These past 7 weeks have been hard, really. Ever since we sold the majority of our stuff back in Denver, we've been living out of suitcases and the kids have been on a restricted toy diet, and I think we're all just a tad sick of our outfits, our 2 ragged stuffed animals, and our carton of Dollar Store glow-in-the-dark rave sticks.
The kids don't really sleep all that well here. Probably because we're not onto any kind of real rhythm or schedule yet, but also because their euro pack n' plays are rock solid, and because if JP can smell me within a country mile, he's up and at 'em at the latte counter all.night.long.
I failed out of language school. Actually, I dropped out, deciding that my nerves couldn't handle the innumerable scenarios I ran through mentally during our immersion sessions each morning, imagining I was receiving telepathic messages from my children as they encountered mortal peril. Plus, my class was full of nuns, and everyone knows that nuns are the smartest, and I felt like the class dunce.
(Actually, Elizabeth from Florida was the class dunce, but she and her leather jeggings dropped out the day before I did, so I had to take up the mantle, and it was simply too heavy.)
Yesterday, we accidentally took the kids to Latin Mass in Italiano in a church run by cappuchin friars (cool) about the size of my parent's house (not cool) with vaulted, noise-amplifying ceilings (do you see where this is going?) and no vestibule. Also, freezing rain. And an ear-infected toddler who just.won't.quit. the crazy. It was, we decided, a very apt real-life experience of Purgatory, where God, whom we know loves us, is so close...and yet so very far away. Also, if a certain bronze statue of St. Michael crushing the head of satan is a bit wiggly where the spear connects to his hand, well, don't look at me...look about 2 feet lower.
It is crazy hard not having a car. But also really awesome. On the one hand, rain (which is apparently frequent here, who knew?) is a total game-changer for any and all plans, since we have to walk evvvvverywhere, and Lord Joseph makes his complaints manifest after insisting on sitting his ass in each and every puddle in every piazza we traverse. He is equally enraged if he stays dry but is prevented from puddle squatting. You just can't win some.
|Can't see this from a car.|
So, double-edged sword. My thighs are leaning towards liking it slightly more than disliking it, though, as is my wine and peroni-loving tummy.
|"Please take me home, I can't sleep in this country."|
|Sister tourists. Nailed it.|
|"Jack? Abigail? Are you?" (So sad, we didn't count on how much he'd miss his little friends)|
Ciao for now.