Tag Archives: travel

Mind over matter

Posted on by
Reply

I wrote this post in March. How I keep writing stuff and then not posting it is beyond me. Sooo, I’m posting it now, two months later. I’ll get into my Houston trip next I expect, just  to catch y’all up. 

I’m on a plane again, on my way to Houston, for some reason flying solo always inspires me to write for the blog. I imagine it has a lot to do with finding myself suddenly stuck to a seat for hours on end with no one to tend to and the realization that there are only so many movies one can watch before all one’s brain cells simultaneously go on strike. Although, one of the movies I just watched, Last Vegas, kind of inspired this post. Michael Douglas, talking about his age says something like: My brain cannot comprehend how old this body is… I can’t reference the exact line right now as Air France still hasn’t figured out how to make wi.fi available on its flights (I assume it has a lot to do with the fact that we’re crossing an ocean), and I’ll probably be too lazy to do it once I land, but that was the gist of it. Also, let me just say that I had to take a minute and really think about it when I wrote Michael Douglas because in my head the “old one” is Kirk Douglas (R.I.P.), when did Michael Douglas get so old?

It really struck a chord. I often look in the mirror, surprised at the almost forty year old staring back at me. In my head I’m in my twenties… hell, often I’m just a teenager trying to avoid doing her homework, wondering where all the adults went. No, seriously, where did the adults go?

One of the signs that you’re a grown up, in my opinion, is when you realize that there are no grown ups, everyone’s winging it, just like you, There are no grown ups… frightening. Someone, somewhere, once told me not to treat old people like old people, because they were young just a minute ago, young and falling in love, working, starting their families, living their lives, exploring the world, and their heads hadn’t yet caught up with their bodies. Their heads hadn’t caught up with their bodies. Mine certainly hasn’t yet, and I’m not even forty.

My dad worked till the day he died at 80, I’ve always thought he was superman, but I’m beginning to think he just never realized he was eighty. He never let his body limit him, he lived his life mind over matter, until the very end, and that’s definitely not a bad thing.

There are a lot of things my mind cannot comprehend about life, but I no longer view this necessarily as a limitation.

It’s funny, last night I was reading the kids a book called I love you forever (incidentally, creepiest mother figure ever, sneaking into her kids room, crawling up to the bed on all fours, and picking him up to rock him while he slept… she does this when he’s an adult living in his own house too, drives over in the dead of night with a ladder tied to the car, climbs through the window cat burglar style and rocks her adult son in his sleep… and he doesn’t wake up… seriously I hear psycho when I read it. End of tangent), anyway, the mother obviously gets older in the book and at the end she’s a little old woman (a little old psycho woman) and my daughter turns to me and says “who’s the grandma?” and I explained that the old lady was the mother in the story, but as the boy grew up she got older and when he’s a grown man she’s a grandma, and then I told them that when they are grown ups I’ll be a grandma too. They looked at me wide-eyed and laughed in my face, such was the absurdity of the words coming out of my mouth. They started joking about how my hair would be white, and I would be small and frail… they were teasing me, like that would actually never happen. Because in their little kid heads it’s absurd that I would get old and change. But what’s even absurder (as they would say) is that though I rationally get that I’m going to be old and gray at some point, I don’t really believe it, I can’t wrap my mind around it, I, quite simply cannot comprehend it, just like they can’t.

The good thing is that not being able to wrap my mind around certain things, like the fact that my body is slowly aging, is that there are no limitations to the breadth and scope of what I think I can achieve. Thinking I am young means endless possibilities, means new beginnings, means I don’t have to be tied down to what I’ve achieved up to now. Feeling young is feeling free, I still often have the same excitement at what comes next that I had in my early twenties, without most of the insecurities. Sure, at some point my body will make itself heard, it will limit me in it’s ability to do what I want it to do, but my mind, it’s free to imagine whatever it wants, to believe that anything is possible and that is supremely liberating. I’m sure my mind will never comprehend how old my body gets, but that just means I get to be young forever. And THAT’s not such a bad thing.

A little optimism this way comes…

Posted on by
Reply

There seems to be a lot going on extended family wise lately.  Birthdays, pregnancies, drama… All families have drama, I know, but my tolerance for it is getting shorter and shorter as the years go by. I’ve probably simply just had my fill of it, between the Girl’s birth, the Husband’s illness, the in-laws’ health and financial insanity, the nanny leaving us, we’ve had drama up the wazoo. And now, well, now, I just try to live my life as drama free as possible, if only other people’s drama would quit encroaching on my oasis of level-headed beatitude (or so I wish it were).

My Grandma turned one hundred and four years old yesterday. 104. Every birthday that goes by is more amazing than the last. Obviously, we went down to Sao Paulo (Brazil) for the celebration.

For the first time ever the Husband managed to join us. We were supposed to be there two weeks, one of which would have been at the beach but of course the Husband’s entirely too short umbilical cord with the office started tugging at him and we had to change our plans and only stay one week (office drama). It was fantastic, though, to spend a week in the sweltering heat of the Brazilian summer coming from the dead of the most annoying winter we’ve had here. We haven’t had much snow (other than, typically, on the day before we left for and the day we returned from Brazil) but everyone’s been crazy sick, for months, just one thing after the other. I was sick literally from January 1st until halfway through the trip, so a little over a month, with everything under the sun, from laryngitis to bronchitis to sinusitis with and without the sniffles, fever, etc,etc, and the kids right along with me. The only healthy member of the family, shockingly and happily, was the husband. God only knows how that happened.

Suffice it to say, I was thoroughly enjoying being healthy and in flip-flops, I had absolutely no desire to come back to the crappy weather we’ve been having in Italy, I even briefly considered mutinously (and passive-aggressively) “losing” our passports.

So back to my Grandma or Vovo as we call her in Portuguese, her birthday went by without a hitch, she had a great week, she was very lucid and communicative. We don’t really understand her much when she speaks, which is tied to her age, but she’s perfectly capable of making herself understood. She spent a fair amount of time sitting in the living room watching the kids playing and going through the picture albums I take her every year, she had fun at her party and had her fill of champagne. What more can we ask for?

And now we’re back, hoping that “The Money Pit”, i.e. the stupid stable we’re still renovating, will soon be finished (and by soon I mean before retirement), settling back into our routine of school, skiing, and surviving the winter blues. The days are finally getting longer, if not warmer, there’s still some sunlight when we leave the house at 5.30 for soccer, which makes a gigantic difference, as you really feel like you’re finally on the better side of winter (the one closest to the end).

I have a weird excitement this year of good things to come, I can almost smell spring, I can almost see the end of the money pit sucking away at all our money, I can see better health, better weather, better moods just beyond my fingertips, but so close, so close, I just need to stretch a little bit more.

I guess that’s the best part of our trip to Brazil, all it takes is a few days with family, with nice weather, with good food, with love and just like that a little optimism this way comes…

 

Venice, eternally beautiful (or for however long it lasts)

Posted on by
2

Birthdays are pretty important to me. My mom always made a big deal of our birthdays, it was probably the time of year when she made the biggest effort when it came to us kids, it was our special day. This is in sharp contrast to the Husband’s family that made a huge gigantic, twenty really awesome presents per kid on Christmas, but not much fanfare at all on birthdays. All this to say, I like to make a big deal of birthdays, I mean before kids I would have week-long celebrations for my own birthday (just to give you a frame of reference). But, for whatever reason, I never seem to manage to make a big deal, or even any deal at all, of the Husband’s birthday, this year I completely forgot to even wish him a Happy Birthday until he hemmed and hawed for a while… poor thing. And this year, of all years, I should have remembered… because this year his birthday present from me was a weekend in Venice. I mean, we woke up in a hotel in Venice and quite literally the only reason we were there was for his birthday, and still I forgot. Not sure what deeply rooted psychological issue is going on there…

Anyway… I had good intentions… His birthday is so close to Christmas, and I’m so crap at celebrating it, that this year I organized a family trip so he would have something special. I had just read one of those apocalyptic meme’s on facebook about the ten (or twenty or something like that) places to visit before they disappeared forever and Venice was on the list. It’s relatively close to us (compared to, say, the great barrier reef in Australia) and it’s off season there now so hotels do not require one to take out a loan to pay for them as they do in high season.  It was a wonderful trip.

We drove an hour to Turin and took the train there for Venice. It was the kids’ first train trip and the excitement was palpable. I’m sure all the other passengers were just as thrilled. Everything was cause for wonder, especially the bathroom, as evidenced by the frequent trips we took there.

The hotel was great, I would definitely suggest it if you’re ever in that neck of the woods, Hotel Moresco. It’s a small, very new hotel, the staff is very helpful, the prices are average for Venice, the position is quite good without being too touristy, and the rooms are large, clean, and modern (also wifi is free, which is not standard in Italy).

We arrived Friday evening, Saturday was freezing cold and foggy, perfect for a romantic gondola ride…

And Sunday and Monday morning were beautiful and sunny. Overall, we had a wonderful, if slightly more expensive than expected, time. Even though we forgot to wish the Husband a Happy Birthday.

Up, up, and away!

Posted on by
1

I wrote this Tuesday May 28th, but only able to publish now…

It’s a funny thing leaving your kids and flying across an ocean. Last year, right about this time, I wrote a post, much like I’m doing right now, on an airplane over the Atlantic Ocean. Last time I was going to Brazil by myself to see my ailing grandmother (who has since blown out 103 candles on yet another birthday). The Husband and the Nanny were home with the kids, and though a bit nervous and guilt wracked at leaving the kids behind, one parent was home so I was pretty fine and ready to enjoy myself on the five-day trip. This time I’m flying to New York with the Husband, and I no longer have a Nanny. My kids are with their Nonni (paternal grandparents) and right before leaving for the airport I found myself handing my mother in law an envelope containing my will, a video for the kids, and instructions on their caregiving should they find themselves orphaned.

 

My parents travelled a lot when I was a kid. They travelled both with and without us, and they went all over the world. When they flew with us we all travelled together, when they flew without us they took separate planes. It was very matter of fact. They wrote their wills early on, they nominated a guardian for us, they took care of things. It must have been hard for them, but it was very normal for me. We knew about it, and it wasn’t weird.

 

So when the Husband asked me to go to NY with him for a few days, I immediately started thinking about the things I needed to do, not just the packing and the organizing, but the taking care of things. We’d been talking about it since The Boy was born, but I’m a world-class procrastinator and he’s Italian (that’ll become relevant in a minute) so it just never got done. When one travelled the other was home, and we know exactly what the other expects of us should anything happen. This time, though, we had no excuses.

 

Writing my will wasn’t hard. It was actually quite simple and straightforward. The hard part was thinking about what we’d want to happen to our kids. Have any of you had to think about this before?

Ideally, we would have liked young guardians so we went through all our siblings first… apart from the fact that we are total opposites on the religious, political, and quite possibly moral front, my brother is unmarried and still living the simple, single, lifestyle. Also, I’m not a huge fan of his girlfriend so his taste in what would presumably be my children’s mother figure did not bode in his favor. My other half-siblings are all in their fifties and their kids are all in their twenties and leaving home. I can’t imagine they’d want to have two preschoolers fall in their laps right when their getting ready to finally start enjoying some peace, quiet, and independence again. I don’t think I’d want my ability to travel at the drop of a hat and go out to dinner somewhere with tablecloths rudely taken away from me after twenty years of deprivation right at the finish line, would you?

The Husband’s siblings are more age appropriate but his sister is the one who wants to send us her teenage daughter to raise, so that doesn’t fill me with confidence, and his brother is… well… kind of an asshole.

And friends are always a tricky option when you have families as large as ours. So we were in a bit of a bind…

We finally settled on a joint, both physical and financial, guardianship of the two grandmothers. The kids have an awesome relationship with my MIL, and even though she’s older than my mom we think she’s a better option for when they are little, with the clause that they go live with my mom when they’re teenagers (unless they strongly object to this themselves).

 

Reading all this you’d think we were on death’s door. Of course we’re not, and we have a higher chance of kicking the bucket whilst driving than flying, but I guess it was as good a time as any to start thinking about it. But let me just say that it was absolutely, bar none, the hardest thing I’ve had to do. Ever.  Having to sit down and actually think about and imagine my children’s lives without me was enough to make me want to surgically reattach them to my body and never, ever let them free.

And it made me realize just exactly how precious, how absolutely, unquantifiably, important they are to me.

 

Doing all this also made me feel a little weird. In Italy people do not talk about death. At all. I remember when the Husband got sick, I casually told his mom that he needed to let me know what he wanted in case something went wrong and she completely freaked out on me, it was strange and pretty much incomprehensible to me, because my parents had always been absolutely straight forward and matter of fact about this stuff. When my dad died we all knew exactly what he wanted without even needing to read his will, this made things easy for us and avoided much pointless arguing. Of course this time was no different, I called my mom and told her about my will and what was in it, and all she said was to write the kids a letter to read when they got older (this being the digital age, I left them a video), my MIL, visibly tensed, got tears in her eyes, and told me to stop talking. This morning before we left she took me aside, showed me a secret drawer and said I should put “those things” I mentioned in there, and then shot off like a cat on fire.

 

It’s fine, we did what we had to do, and now I hope to enjoy the four days the Husband and I have in NY together. He’ll work some, I’ll shop loads, my mom is joining us there, the kids are having fun with their Nonni, whose action packed schedule for the week rivals anything the  Disney franchise could possibly come up with for coordinated family fun. And the small, innocuous looking, white, in case I’m gone, envelope sitting in the “secret drawer” has ensured my piece of mind.

 

Now tell me, have you done this? Thought about it?

It’s not that I want to go, it’s my wifely duty after all

Posted on by
4

These past two weeks have been pretty decent. The Husband was away for a few days two weekends ago for a trade fair, and again this week he was gone Monday and Tuesday giving speeches somewhere (I’m not very involved in his work life…), so I had plenty of relaxed bonding time with the kids. Is it weird, I wonder, that my life is so much easier when I’m alone with the children? I don’t mean long term, long term, I’m sure, would be a gigantic hassle, but just a few days here and there, if I’m the only adult around we can decide to have breakfast for dinner (something my Italian husband just doesn’t comprehend), or just snack in front of the tv, or spend the afternoon in bed reading books rather than being productive. Even the morning routines are more relaxed when he’s not around, of course, we’re always late, when it’s just me, mostly because I’m a much better procrastinator than my two preschoolers but occasionally a break from all the discipline and order is refreshing. As long, of course, as it doesn’t last too long, we need him to get us back on track, or our lives would be total chaos!

So anyway, he came back from the trade fair ten days ago and announced he needed to go to NYC and would I go with him. Our ten-year wedding anniversary is next month, so we had already decided to leave the kids at their Nonni’s house for a long weekend and go off somewhere alone. Initially, my reaction to going to NY was, absolutely not, remember what happened last time we were in the US?? But then rationality set back in and it’s not like his getting sick is related to our geographic position, right? Plus, I’m an awesome wife, I can sacrifice a few days of tedious routine, to accompany my husband to the city that never sleeps, where he has to work and I will have nothing to do but shop, eat out, and sleep in. With no kids. It’s my duty as a stay at home mom to set aside my engagements to stand by my husband. Right? Am I convincing you with this whole virtuous act??

Anyway. So we’re going next week. I’m taking the kids to Milan on Sunday, getting them settled with my MIL, who, incidentally, is over the moon at the idea of having her grandkids to herself for almost a week and The Husband is joining us there on Monday as our flight is on Tuesday (one of the major things that sucks about living where we live is that the closest big airport is in Milan, which makes travelling anywhere into a big two day production). And the cherry on top of this particular cake is that my Mom is joining us there for a couple of days. So to recap: the kids are spending a week in a place the thought of which gets them more excited than Disney Land, The Husband and I get to fly to New York in business class (company paying, and did I mention, no kids?), we get to stay in a nice hotel, I get to go shopping with no one breathing down my neck and asking me if I really need one more pair of shoes, in fact, I get to go shopping with my mom who likely will be all like, you really need another pair of shoes to go with that dress you just bought, and other than possibly a couple of work related dinner engagements we get to do all the stuff we didn’t get to do in Houston this past winter. I’m feeling pretty good about my life today. Of course, I have a whole host of insane worries that I’ll share with you soon enough. But for now, well, the sun is shining, the weather is finally a little warmer, and I refuse to think about the bad stuff, today is all about the blessings. Of which there are many.

p.s. this blog turned one year old this month, and my last post was the 100th post. So lots and lots of bloggy milestones!

Spring, Dinosaurs, and the Unrelenting Vise of the Female Menstrual Cycle.

Posted on by
5

So Spring has sprung. I’m ambivalent about spring, I love it and hate it, I love the sunny, warm, winter is over, burn the down-jacket, want to spend time outside on the lovely blossomy flowered fields days like today but I hate, hate, hate, the chilly, wet, dreary, windy days that show up every other day. Spring is a schizophrenic season. I never know what to wear!

I ditched the house today in favor of coffee with a friend. I felt bad about it, I even cancelled an appointment last minute (an appointment that I actually had completely forgotten about), I just couldn’t bear the thought of talking about anything construction related. It’s beautiful out, I needed a break. So I had coffee with a friend (after the gym, so I wouldn’t feel too bad about it) and then we went shopping for kids’ clothes. Shopping for my children is surprisingly satisfying, for roughly the same amount of money that I would spend on a single pair of (very nice) shoes for myself I bought each of them several really cute, springy, outfits.

Tomorrow we’re taking the kids to see the Walking with Dinosaurs show. It looks amazing, though I’m really worried that it’ll be too scary for them and the Husband and I will have to take turns standing outside with them… considering how much the tickets cost I’m seriously praying they’ll love it or I’m going to get an earful.

There’s no spring break here, so next week the kids are off for a very long Easter weekend, basically from Thursday to Tuesday (included), and since I just realized this I have organized not one thing to keep us entertained and not-homicidal. Also, my babysitter whom I love, whom the kids love, and who could almost always help me out in a pinch (like when the kids are sick she comes over in the morning even for just an hour so I can get out of the house and not go completely stir crazy) has managed to get her dream job (as a preschool teacher… to each his own!) so her available hours are now very limited. And I’m very sad. Obviously I was “completely delighted” and “so happy for her” when she told me, and then I spend the evening staring forlornly at my wine glass. The Husband went so far as to ask if she would be good as an assistant, so he could hire her mornings and I could get her afternoons… but she’s found her “dream job”… dammit!

Anyway, back to Easter, one of my sisters has an apartment in Berlin, which she rents out to tourists and in a kismet-y turn of events the apartment is free and some friends of ours are going to Berlin for Easter weekend so I figured we could go as well… if only I could find a way to get there without having to take out a loan (flights to Berlin are more expensive than one would imagine) or drive for 15 hours…

I’m in the middle of one of the most painful periods I’ve had since I “became a young lady” back in the late eighties. The Husband yesterday was found muttering something along the lines of he doesn’t understand how women don’t admit they’re pms-ing while they’re pms-ing and only apologize for it later and what the hell good does that do… or something along those lines. What he doesn’t understand is that the feeling of having one’s uterus in an unrelenting vise, while feeling faint, headachy, and just generally disgusting, is not conducive to accepting male wisecracks of any sort, in fact my gut (ha, ha) reaction is to slam his balls repeatedly with a bat or other such object.

Lastly, I want a new car. And though I realize that buying a new car (and by new car, I actually mean used car) when in the middle of the longest, most expensive, god-awful house renovation of all time is probably not my most genial idea, still, I want a new car. I now have a Prius, I love it, I’m happy with it, but I need a bigger car.  We just don’t have much choice as far as “mom cars” are concerned, here in Italy. I like the Renault Espace, it’s a seven-seater, it’s big enough but still park-able. Now if only I didn’t have to rob a bank to buy it…

 

Ok, I’m done with the weekly ramblings. I apologize for my overly enthusiastic use of quotation marks in this post, and though I should also apologize for the excessive use of alliteration, I won’t, cause there’s little  I love more than alliterating when I write.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend!