect. Years later when Nana was really starting to slow down she found some leftover sequins from that dress and she spent (again) I don't know how long poking those sequins with her arthritic fingers into a foam ball for me.
• Nana got to spend a lot of time with Max. Although I'm not sure she always (or ever) knew how he was connected to her, I'm so glad that he was able to make her happy. Definitely some of her last smiles that I saw were in response to him.

Papa Bob:

• Some of my earliest memories of PapaBob are from the lake. He was really in his element there - he loved it so much. I remember one particular trip when I had been allowed to bring a friend, Nicole. We must have been 7 or 8. We were on PapaBob's boat and PapaBob, always a jokester, was trying to make us believe that we could make the boat's horn blow by touching a particular piece of wood detailing inside the boat. However, it only seemed to work when Nicole touched it. No matter how many times I touched that piece of wood, the horn would never blow...but if Nicole so much as grazed it with her pinky finger it did. I got so frustrated, maybe even cried. But finally, just when I was about to lose it, the horn started to blow when I touched the piece of wood. I was so happy. That is the epitome of PapaBob right there. A prankster through and through.
• PapaBob made up a monster/forest wanderer/woodland creature? called the "Bonuddy" and he loved to scared the grandkids by sneaking out of the house and making strange sounds at the windows and then blaming it on the Bonuddies. He even had some type of animal call horn thingy that he used to use to make us think the Bonuddies were outside making noises. I don't think it was his intention, but I guarantee that none of us would have been wandering around outside at night for fear of a Bonuddy getting us!
• He always, and I mean ALWAYS had Tums in his pocket when I was little. I remember sitting on his lap and trying to sneak them out of his pocket. I thought they were candy. I still remember that chalky taste on my tongue and begging him for more after he had relented the first time.
• PapaBob was a religious watcher of The Price is Right. I'm not sure he missed a show for 20 or 30 years. I always loved staying at their house if I was sick and got to stay home from school. Mema would make me lunch and PapaBob and I would sit in his recliner and watch Bob Barker and his beauties.
• There are two things that I can still hear PapaBob say clear as a bell. If I ever tripped, or dropped something, or just did something clutzy or stupid, PapaBob could always be counted on to laugh and say "How's it going Ra?" sometimes followed by a "Hello!" I can still hear the exact tone of voice he used and see his big grin.
• PapaBob LOVED his dogs, Booger and, well Booger the 2nd. I can picture him sitting in his recliner slipping Booger 2 a piece of whatever he was eating and then petting her on the head. For such a "gruff" guy he was always tender with his "girls". He even spoke in a gentler tone to the dogs....I daresay it was almost baby talk!
• Every time I left the house, PapaBob and Mema would walk me out to the car. PapaBob could always be counted on for a sideways hug and a "Be a good little boy" as you got into the car. And then he would stand at the top of the driveway and wave until you were gone.
• PapaBob loved Max. Just like with Nana, I don't think he understood the connection of Max to himself, but he would tell me over and over again how cute Max was and how children were such miracles. I'm so grateful that PapaBob was able to attend Max's 1st birthday just 2 months before he died.

Although the past year and a half has left me with 3 less grandparents, it has also left me with a heck of a lot of appreciation for the 34 solid years I had with 4 wonderful grandparents in my life. 

Take a hike!

On Chris's last trip to Germany, a coworker gave him this awesome baby carrier for hiking. We couldn't wait to try it out; in our pre-baby days we used to enjoy a hike on a nice fall day and today looked like it would be a perfect day to take that baby for a test-hike. We didn't want to get all crazy and try to hike up Table Rock or anything, so we started with some easy hiking around Paris Mountain State Park.
As can be seen in the photo above, Max was slightly unsure about this hiking contraption at first. But as soon as he was on Chris's back and bouncing around, he was good to go. It was quite chilly as we started off - thank goodness we remembered Max's mittens! And his Tigerhead!

We really did pick the absolute perfect day. The leaves were so pretty and it smelled so fall-like! And, (yay!) Max loves hiking!! (He especially loves it when Chris runs, or trips, or jostles his carrier in any way. My little adrenaline-junkie!!)

You know who else loves hiking? My old girl Bailey! She was such a trooper as we hiked all over that park, even though her hips aren't what they used to be. Of course, within about 5 minutes of us starting our hike, she decided to go to the bathroom, which had to be picked up of course (we were in an area where lots of people walk...of course she couldn't have waited until we were in the woods). The only problem is that there is only ONE trashcan in the ENTIRE park. Result: Mama had to carry a bag-o-poo for the entire 3 hour adventure. Fun times.

This dam behind us is the Lake Placid Dam, which was built in 1898. Not old in European terms, but pretty old around here.

We finally made it back to our car after 3 hours of non-stop walking. Chris survived being our "baby-mule", Bailey survived our 20 minutes of straight uphill climbing even with her bad hips, I survived 3 hours of lugging around a bag of poop, and Max survived being carried around like the little price he is. All-in-all, a really good time was had by all and I hope we'll do it again soon.

**Of course, I must add: look at Max in the picture above. He looks a tiny bit odd, right? He was ICE cold by the time we were done. Even though he had the Tigerhead hat and the mittens, his little hands were icy, and I'm guessing his legs were as well. He literally could not stand up and walk once we took him out of the pack. He was like a cute little baby horse, trying to learn how to use his legs. So, he got a little cocky and thought he could take off running downhill in the parking lot before his legs were really thawed out and you can see the end result below. Figures. We make it through hours of hiking through the woods without incident and have an accident in the parking lot right before we get in the car.  Regardless, he was chipper again within 5 minutes...but it looks awful!**