MONTH 7: Return to Venice + MONTH 8: Return to Normalcy
It seems we are destined to return to Venice until WE GET IT RIGHT. This time we thought we had it all under control...we brought the Baby Bjorn AND the baby backpack, but no stroller. Lord knows, strollers are a ridiculous thing in a city with so many bridges (although Venetian mothers dutifully bump up and down them everyday with their babies bundled up within an inch of their lives). We couldn't have anticipated the insidious invasion of something much smaller...the dreaded cold virus. In addition to PSAs about teething, I think there ought to be a PSA for new parents about HOW MUCH IT SUCKS WHEN YOUR BABY GETS A COLD (in Venice...and YOU have one, too). Problem is, I'm clearly the culprit. I had it first before we even left. Yay me. We still managed to enjoy the odd moment here and there through a haze of total and complete exhaustion, but we need to come up for a different word than "vacation" to describe our time in Venice. I'm open to suggestions.
We caught the very beginning of Carnivale...it's a monkey in a mask!
...and a grumpy jester (although we did far more performing for him than the other way around)
...looking contemplative at the Doge's Palace (as contemplative as one can look in a dragon suit)
And we told Liam if he didn't get better soon, we'd send him packing on a gondola
...and briefly enjoyed the view from the rooftop terrace of our second apartment (he enjoyed its bathtub more)
...enjoyed a Byzantine Tetrarch circa early 4th century (ok, that was me, too)
...and was gleefully manhandled by our local coffee ladies at the Cafe Rosso...
...which fed his growing sense of vanity...
...chewed on some wooly glove (which really grosses out daddy...YES! VICTORY!)
...learned how to save the seals and butcher a pig...(important infant skills)
...was a perfect baby on the bus to the airport (and then screamed all through the plane ride)...
...and finally made it home where he told all his adventures to Crazy Lion...
...about how, even though he was sick, he didn't lose his sexy wrist bracelets...
...and squealed with delight to feel well enough to be an Air Baby again...
It seems we are destined to return to Venice until WE GET IT RIGHT. This time we thought we had it all under control...we brought the Baby Bjorn AND the baby backpack, but no stroller. Lord knows, strollers are a ridiculous thing in a city with so many bridges (although Venetian mothers dutifully bump up and down them everyday with their babies bundled up within an inch of their lives). We couldn't have anticipated the insidious invasion of something much smaller...the dreaded cold virus. In addition to PSAs about teething, I think there ought to be a PSA for new parents about HOW MUCH IT SUCKS WHEN YOUR BABY GETS A COLD (in Venice...and YOU have one, too). Problem is, I'm clearly the culprit. I had it first before we even left. Yay me. We still managed to enjoy the odd moment here and there through a haze of total and complete exhaustion, but we need to come up for a different word than "vacation" to describe our time in Venice. I'm open to suggestions.
On our best days, we made it to some museums...this is at the Academie, where Maestro Stinky crawled for the first time.
On our travels, we discovered the Road of Life (which has, unsurprisingly, been vandalized)
Yup...our baby has slept through some of the finest museums in Europe
...and some of the loveliest markets...
...with moments of rosy cheeked, snotty nose happiness.
He met up with some fellow piggies...
...and toured the canals in search of snacks...
...in his polar bear suit...care of the local charity shop...only 1 Euro!
Here, he's modelling MY charity shop present from Will...posing as a Russian spy
He braved some drizzle with his flat cap and fancy socks...
and helped pick out seafood for our tasty meals...
...posed with mommy...
...whilst rapping against posers with daddy...
...pretended to be Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade...(ok, maybe that was just me)
...and virgins...
...had a cappucino break in daddy's hat...
...got captured in a reflection...(who IS that baby and why does he have my polar bear suit??)
...did a fair amount of rosy-cheeked giggling...
...appreciated the grandeur of the Grand Canal...
...and San Marco...
...and finally made it home where he told all his adventures to Crazy Lion...
...put on a one-baby production of Twelfth Night...
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