Browsing Tag

traveling with children

Moving to Italy, toddlers, Traveling with Children

The Urge to Purge

August 8, 2013

First, a quick aside on yesterday’s semi-ranty 5 favorites: if you had a natural childbirth, I don’t hate you. I actually think you’re amazing, and I’m a little bit in awe of you. I just don’t want to read stories about how ‘all women were made to do this’ and ‘this is my one shot as a woman to unite my sufferings to the Cross of Christ.’ It just isn’t any good for me. And that’s all I was saying.

My two bff’s have pushed out half a dozen natural wonders between the two of them with nary a drip of narcotics to speak of…and I stand in awe. But having ridden in a couple of bucking backlabor rodeos myself, I can now confidently say that, unless a future child o’ mine decides to debut in a moving vehicle, there is nothing that can stand between this woman and her spinal block. Nothing. And I’ve run 5 half marathons and had a cavity drilled without novocaine. So I guess there are just different kinds of pain that different bodies can handle.

Mmmkay, moving forward. We’re packing. And last night while lying in bed awake awake awake until the heat finally broke close to midnight, Dave and I were discussing the logistics of next week’s immigration flight and it occurred to us that schepping a double stroller, 8 suitcases, a hiking backpack, 3 carryon items and a computer bag through 4 airports is going to be really, really painful. And expensive.

My goal, then, is to pare our nomadic inventory down even further, and I’m happy to report that after a few hours generously gifted to me by Timmy the Sheep and Pimpa the stupid looking dog (Italian cartoons are the worst. The worst.) we’re 2 entire suitcases of junk lighter.

I’ve successfully culled the boys’ wardrobe down to about 20 pieces per child, which, honestly, still seems like a lot of clothes for two little people. That includes summer and winter wardrobe options, and one heavy jacket per kid. And like 3 pairs of shoes apiece. Yes, it will mean more frequent laundry, but such nice tidy little loads. I think I could conceivably launder their entire wardrobe in 2 washes now, which feels amazing.

I accidentally added 10 lbs of crucifixes, rosaries, and various religious kitsch to our chattel with my frantic shopping spree yesterday morning, so now I’m trying to justify having 4 separate icons of the Holy Family, and still hoping to score an authentic Fontanini nativity creche sometime this weekend. Because who lives in Italy and doesn’t own a nativity set? It’s practically a crime, I tell you.

Also on the chopping block after this morning’s re-evaluation: picture frames, every single toy my children own except for 2 stuffed animals apiece, too-small shoes (sorry, little brother, if that’s you in there) and various adult clothing items that made me pause longer than 3 seconds in considering their value.

I basically have 3 criteria for determining whether something stays or goes:

1. Do I love it/does it make me happy? A little subjective, yes, but what’s more subjective than choosing an outfit in the morning? I find this works especially well with clothes, both for me and the kids. I might have tossed away a few pairs of perfectly good cords this morning from their stash…but I never dressed them in those pairs. And so even though they were a great brand/in decent shape/perfectly serviceable…they were just taking up space. Use it or lose it.

2. Can I easily replace this? This is especially helpful to me when I’m wavering between stay or go for some piece of something or other purchased from Target, etc. If it was cheap and easy to find in the first place, then why not let it go and pick another one up later, if it is truly missed? When packing for a move, I find it helpful to consider whether I’d buy the item in question a second time, which is essentially what you are doing when you’re paying to ship or transport something you own. So IKEA picture frames, Target canvas storage bins, thrifted little boy’s winter pants? Gone, gone, and gone.

3. Am I holding on to this for emotional reasons? I think this is more applicable for women who, unlike me, aren’t heartless robots bent on world domination (thanks Jen for the alternate MB site recommendation), but I will still find myself hanging on to something simply for the memories it evokes, as I’m sure even Vladimir Putin does from time to time.

But in this semi-nomadic life we’re leading right now, memories travel light and free, while filthy-yet-adorable Peter Rabbit pull toys do not. So, (sob) Peter, I’m afraid you’ll find the Eternal City to be your appropriate final resting place.

Ours is just identical. Except for being encrusted with filth and disease and without a hint of plush left in his fur coat.

So there you have it. Packing for dummies who fear airport transfers and extra baggage fees.

Happiest of Thursdays mamas, be you natural birthing hippies, housekeeping queens, licensed interior decorators, or run of the mill slobs with the sheen of a week’s worth of crappily-prepared meals glistening on the trays of your IKEA high chairs.

The internet is big enough for all of us, and I salute you.

Life in Italy, Parenting, toddlers, Traveling with Children

‘Once in a Lifetime’

July 20, 2013
Not always an uplifting phrase.

You know how when you’re a teenager and you’re not a parent but you’re completely sure that someday in a million years or so when you are, you’ll do a much better job than yours did?

Well, now I’m the parent. And even though I was thee worst 17 year old in the world, (I mean, I guess I didn’t get knocked up, arrested, or married to my high school sweetheart at the tender age of 17, so it could have been worse) I got to go to Ireland and France with my entire family + a couple of dear family friends, and I spent my precious first experience abroad bored, drunk, and generally terribly unhelpful for the entire 13 day ordeal.

Meanwhile, my saintly parents had taken 7 kids on a transatlantic misadventure and had one very, very colicky 20 month old in tow who was absolutely insistent that no-one-but-mommy, not even my father, push his stroller. If he craned his fat little neck to look back and saw anyone but mi madre at the wheel…banshee screams.

I thought about my parents a lot this past 5 days whilst we optimistically traipsed up and down the endless and multitudinous staircases of Amalfi and Atrani, Italia, dragging an umbrella stroller, 2 angry and feverish toddlers, and a big-ass overpacked metal clad suitcase (I’m really sorry, honey) because oh hell, I didn’t know we were going to have a washing machine.

And then yesterday morning, blinking blearily at each other over really, really good cappuccinos in the lobby of our emergency-booked (and priced accordingly) hotel, we had the good sense and the very blessed convenience of being able to pull the trigger and say ‘enough.’ So we went home. 3 days early. From paradise. Because our kids were sick, nobody was getting any sleep, and because we got enough beautiful pictures to prove we were there, and isn’t that good enough for this stage of family life?

And now, lying in my air-conditioned Roman apartment and savoring the not-noises of 2 toddlers napping in separate rooms and listening to the traffic go by in the street below, I think this is the best vacation ever.

We had some amazing experiences, swam in the clearest blue water I’ve ever seen, and ate some delicious calamari that can never hope to be replicated more than 1 mile from the seaside. But mostly we checked temperatures, administered ibuprofen, broke up fights, yelled at bedtimes, and collapsed exhausted into puddles of heat at the end of the day. In other words, it was business as usual.

I don’t know why I’m providing all this background except to say, look, being a parent is awesome and gratifying beyond belief and is truly the noblest calling … and it’s also awful a lot of the time. Even in exotic locales. Maybe even more so, given the heightened expectations?

Don’t get me wrong, it was an amazing trip born of good timing, an available house-swap, and built up vacation hours, and I’m insanely grateful we took it. But I’m also offering the following photographic evidence with the disclaimer that ‘items in photos make appear shinier/more appealing than in reality.’

Ain’t that always the truth?

So we broke up fights,
Posed for pretty pictures,
Marveled at the charm,
counted castles,
Persuaded angry babies to stay onboard ferries,
encouraged lots of independent motor skills,
breathed relieved sighs in moments of peace,
and tranquility,
and idyllic views,
and got lots and lots of exercise.
Bribes were offered,
Church steps were ascended,
coffee and gelato were consumed,
and we all lived to tell the tale.
Looking more or less,
like the crass American tourists
That we are.

About Me, Family Life, Life in Italy, motherhood, Traveling with Children

Back in the Saddle

July 10, 2013

So.

Nearly 3 weeks off from stay-at-home mom-ing have left me flabby, exhausted, and a little bit shocked at the brute physicality this job demands. Last night, in a fit of what can only be classified as satanic toddler jet-lag, both boys screamed, alternating their tones and voices, from 8:30 until nearly 1 am. I am still not sure what we finally did to get them to sleep, but I know it involved multiple bedroom re-assignments, a situation involving the AC and a fan, an old laptop spinning Curious George flicks at midnight, and perhaps 5 bottles of milk.

My aching head is telling me that it was either a killer flashback to my first parental rodeo, or I got all kinds of crunk last night. (This baby bump I’m sporting is pointing to A.)

All 6 Senour cousins, in birth order. (We’re tapping our next youngest and recently-engaged sister to provide #7, cause Lizzie and I need a b-r-e-a-k.)

I am so grateful we had the time with our friends and families – it was too short, it went too fast, but it was so much fun. And while I can’t say why yet, coming back wasn’t half as hard as I’d expected. Rome seems almost pleasant in these first few days back on the scene, half asleep in the sweltering summer heat and nearly emptied of tourists. They’ve all gone to the beaches, and so will we next week, to a charming little town on the Amalfi Coast called Atrani.

What do you think, worth the train ride/bus ride/hike?

While it still doesn’t feel like home here, there is a familiar ache as I take in the beauty of Rome, and a realization that our time here, while sometimes difficult and always fraught with Italian bureaucracy, is fleeting. Will my kids remember that we did this? I think Joey will, but I’m sure John Paul will not. Perhaps he’ll taste something years and years from now and it will jolt his memory and he will become somehow subconsciously aware that he has eaten octopus before, and that he loved it. Or maybe I’ll just have to show them the pictures I really need to start taking again, because cell phone cameras don’t really do life justice.

Whatever memories they escape with, I will always see Rome as the place where I became a mother in a fuller, more painful, and more exquisitely demanding sense. Now that I’ve had a few weeks’ worth of love, support, and practical assistance with my blonde wolf cubs, I realize the magnitude of the task of raising them, essentially, alone. I mean obviously Dave is here in the evenings, but all day every day, it’s me. No daycare, no gym play area, no mom’s groups, no understanding friends with their own cubs willing to swap out for a quick trip sans bambini to the grocery store. I’m on, constantly. And it is almost debilitatingly exhausting. But it has also made me so strong.

We flew, counting our connecting flights, on 12 different airplanes over the past 2.5 weeks. Sometimes JP had his own seat, but usually not, and so he was perched atop my 16 week baby bump for the duration. 6 months ago I could never have done something like that. But I was a younger mom, and a less chiseled mom. And while ‘chiseled’ is not a word I expected to use in my self-descriptive vocab anytime in the next 1 million years or so, it’s perfect for explaining this transformation in what I’m able to do and what I can handle now, as a mom.

Would this have happened if we’d never left the States? I’m sure it could have. I have dear friends whose husbands medical school schedules or demanding jobs require far more of them than what’s been asked of me. But I don’t know what other circumstances in my life could have made for this perfect training ground to toughen me up, and to ready me for my life-long career in motherhood.

So Italy, for whatever it’s worth, thank you. You’ve been the hard place I’ve been slamming up against all these long months, and it really has made me stronger. But if you want to add AC onto those trains and buses of yours, I won’t turn my nose up.

Stronger, but still not a sadist,

A mom.

Life in Italy, Traveling with Children

26 Hours Later…

July 8, 2013

We’re home in Rome, we’ve all survived the most whirlwind travel schedule of all time, and the baby just pooped on the floor. I have so much to report and so much to ponder, but first I need a lukewarm shower in our phone booth stall and a cold glass of prosecco on the balcony.

My toddlers are better travelers than your honor student. If I had a car, and I were a bumper sticking kind of gal, that would be my tag.

Ciao for now.

About Me, Culture of Death, Traveling with Children

Tap, tap, tap

June 29, 2013

Oh heeeeeeey there.

Just popping in from an endless week of perfectly behaved flying children (I am not being one tiny bit sarcastic, they were amazing angels and I am equal parts proud and mystified), visits to TargetWalmartChipotleKohlsrepeatrepeatrepeat, and nights of blissful, uninterrupted slumber, facilitated by loving grandparents, compassionate siblings, and the best sleep American-made mattresses can buy.

In short, we are in heaven. And aside from Wednesday’s little blip on the radar of all that is good and holy apparently dying a pitiful public death, all is right with the world. Case in point: I’m currently lounging poolside, typing on my brand new laptop, soaking in the Florida sunshine and free wifi, and not caring one bit if the kids are awake or not (probably not, they’re angels, I tell you) because Daddy is  napping with them in our palatial hotel room. And we have a babysitter for tonight.

So thank you, Maggie, one of my sweetest and best friends, for getting married this weekend, for throwing such a swank Southern affair of a wedding (monogramed everything. Heavenly, I tell you.), and for living in America. Ironically, she’ll be winging her way to bella Roma for a dreamy Italian honeymoon come Monday, and my wonderful husband wrangled the happy couple a private Mass with Pope Francis. Don’t ask, cause I won’t tell.

La dolce vita indeed.

If anyone needs me for the next 10 days, I’ll be wandering the aisles of a SuperTarget (possibly near you) and eating way too much Mexican food. Gotta grow this baby bump to American standards somehow…

About Me, toddlers, Traveling with Children

Jet-setting with Ankle Biters

June 17, 2013

Being 2 days away from a highly-anticipated trans-Atlantic flight, I thought I’d share some timeless wisdom for traveling with small children, which is almost as fun as sitting near a drunken bachelor party in economy class, but not quite as fun as sharing a row with a ‘nervous flyer’ who tends to yell the f-word or make impassioned pleas to our Lord and Savior with every bump of turbulence.

It’s a little of both, truth be told.

There are some basic fundamentals to keep in mind when flying with children, and I firmly believe they are the key to maintaining sanity.

Expect this. You’ll either be right, or pleasantly surprised.

1. You are definitely going to be hit with bodily fluids of some sort. Do not be afraid, rather, make it a kind of game to try to anticipate when and from where you’re going to be splattered. It becomes almost fun then, like some kind of aviation equivalent to the license plate game. (Hawaii, in this case, being projectile diarrhea or more than a half pint of blood.)

2. Bring one change of clothes per child, and be liberal in your definition of what counts as an ‘outfit.’ I have no qualms about making my 2.75 year old do the walk of shame through baggage claim in an ill-fitting onesie if he ruins his first outfit. Because I need room in my carry-on for…

3. Snacks. Whatever your kids like to eat, bring twice as much as you think they will want. I try to sneak protein into the rotation in the form of deli meat and string cheese, but I have no problem loading up on the peanut M&Ms. Will they be intoxicated on sugar once you land? Yes, yes they will. But if you’re lucky, you will have availed yourself of an in-flight cocktail and will also be feeling pleasantly loose.

4. Drink. Yes, while traveling with children. Yes, even if (especially, perhaps) you’re traveling solo. One glass of wine can go a long way when you’re enduring what is arguably one of the most dreaded acts in all of parenting. Plus, you’re not driving! Diego is. Or maybe Buzz.

5. Movies. My kids have unlimited access to screen time when we travel. Because 1. free babysitting and 2. My primary job on a flight is to keep them as happy and quiet as possible, keeping in mind that there are a couple hundred other people whose comfort and sanity are depending on me. Is this going to work every time? Of course not. But now is NOT the place to make some kind of ideological stand on the dangers and destructive nature of moving pictures on developing young brains. Unless your kids are good little soldiers who are willing to read quietly and draw placidly on their coloring pages for 13 hours straight. In which case, call me, because I have all kinds of questions.

6. Toys. Straight up bribe your kids with a pre-flight trip to the dollar store, and then ration the goods over the span of the trip. Joey got to shop for and pack his treat bag yesterday, and you better believe he is raring and ready to board that flight to tear into all that made in China goodness. Stickers. Window clings. A notebook and crayons. Matchbox cars. A mooing cow keychain with demonic light-up eyes. All good stuff, all relatively quiet, and all for around $10.

7. Less is more. As long as you have some fun! small! cheap! toys you don’t care about losing/breaking/giving away, enough food to keep them reasonably quiet, and a scrap of clothing to cover their wee naked bodies with after the inevitable accident, you’re golden. Seriously, security is awful enough without adding 50 extra lbs of carseats, toys, strollers, etc. to the mix. We are so used to traveling, at this point, that we know exactly how much is ‘enough,’ and have therefore relegated some surprising things into the ‘overkill’ category: stroller, car seats, blankets, diapers.

I’m not advocating for baby endangerment here, but if you’re traveling somewhere near family or friends, chances are somebody will be able and willing to loan you a stroller, car seats, pack-n-plays, blankets, etc. for your stay. We are done with strollers in the airport, unless it’s a mucho cheapo umbrella model you are happy to part with should it be lost/damaged/destroyed in transit. Plus, if you have a tight connection, your stroller will be the last thing they unload off the plane and you will either miss your connection or have a heart attack while running to catch it As for diapers, there are actually stores that sell them all over the world, it turns out.

I always wear our littler guy in the Ergo when we fly, and we make the toddler march through the airporpt, sometimes on a leash, because it tires him out, and because it frees up daddy’s hands for suitcases. Remember: suitcases with wheels also make good wagons…

Gypsy chic. Put a baby on it.

8. Use your neighbors. Not in a utilitarian sense, but seriously, if grandma in the next row over is flirting shamelessly with your one-year old…hand him over. Use the opportunity to make a restroom break, and remember that for many people it is a joy (and too rare) to see young children in public. Chances are you will also be treated to a sad story of how her daughter and son-in-law have decided they only want ‘fur babies’ for now and how much she longs for grandchildren of her own. Be kind to her, and let her hold your baby for as long as she’s willing.

9. Speaking of babies in public, remember: you are a witness to the culture of life when you bring your kids out in the world. I try hard to keep this in mind (probably not hard enough), especially when my kids are being ter-ri-ble and I’m starting to sweat. While I can’t always (ever?) control how they will act, I can always control my reaction to them. I’ve also learned through countless hellish flight experiences, it’s always the worst for the parents themselves. Most of your fellow travelers are not freaking out nearly as much as you might think, and even if they are annoyed, they’re likely not going to say anything. And if they do…

10. More drinks. We’ve offered to buy people drinks before, either because they traded seats with us when we needed them to, or after a particularly harrowing episode of baby behavior. They may not take you up on it, they may continue glaring, or it may just serve to sufficiently lighten the mood. It never hurts to try a little courtesy, though.

11. Relax. You are going to be home or on vacation soon enough, and you probably won’t die on this aircraft. Kids can absolutely pick up on your anxiety and will respond accordingly. If you are relaxed, happy, and keeping your standards niiiiice and low, chances are they’ll follow suit. Plus, you’re never going to see any of these people again in your life. So if something traumatic/humiliating does happen…yolo.

End PSA. And thank you everyone who prayed for my family – they never did have to evacuate, and the fire is now 50% contained. Sadly, more than 500 families in our community did lose their homes, so keep them in your prayers as they begin to pick up the pieces. I am so grateful my mom and dad aren’t in that boat, but it’s awful to see some of the pictures of those who are.

motherhood, pregnancy, toddlers, Traveling with Children

Five Favorites

June 12, 2013

1. This piece, which my younger sister sent me, and has significantly improved my outlook on how my children might turn out fine, after all.

2. These.

I could eat a can a day. Lucky for my waistline, baby’s cholesterol, and all that is good and decent, they are kind of hard to find here, and it’s kind of ridiculous to shell out $3 for a can of chips. But still. I long for them…

3. This guy.

Some recent gems have tumbled from his lips in his raspy little toddler voice, and I almost die some days over the things that rattle around in his brain…

  • Imma get bigger, and bigger, and bigger, and then I’ll be a priest?
  • Mommy, lay on that pillow. (Points to pillow on living room floor, strewn with shredded kleenex) lay down and rest NOW.
  • Girls don’t have a penis. Just a butt. 
  • Oh! I have a little nipple right there.
  • Jesus makes me happy, Mommy’
  • Mommy, look there, you have a flower on your butt, Mommy? (Thinking about getting a tattoo, you hot, young, 18-year-old thing? Think again. Think long and hard. Actions have consequences, and God might send you a two year old boy some day to fill your days with verbal chastisements just to drive home that point. And no, it’s not really on my butt. Thanks, son.)

4. My new smartphone.

My sweet husband snuck back into the house on Monday morning and surprised me with a genuine, made in this past year and compatible with modern technology smartphone so I can rejoin the 21st century. He even scribbled me a love note and left it near the box. Look out facebook, imma like all the things and share all the posts.

5. One week from today, I’ll be happily loading toddlers onto a 747 at Fiumicino for a 12 hour flight via Heathrow to Denver…and I’m not even scared.

Well that was a fun image search. {Source}

Not a single ounce of hesitation or worry over their in-flight behavior, no cares about airport security or baggage issues, and no qualms about feeding them any amount of sugar and carbs to keep them happy and content. And then the 6 subsequent flights in the following weeks … I don’t even care! Bring on the screaming and the transatlantic meltdowns and the time change horrors! Hell, I would be eagerly anticipating a steamship crossing at this point. Bring on the scurvy, we’re headed home on vacation!

Hallie, as always, thanks for letting my mid-week randoms have a happy place to reside on the internet.

Life in Italy, Traveling with Children

Cinque Preferiti

May 8, 2013

See what I did there? ‘Cause I parle Italiano. Sort of.

1. Working Han Solo in a coffee bar (doesn’t that just have SUCH a nicer ring than shop? And it’s true: there’s a veritable bounty of booze on display along with the most fabulous espresso you’ll ever put to your lips. Italy: 1, Starbucks: 0.) What about my kids? Oh, they’re at the park down the street with their NANNY. Who is a sweet Romanian lady (read: not a gypsy. They’re not all gypsies, despite what many native Italians believe) named Cristina who has graciously agreed to come to mi casa every Wednesday morning and party with my wolf cubs for 4 hours. I.have.arrived.

My love.

2. Ke$ha is bumping on the speakers right now. Italy is a lot of things, but it’s not prodigious in the pop music production. Or at least if it is, they prefer the soothing sounds of Pink, Mackelmore, and the Lumineers to any of their own native sons. So e’rrwhere I go, I can get down with my 14-year-old interior self. But don’t think I’m not thinking about Kendra’s wise insights the whole time. There’s definitely something to be said for too much of a good mediocre-at-best thing.

3. Papa Francesco’s latest charge to adult Christians: stop being teenagers for life. Gosh I love his frankness, his Latin American-ness, and his way with analogies. Also, see point #2 for the way I’m directly disregarding this advice. Also, doesn’t hurt that my talented husband wrote this piece.

4. This song. Thanks to Bonnie for feeding my ongoing pop addiction and pointing me in the direction of every song I’ve ‘discovered’ over the past year. Truly, I don’t think I’ve discovered a single new piece of music without her recommendation.

5. This amazing flight auction site. A buddy from college (the Boulder years, not the Steubie years) is behind this brilliant and legit flight bidding site. And y’all, we just booked 3 round trip tickets from Denver to Jacksonville, FL in June for $88 a piece. So for under $300 bucks, my whole family – even the lap baby – is flying a couple thousand miles for less than it would cost to hitchhike and subsist on fast food for the duration. Incredible. Plus, they booked us on an actual airline (Delta) and with reasonable departure/arrival times (leave at 9 am, arrive at 2 pm). Nailed it. Orbitz, you’re dead to me. I’m booking all forthcoming domestic travel via FlyinAway.com. (Now Eric, pretty please expand into the global market ASAP. K thanks.)

Go see the lovely Grace who is on Spring Break in the Big Easy and still sober enough to guest host for Hallie. Such a grown up, that Grace.

Family Life, Life in Italy, Marriage, Traveling with Children

5 Favorites

May 1, 2013

1. This guy.

Dave with baby Joey.

I could go on an on about his intelligence, his sense of urgency and integrity in his work, his fidelity to Christ and His Church, his love for me and for our little ones, his daddy skills, his finely tuned sense of ironic humor and ability to deliver deadpan one-liners to me in the most highly charged and emotionally inappropriate settings…but instead I’ll just tell you that the first Halloween after we had children, he accompanied me to a costume party dressed as Antone the Bedroom Intruder (I went as Taylor Swift, the early years, and Joey was Tim Tebow).

I don’t have any photographic evidence, but that’s probably for the best, because in the wise words of my sister Tia, ‘You can never unsee something.’

That, my friends, is a real man.

2. Like St. Joseph, whose feast it is today! I love my husband so much. He is cooking me nachos using impoverished Italian ingredients in our very kitchen right now, and this on his day off. St. Joseph the worker approves.

3. This place. Purveyor of fine imported goods and overpriced American indulgences. Think Betty Crocker brownie mix for around $8 a box. Think largish bottle of Heinz for around $7. Think you wouldn’t pay those prices? Come live abroad for a month or four and then see if you’d change your tune for the occasional splurge.

Don’t think I didn’t enjoy every bite of the $2.50 can of black beans that graced my nachos today.

4. This blog. I haven’t seen or heard from Jillian in 2 week’s time, but I’m actually seeing definition in my arm flaps and in my legs for the first time since, oh, I don’t now, 11th grade track season. Bonus: I got to use both Joey and JP as barbells this past week, since I am working within the confines of a rather (ahem) modest home ‘gym’ involving zero equipment. And they loved it. Okay Joey was actually really offended that I picked him up and did hang cleans with him, but John Paul smiled vaguely and didn’t protest. I am a Crossfit believer!

5. Google calendar. Hi, I’m 9 years late to the party, but whatever. We just mapped out our entire summer schedule including appointments, visitors coming our way, trips we’re taking, etc., and it feels ah-mazing to have it all in one place. Plus, I entered all our flight itineraries, booking numbers, directions to hotels, etc. onto each individual trip, ensuring that when we are inevitably stranded in some nameless airport in the Midwest US this summer I can whip out Dave’s Blackberry and pull up all the info we forgot to write down somewhere between security in Rome and baggage claim in Chicago. Or Denver. Or DC. You get the point.

I don’t know why I never thought to do it before, but I’m feeling awfully clever and modern for having figured it out. Plus, now Obama can track our every movement with complete convenience. Winning!

Thanks for hosting, Hallie!

Life in Italy, Traveling with Children

Summer in Sight

April 30, 2013

It was a balmy blistering 83 degrees here in Rome yesterday, and we celebrated by cranking the AC for the first time and bathing naked on the terrace. Well, half of us did. Buns and bubbles everywhere. Good thing we have zero across-the-balcony neighbors home during the day, and are sufficiently shielded from the multitude of passersby below.

Also featured: clear, 100% natural lemonade popsicles (I love you, Italy) and dozens of still-parka-clad natives streaming by on the side walk. (I will never understand you, Italy.)

I get that it gets really, really hot here. And that, therefore, 83 degrees and 95% humidity is nothing in the face of the looming spectre of Ferre Augosto and the days of 100 + on both thermometer and barometer. But for the love of modern cooling systems, a fur-hooded parka? When the mercury has crossed the 80 degree mark. That’s stupid crazy.

It’s cognitive dissonance at its finest, here, because as the tourists begin stripping down, (and I include myself in this illustrious subgroup) the Romans keep their parkas on, their stockings up, and their cardigans knotted firmly about the shoulders, just in case a bracing breeze should stir the languid springtime air. And I begin to wonder, am I drunk? Is it actually much cooler than I feel? Are my kids going to get sick at the park in shorts and polos, if from nothing else than the icy stares of disapproving Nonas?

Unrelated photo of a baby with a mustache.

83 degrees. And I’m wondering if I should have thrown a couple sweat shirts in the diaper bag. Italy, you’re getting under my skin.

Here are a couple things I am looking forward to, despite the hellish temperatures that loom:

A trip home to the good ‘ol US of A in June/July. Weee! A week in Colorado, an long wedding weekend in Florida, A long diplomatic layover in the Italian consulate in Chicago (plus a side of South Bend, Indiana, just for good measure) and a nice little Independence Day fete in our nation’s capitol. So yeah…that’s 2 international flights and 3 domestic crammed into 3 weeks. Should be…something.

Welcome to our row, gentlemen. Can we buy you a drink or 5 to dull the sound of shrieking? (We really do this, when necessary. It’s part of making sure people don’t decide never to have children of their own after meeting yours.)

A few days on the Amalfi Coast. A friend from Denver is taking a belated honeymoon to Italy and wanted to house swap with us while they come into Rome and do piligrim-y things and we flit down to Amalfi and hang out on the beach. Um, yes please.

Dave’s little sister coming to spend part of July with us! Dave’s sister Claire is a brilliant and talented doctor who is currently working in Cambodia where she specializes in tropical diseases. (My in-laws are very understanding parents.) She’s also worked as an ER doc in Detroit and NYC, so if that isn’t a diverse resume, I don’t know what is. She has like 3 Master’s Degrees, too, and is completely adorable. So if you know of any single Catholic dudes who are semi-outdoorsy and multilingual with IQ’s pushing 160 and a love for Third World living…(I am not positive Cambodia is Third World, but it’s hot as hell there, and that’s sufficient to qualify in my book.)

Dave’s best friend (and best man) coming for a long weekend in May just weeks after his ordination to the priesthood. It really doesn’t get any cooler than this. Keeping our finger’s crossed for a private mass in St. Peter’s. Or maybe an invitation from Papa to join his morning Mass at Casa Santa Marta? Hey, a girl can dream.

World Youth Day. Dave was going to go, on the Papal flight no less, but he is sending one of his writers on assignment instead. And I am so, so glad.

Independent and semi-adventurous that I am, single parenting in the heat of Roman summer sans swimming pool does not strike my maternal fancy. And it will be super fun to watch it all on tv, anyway. Promise.

Hey guys.

Sandals. Ladies, I need help! Shana posted some of her picks for flats on ANMJ this morning, and a couple of them look like they could be sufficient for high-mileage trekking, but I think I’d sooner die than own a pair of Birkenstocks. I just…no.

So does anyone recommend a cute, comfortable, and durable walking sandal that doesn’t scream aging feminist or spunky/outdoorsy sophomore? Also, TOMS…talk to me about TOMS. Can you walk in them for miles and miles? Do they hold up like Sperry’s do? Or are they just too insubstantial? I have a lot of shopping planned for our USA visit…

What about you all? What are your summer plans? Is it even ever going to be summer where you live? I know my temperature bemoaning is probably offensive to your frostbitten ears (I’m looking at you, Denver and Canada) and so I offer my condolences. But know that I would trade temps with you in a heartbeat. Love, the sweatiest woman in all the world.