B's Third Birthday

This year, Bailey's birthday felt a little like Christmas.  It was the first year she really knew what was coming and in her typical fashion, she was so charmingly excited that she was actually going to get to celebrate her own birthday.  Perhaps the longest, most complete sentence she has ever said to me was last week when she announced: "Mama, I want cupcakes on my birthday."  What, now?  Who replaced my two-year-old with a big kid?  Needless to say, cupcakes became top priority...especially since there are really only two places in the entire city that specifically make cupcakes...and my muffin tins are in The States.  So, a few days before Bailey's birthday, we went on a pilgrimage to Cupcakes Wien to ensure their confections would be fit for our Bear's celebration. If I could've bottled the happiness oozing out of that kid when she realized she was about to eat a cupcake...well, we could probably create world peace is what I'm saying.  My red velvet cupcake could've tasted like saw dust (far from it!) and I still would've considered it the best cupcake I've ever had in my life.  

The next day our big project was making sure the house was turned out for our festivities.  This included a lot less cleaning than usual and a lot more pulling paper lanterns out of their storage space and hanging movie posters and twinkle lights on the walls.  Our place was rocking.  I'm sure anyone fortunate enough to pass on the street was jealous of whatever fantastic party was about to go down.

We were all giddy when we went to sleep, reminding Bailey that she'd be three when she woke up in the morning and that there would be lots of birthday treats.  The big day didn't disappoint.  We were up bright and early eating birthday cake pancakes (Complete with an entire bottle of sprinkles dumped in the batter--what kid doesn't want permission to do that?) lots of berries and bacon and free-flowing refills on the orange juice (the likes of which never are permitted by this stick-in-the-mud mama).  After getting ready and picking out birthday dresses (a must!) we were out the door to go visit Bailey's horses.  The good people at the Hofburg Palace are good enough to house the Lipizzaners in the royal stables for her.  We had tickets to view their morning exercises...and since no one under the age of three is permitted to do this, we figured it was a fitting right-of-passage for our horse-loving girl.  In the end, the morning exercises were really just that--horses being exercised.  But it was really cool to see how fancy their arena was (there was no picture-taking allowed) and to spend some time chatting about all the different horses, the charming noises they make and the giggle-inducing way they are trained to "tip toe".  

The day outside was snowy and really cold, so we decided to warm ourselves up at Cafe Mozart--a fancy old-school cafe just around the corner from the Sacher Hotel.  Bailey got some hot chocolate while sister sipped on hand-squeezed orange juice and we all lingered about our second breakfast like minor royalty.  Bailey only spilled a little hot chocolate on her dirndl (and even more on her papa), but it was a really nice break to sit and enjoy a little Viennese opulence.  After that, it was back to the cold on our quest for more cupcakes to celebrate with that evening...and a tour through the ice skating rink outside city hall, which had conveniently opened on Bailey's birthday.  

After schmoozing with the polar bears at the ice rink, we were pretty well frozen and decided it was time to defrost in front of a new movie Bailey had gotten for her birthday; Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was a big hit with the girls, but not so much with their father who I'm pretty sure fell asleep out of self-preservation half way through.

After our lazy afternoon, it was time to gear up for some more celebrating.  We invited Bailey's friend, Jack, over for pizza and he brought his mom and baby brother...who coincidentally are really awesome too.  I'm amazed we got any pizza into those kids.  They were so excited to see each other that they ran non-stop laps around the house for twenty minutes.  That did mean the adults got to sit and eat their own food without pausing every few seconds to answer questions or demands, so in the end it worked out for everyone but our downstairs neighbor.  

The cupcakes did not disappoint for the second time and the Bear was in absolute awe that it was her turn to blow out the birthday candles.  Everyone enjoyed what would be fantastic cupcakes by any country's standards and then we adjourned to the living room where the rest of the night was spent in a parade of kids through the ball pit tent we got Bailey for her birthday.    A top day in any book.  

And as an encore, Bailey spent the entirety of her first day being a three-year-old....in her pajamas.  Meaning, the first time she changed clothes that day was to get into different pajamas for the night.  

Something tells me she'll be spending this year living the dream.  

To the Bear on Her Third Birthday

Dear Bailey,

Dear Lord...where do I even start?  This has been such a big year for you.  I cannot comprehend how you've come so far, my little girl.  Not only have you moved from one continent to another,  but you've grown from a rough-and-tumble toddler to a boisterous little girl. You're learning patience and how to master those great big emotions that are a part of who you are. You've taken to demanding I braid your long hair like your big sister's and your fashion sense defies anything I've ever seen on a kid before.  You own it, though, sister.  You own everything you do.  You stand strong in your choices and only the stubborn will of your mama can make you back down.

You love your family so much, you sweet thing, but most of all, you love your sister; you emulate everything she does too.  The two of you carry on around the house in amazing games of make-believe, hollering spells (Wingardium Leviosa!!) hosting weddings and saving tigers in distress. 

You overwhelm me every day with depths of the love you possess; the passion that encompasses every aspect of your life--both the good and the bad. You somehow effortlessly embody the unprejudiced acceptance that Christ showed for others and I often find myself jealous of how you can get people from every walk of life to open up to you--to melt and fall in love with your smile and those happy eyes--to accept hand shakes, high-fives and hugs as tokens of your affection wherever you go.  It is an amazing and a humbling thing.   

You are so full of life, child.  When I look at you, I know what it is to see someone who is a bringer of light.  I am so thankful that God chose us as your family--that your Papa and sister and I get to be in the glow of His light shining through you every day.  I hold you close now, knowing you are meant to eventually go out into the world.  You might only be three years old, baby, but if you wanted to rock this world, I believe you could do it...and you'd do it with a skip in your step and a glint in your eye.

With all the love in my bursting heart,
Mama Gigi

New Year's the Viennese Way

Much like the rest of the city, I feel like I'm just now pulling myself out of vacation mode.  It has been well over a week since New Year's and I'm just starting to pull my head out of the fog. A few weeks ago, our friends (also known as "Tiana's parent's") generously offered to take our girls so we could experience a Viennese New Year's Celebration.  They've been here for three years and were keen to spend the night in...so they bravely hosted a sleepover for four girls under the age of five.  I dropped the girls off around 4pm (although I stuck around for an hour "trying to leave"...I'm such a wuss) before heading home.

Cheers!

Obviously, there were no festivities starting yet...well, there were plenty of people around the city setting off fireworks...but compared to what happened at midnight, these piddly things did not denote an actual celebration.  John and I sat around in the apartment for a few minutes...mostly in shock that there were no children running around and that we could leave the house if we wanted to...so we did.  We wandered around the first district and basked in how wonderful it is to be able to walk at one's own pace.  For me, this is a big thing.  The main streets and walkways downtown were already starting to overflow.  There were booths selling glueckschwein (lucky pig) paraphernalia all over the city, waltzing lessons in the middle of Graben and more than a few bottles of champagne that had already been opened.  The two of us had entertained grabbing a coffee at one of my favorite hole-in-the-walls, but even they were filled to the brim. So, we wandered back to our home turf--to Chang's (a restaurant literally around the corner from our place) where we leisurely ate gyoza and drank prosecco with specks of confetti flitting along with the bubbles.  It was really lovely and it could've been enough...but the night was still young!  These were just the preliminaries.

Outside the Rathaus

We spent most of the evening with friends, eating great pizza and nasching on olives...making toasts to Winston Churchill (doesn't everyone?) before winding our way downtown.  Where, Holy-Dear-God-In-Heaven I've never seen such masses.  Never in my life have I seen that many people (and I'm not claiming innocence here) all drunk and celebrating the new year.  We were outside City Hall where a DJ serenaded us with that old-school pop that only the Germans and Austrians still seem able to appreciate.  (I'm just glad David Hasselhoff didn't make an appearance...)  John supplied us with Cuban cigars and we hollered and smooched with the booming crowds as the clock struck midnight.

Nothing but people...as far as the eye can see

Our subsequent 'walk' to the U-bahn was possibly the most enlightening experience, though. The great hoard of bodies between us and public transportation was overwhelming...not to mention the distraction of one last mug of punsch before the stands disappeared or the opportunity to stop and dance to one of the many cheesy songs being blasted from stages throughout the city...it was madness.  Eventually, John and I broke ranks with the rest of our group and booked it to the train.  Along the way, we encountered so much broken glass that a person with open shoes wouldn't have stood a chance of escaping unscathed.  there were mounds of discarded champagne bottles and beer cans.  I cannot possibly paint an accurate picture to do the scene justice.  Mostly, I was glad to have my six-foot-seven body guard with me to barrel through crowds...to hold hands on the train and to help me wake up our sweet sleeping babes to bring them home.

In our last days of vacation

New Year's Day was just another day of vacation for us.  We did a little more organizing and purging than usual, but it was mostly just a day to relax--to be thankful that even though I hadn't made it to the stores before they closed for the holiday, I at least know how to make bread and scrape together something out of nothing when my kitchen shelves are looking bare.

And that was it; eventually, it came: the routine.  We're finally back in it.  Work, preschool, playgrounds, grocery shopping, play dates...we're back into that old rhythm again.  It feels a little different, though.  I feel better rested...not spread too thin, as mama's so often tend to be.  Outside of that first day of the year, we're eating a lot better and most of us are already seeing the benefits of a diet focused on lots of  nourishing foods.

John just received confirmation that he has been approved for a second year in his position, so we're heading into 2013 knowing most of it will be spent in Vienna.  We're looking forward to the promise of home leave, but until John's other two coworkers are replaced (they're both leaving in the next few months), we won't have any input about possible travel dates.  I do feel confident, however, promising we'll be stateside sometime in the next 12 months.

Who says I don't have this bureaucracy thing figured out?

The Best Staycation Ever

I haven't posted anything until recently about our actual Christmas celebration, because I've been on vacation.  One would think, given our convenient geographic location, that John and I would've bustled the girls around to any one of a hundred fabulous destinations within Europe during our Christmas vacation...

nope.

Dude.  We live in Vienna.  We spent Christmas in Vienna and we spent the rest of our vacation here too.

Not that we were out sightseeing.

No, the days following Christmas were spent in glorious lazy succession.  Big breakfasts that take up half the morning, followed by lots of lazing around the house, attending tea parties and grand balls held in the girls' bedroom.  Eventually each day we'd realize we should probably unlock the front door and venture out into the fresh air...so we'd ask the girls what they wanted to do.  This usually landed us in a big park or walking around downtown to find horses.  We'd stay out until the girls started to get tired and then bring them home, where every toy was suddenly new all over again.

wash. rinse. repeat. 

It has been one of the better vacations we've ever taken. 

Meanwhile, I've been putting together a new blog that you are all welcome to follow.  I won't be promoting it or posting updates on Facebook, but I will hopefully be writing regularly.  In lieu of New Years resolutions (which I never make anyway), I'm starting a bit of an adventure that steers out of the realm of the narrative family focus I try (and often fail) to maintain here.  (The link for this new blog is: 12monthsofchrist.blogspot.com.)  The reason for the separate space and the furtive attitude is that I am uncomfortable drawing attention to the ways I'm trying to better myself.  Luckily, I can give most of the credit for anything good happening in my life to the Big Guy Upstairs, hence the birth of this new space. 


Now, I plan to go back to stealing as many glorious lazy family vacation moments I can.  "Blessed" does not even begin to describe it.  

Our First VIennese Christmas

Christmas morning for us this year was the magical stuff of childhood.  All of us were giddy with excitement as we snuggled together in bed, (for maybe a minute or two) speculating about the arrival of Santa and whether there would be any new presents under the tree.  Eventually, we couldn't stand it anymore and ran together out to the living room where there were gifts overflowing and new dollies sitting under the tree.  Because I didn't have the heart to make the girls wait around for breakfast without opening any gifts, we let them open presents from each other first.  Bailey picked out a glittery flying pig ornament for Audrey, a Christmassy ring and stick-on earrings, temporary tattoos and a little stuffed horse on a keychain for her school backpack.  Audrey got Bailey a monstrous playdough kit that makes cupcakes and ice cream. (can you tell who took her shopping? Next year Mama's enforcing a price limit)

Luckily, though, ripping open the playdough was enough of a distraction for me to whip up some biscuits and gravy for breakfast.  This is old-school traditional Gamelin family fare on Christmas morning and I could not believe how long we stayed at the table trying to get the girls to finish eating.  There were mounds of presents waiting in the next room.  If that's not motivation to stuff your gob, I don't know what is.

After what felt like hours lingering at the breakfast table, the girls finally set to work, opening presents.  A good number were from John and I, but it was really nice to have so many gifts under the tree from family too, wrapping everybody into our Christmas celebration.  The girls got lots of books and art supplies, movies, new figurines for their wonderful land of make believe.  The big one for Audrey...the one I could tell she was waiting for...was the only thing she's really ever asked for as a gift.  This is the first year she has voluntarily requested anything for Christmas: "A dog who can walk and talk, but isn't real.  Who's white and has a leash."  This might sound random, but her best friend back home has a FurReal dog (on a leash, who can be 'walked' around the house) and she wanted one too.  Audrey got one strip of wrapping paper off the box, realized what was inside, shrieked in excitement, jumped up and down flapping her hands and then refused to take the rest of the paper off the box because she was so nervously excited.

Um, that dog was worth it.

And because Audrey got one, Bailey got a dog too.  Her's doesn't walk (thank God!) but he does make noise--he came with a vet bag full of equipment to take care of him.  He sneezes (good Lord!), barks and makes chewing noises when you feed him a bone.  Pretty ridiculous stuff, but the girls love it, of course. 

After all the gifts were unwrapped, several of them already busted open and being played with, John rolled out the big kahuna; the doll mansion that is taller than either of the girls.  Obviously, much elation occurred...and thank goodness there was a place for all those new figurines to live.  The girls haven't really stopped playing with their dollhouse since.

The rest of our day was gloriously lazy, spent playing with all the exciting new things in the house, smelling and eventually getting to dig in to the turkey.  We were planning on having friends over for dinner, but they wound up with sick kiddos.  Never let it be said that the four of us can't manage a festive feast, however!  I indulged in some Christmas poppers from the British market in our neighborhood; we ate dinner wearing paper crowns and laughing over the other cheesy contents--conversation starters like "what kind of pizza topping best fits your personality?".  Cheese.  Definitely cheese.   

After dinner there were mincemeat tarts, fruitcake, Christmas cookies and marshmallows...and John trying to figure out how to video chat on his new iPad.  We spent the evening watching new movies (Brave!) and chatting with family in between.  It might not have been a traditional Christmas, but it was filled with new wonderful ways to celebrate together. 

I struggled a lot this year with our seeming unchecked consumerism, feeling the need to teach my kids that it isn't all about presents--that the American ideal of excess is flawed.  I might regret it some day, but this year we chose to sweep that all aside--to allow some excess and magic into our celebrating.  We wanted the girls to have it at least this once, and especially while we are so far away from our family.  It's indisputable that the magic of the day was palpable--one I hope our girls will be able to remember.

New Traditions: Our Christmas Eve

For the most part it seems nine months have been sufficient to acclimate ourselves to the 'new' culture we're living in; comfort and routine are things that now come easily in everyday situations.  The out-of-the-ordinary, however, is where we start to experience that heavy weight on our shoulders--not so much as a result of doing things like birthdays and holidays in a foreign culture, but more-so because we're doing it on our own.  John and I are both used to the delightful chaos of family holidays, so the weight of bringing something good and joyous to our girls all on our own is unfamiliar and intimidating.  And, who are we kidding?  For those who celebrate it, Christmas is the end-all, be-all holiday in the land of kid-dom.  So, John and I developed a strategy (as is our wont). It might not have been a very good plan...or an environmentally friendly plan...or one that will teach our kids the true meaning of Christmas, but what our plan lacked in responsibility, we more than made up for with child-like enthusiasm (and a pinch of consumerism).

Historically, our Christmas Eve's in the states are usually spent with family in fancy dresses, eating clam chowder or italian wedding ball soup.  Then we go to church and listen to a lovely sermon and sing Christmas hymns or watch kids perform a hilariously imperfect pageant.  Either way, the night always ends with the smell of a hundred extinguished candles after singing O Holy Night in the candle light--an event that often leads me to tears.

This year could not have been more different, but never hear it said that it was any less joyous.  We spent our Christmas Eve in happy preparation for the big day; mashing potatoes and prepping the turkey.  We also flitted around our district, picking up packages that had arrived just in time for Christmas.  Bailey, most notably, spent an entire tram ride alternately patting and smooching a package from her Auntie Em.  When the Bear and I got home with our package, we were greeted by the sight of the (real!!) nativity set that had serendipitously arrived just in time to celebrate Jesus' birth.  What really got our jolly spirit rolling, however, was that magical besmooched box from our Emma.  Not only did she send a ridiculous number of presents for the girls to put under the tree, but she also included a selection of Christmas cookies (that none of us Gamelin girls were able to make with each other this year) and homemade marshmallows to go with the hot chocolate mix she also made.  Wow.  Who needs Santa?  Emma saved the day!

After dining on some Raclette for dinner, we bundled our girls up and headed out into the night to look at the best of Vienna's best Christmas lights.  It was the most deserted we've seen the first district in a long time and it was just lovely to wander around listening to the girls exclaim over every new kind of light they saw. We walked under the grand chandeliers lining Graben and stopped to exclaim over the curtains of lights on Kohlmarkt before doing the rounds to see the gigantic red baubles gracing Rotenturmstrasse.  Stephansdom cathedral was beautifully lit from the outside and we stepped inside to listen to a bit of the Christmas Eve mass.  It might not have been in English and there wasn't any chorus of  "O Holy Night" drifting through the hall, but the smell of Christmas eve permeated the air--the smell of hundreds of candles extinguished; lit hours before in prayer for others, they blessed me too.  That smell brought back to me the memory of every other Christmas Eve I  can recall.  Once we exited the cathedral, we finally conceded to Audrey's wishes to return home (she thought the lights were great, but she was also starting to realize the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner it would be Christmas.)  So, we carried our tired babies down Kartnerstrasse and home on the tram, where Audrey had decided to suddenly convert to a Santa-believer.  I'm assuming the logical side of her realized it was obviously more profitable to believe in this guy...and the part of her brain that loves to live in make-believe couldn't resist the idea of a jolly old man leaving presents behind.

Just like that, we were launched back into the magic of Christmas.  The girls put on their Saint Nicholas Day jammies, we drank Emma's cocoa topped with fluffy marshmallows and indulged in some more Christmas cookies. Then came the snuggling on the couch in the light of the tree, listening to Papa read The Night Before Christmas.  We even left out cookies and milk for the big guy, because, let's be honest, who knows whether Audrey will permit there to be a Santa next year or not.  As we huddled together in their room for bedtime, I read the girls the story of the night Jesus was born and had a lengthy conversation with Audrey about protocol for the morning, including, but not limited to: 1) who was in charge of waking whom in every conceivable combination of scenarios 2) Which doors John and I were to keep closed, so's not to disturb the big guy, and most importantly, 3) That if either John or I saw Santa in the house, we were to immediately return to bed and not disturb him. 

With my orders thoroughly understood, I tucked my girls up in bed, likewise, with orders for dreams of sugarplums and flying reindeer.

I'm sorry to say that John and I totally disobeyed Audrey's orders.  We were up into the wee hours, watching It's a Wonderful Life and putting together the completely ludicrously enormous doll house that had been, until then, sitting in it's packaging in my closet for months.  It took us three hours (with some serious teamwork) to get that thing together.  But as we flopped, exhausted into bed after eating Santa's cookies, trimming the tree with candy canes, hiding the dollhouse from view and loading the floor around the tree with presents, we realized: this is the first year we've done Christmas.  Just us.  We pulled Santa duty all on our own.  It was hard work and it felt good to know that we were doing it right...if only for this moment--this year.  We were doing right by our girls and carrying on a magical tradition.

Trimming the Tree, Decking the Halls and Other Holiday Shenanigans

I think it’s safe to say that we officially dove into our Christmas celebrations two weeks ago with the purchase of our drunken little Christmas tree and we really haven’t paused to draw breath since.  Meaning, I’ve kind of had my head out of the goings-on of the world at-large and have hunkered down to spend time with my little family.  Really—just the family--because everyone else has been sick or out of town for the holiday.  It’s been quiet and there is a deliberateness with which we spend our days.   

Ein Schönen Baum, Ja?

Two Fridays ago, I had my mind stubbornly set on a Christmas tree.  I was not going to bed without a festive evergreen gracing the corner of my living room.  And, in the end, I got what I asked for…just in the most hilarious way possible.  We bought our tree from a gent at the Karlsplatz UBahn station—August Krautwurst.  If he could’ve presented a more inebriated self, we would’ve had to scrape him off the floor.  As it was, it took us 30 seconds to select a tree and then ten minutes to convince August that we wanted to buy it.  I’m not sure if I was expected to haggle a great deal or start kicking the tree trunk and pulling at branches, but after stretching my vocabulary to the limit, trying to think of more than ten ways to say “I want to buy this tree”, all it really took was waving fifty Euros under old August’s nose for him to get the point.  His drunken brother man-handled our tree into some netting and haphazardly hammered a wooden stand to it’s base.  After a few wobbles himself, he decided it was ‘straight enough’ and we headed home, where we welcomed what is, to my mind, the most festive aspect of our family Christmas.  

Our drunken little tree leans a bit to the left—not quite perfect—just like the hodge podge ornaments gracing it’s boughs; old family ornaments collected through the years and a few new ones to mark our first Christmas in Vienna.  The girls and I spent time making paper chains and stringing popcorn and cranberries to top off our misfit little tree…now we spend a lot of time sitting on the couch together just looking.  Bailey prefers to walk around the tree touching each ornament with one finger…and I indulge her because every ornament on that tree holds a different memory for me.  I remember making some of the silly baubles hanging from the branches—or receiving them as gifts…but most of all, I remember years upon years of gazing at them hanging on my parent’s Christmas tree.  If my girls remember nothing else from Vienna, I hope this little Austrian Christmas is the thing that sticks.

cookies!!

We made sure all of our shopping for the month was done early and everything shipped to the states several weeks ago, so we’ve really been at our leisure, enjoying spending time together.  We made the mandatory trek out to the Christmas Market at Schönbrunn (tourists!! The horror!) We made brownies and snickerdoodles for Audrey’s teachers (baking things at home is apparently a rarity here) and we got to see Audrey perform at her school Christmas party.  And by “perform”, I mean, she actually did not have a pained expression on her face and she did several of the motions to accompany the songs.  This is big news!  Unfortunately, the rest of her “party” she spent glued to my side while her sister had a mental breakdown because a) I made her take off her Randy Parker winter gear after she spent thirty minutes sweating in it and b) there was a baby who was learning to walk toddling around the room. This is inexplicably horrifying for my little bear.  Why?  I cannot fathom, but she is terrified of babies becoming mobile. 

At least she's not the only kid with fingers in her mouth

Luckily, after the forced road march from Audrey’s school to the train station…after making both of the girls sit on a bench and telling them that we would skip every train that came until they BOTH stopped crying…God sent me a savior…in the form of a little child. Imagine that…only this kid’s name is Coen and I’m certain he and his mother were sent by God himself to escort us home on the train.  This cheeky little Australian boy squeezed between Audrey and me, held both of our hands and made faces at Bailey all the way home.  Audrey even planted a big old kiss on his lips when he got off the train; I’d ask him to marry her, but he’s leaving in January.  Tragic.  Luckily, little Coen turned our entire day around and we spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring things that needed to be done around the house and chose to color for hours instead. 

look at that sugar-crazed gleam in her eye!

At the Belvedere

Soon, Audrey was in full-on Christmas break and we even made it out of the house to go decorate cookies at a friend’s house (read: eat lots of candy and chase the dog).  Saturday was our first real day of vacation with John around and we made our way out to the Christmas market at the Belvedere Palace.  It was lovely—we got there early enough that the crowds hadn’t quite arrived and we basically stuffed ourselves, starting with roasted chestnuts, cheese, salami, potatoes and pickles, then moved on to strawberries dipped in (pink!) chocolate, some wurst and fries…and then more roasted nuts to top it off.  Considering I had so recently recovered from food poisoning, this was pretty ballsy in my book, but it was worth it.  We were absolutely jolly as we raced home with frozen toes to watch some Harry Potter. (I am so thrilled to have converted both girls to the fan club.)  

The Weihnachtsbim!

Later that evening, Bailey and I ditched Audrey and John and popped down to the Ring to ride the Weihnachtsbim (the Christmas tram).  We bought our tickets and received krapfen (donuts) from Santa as we boarded.  Both the exterior and interior of the tram were decked out for the holidays, there was cheesy Christmas music playing and everyone on board just seemed happy (this never happens on any other tram...maybe Vienna should try giving out donuts to increase the population's overal stick-in-the-mud demeanor).  Bailey ended up falling asleep after about two minutes, so I got to enjoy a really relaxing ride around the Ring, looking at Vienna's Christmas lights.  It was really nice.  When we got home, Bailey announced: "I saw Santa!  He gave me a donut!".  Best. Santa. Sighting. Yet.  

Overall, we’re just nauseatingly happy; so happy to be spending time together, even if it’s rainy days spent playing elaborate games of make-believe and talking about what we want to do around the city before Christmas.  A lot of people we know are leaving town for the holiday, but we’re ecstatic to be here.  This is the first Christmas we’ve made for ourselves, and while we’re certainly feeling very real pangs of loss for family traditions spent apart, we know that we’re also making something new and beautiful—that this Christmas together is holy.