The Balcony

This is the view from our balcony. However, the static image doesn't capture what this view is to me. It's really the sounds that remind me of where I am. The sound of the kids in the school, the scooters, the chime of the teacher's whistle...I've spend so much time here, in so many stages of my life, that after nine years (my first time in this apartment was June, 2003), the sounds are nostalgic for me. This apartment, this view, it brings back a myriad of memories.  

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oChAXBS8EHw&feature=g-upl

My first memory of this balcony was upon walking into the apartment before I knew Francesca. I was here by myself, awaiting the arrival of a bus load of Nebraskans who would be here for Benedetta's wedding. I remember trying to find Francesca and walking into what felt like a hugely expansive living room (before the renovation it was almost double the size it is now). The walls were covered with a sort of green, velvety, striped wallpaper which made the walls leading up to the 12' ceilings appear to go on forever. There was a wall of bookshelves, completely full, that covered an entire side of the room, all the way up to the ceiling. Because the room was sort of dark, the books gave it the feeling of a library. When I walked in, Francesca was sitting by herself watching tennis. 

The second memory, about 5 days later, brings back the excitement of the first few days I realized I had a crush on Lorenzo.The fore-mentioned Nebraskans had arrived, the living room was full of them, all male, all circled around an immense block of hash, almost exactly the dimensions of a red brick. Lorenzo was sitting by the door of the balcony, smoking (before my persuasion and the birth of Ella encouraged smoking outside of the Roma house), and I remember making pretty intense eye-contact for the first time. That moment will never leave me. 

The nostalgia of the sounds of the school bring back memories of many hazy mornings during the same trip. After we had all stayed up all night, most nights, all of us Americans, too busy drinking and walking the city to sleep; the sun would come up while we were all standing on the balcony ending our night. After going to bed around 6am, the summer heat and the sounds of the school would wake me promptly at 8am, leaving me in a fog the rest of the day. Five or so espressos later, I was usually cured of the fog.

I love this balcony. I love the memories, the far newer memories of watching Luca learning to crawl in front of the open balcony doors, now playing with Sabina on the same floor. I remember after Benedetta and Trevor's wedding, sitting in the kitchen, exhausted after a full day, all of us eating leftovers from the wedding party. I remember watching Trevor talk with Francesca, Italian rolling of his tongue with ease, laughing with Lorenzo's friends, completely comfortable inside of the culture. I remember thinking, "He is so lucky. He married into such a cool life. I want that." I don't remember that thought having anything to do with Lorenzo specifically, I just remember thinking how different his life was from other people I knew who were married. That it appeared so much more exciting and fulfilling. 

I love this side of my life. I love the family I've fallen into, the family Lorenzo and I are now a part of together and the life of memories that will surround this balcony through the life of my children and maybe even my grandchildren. Now that I've had this moment to stop and breathe, I can revel in my blessings and in the dream I've managed to manifest for myself. For it really was a dream of mine to be able to speak another language and to have a reason to travel throughout my life. Yes, I can judge where I am in my life at nearly 40, I can get down on myself thinking I should be more or should be doing more. But this part, this part I'm happy to celebrate. 

Now that I have a little time on my side, what other dreams can I manifest? 

Roma Redux

And another adventure begins. Two years after our sad departure from our time living in Rome, we're back. With baby in tow again. It's like déjà vu, the good kind, when you search your brain for the familiarity and trace it back to an incredibly happy, endearing dream. The time we spent here with Luca as a baby has become a fantasy I want to recreate. Despite some of the emotional difficulties I faced in acclimating to the culture as a new mom, the time here was one of the few moments I've felt like I was my best self for a period that extended beyond those fleeting vacation days spent abroad. Those vacations only suspended my reality long enough for me to imagine a life without a work grind, I was never able to actually manifest that life for myself. The 8 months of suspended reality, living as an ex-pat, thinking it was a longer term life change, it forced me to find daily inspirations and to savor every moment I didn't have to compromise. I got to focus on being a mom without feeling the entrapment of that identity because I had a job. But the job was the first that I could leave behind when my hours were completed. But the time spent at work felt incredibly fulfilling and worthwhile. I was teaching English, which was far from a step forward on paper, but it allowed me the chance to connect with people as people and not as strange business colleagues. I had full autonomy to design my daily lessons and I dedicated myself to figuring out the best way to give people what they were ultimately looking for - a way to connect with people in a different language. I was so entrenched in that dilemma myself that it felt good to share my experience in real time and to teach people to avoid the obstacles I had tripped over more than once in my learning of Italian. Needless to say, my suspended reality will come to a close as soon as everyone wakes up here in a minute, as having kids keeps you from ever really being on vacation. But lucky for me, travel insomnia allows me to engage my inspiration and try to capture it before it scurries away when my mind gets cluttered with feeding and changing schedules. I'm not sure what to anticipate from these 5 weeks, as I'll be juggling work through three of them, but somehow this feels like a big change, like a crossroads is on the horizon. The frantic and frenetic pace I've been trying to uphold over the last 5 months since I've written a word here, has dampened a big piece of my spirit. It's the piece that reminds me I musn't be complacent and think that my story ends as my kid's stories begin. I want to be an example of what is possible, not what had to be left behind. I refuse to put my head in an oven. I'm in a new developmental milestone, one I'm beginning to believe comes for everyone right around this time. It's a turning point where our expectations of where we would be at this point in our lives leads us to judgement instead of celebration. This place is the hardest thus far, but also the most rewarding. I'm learning more than I have since my early twenties. I'm trying to figure things out again, but with many more tools at my disposal. I like this moment. Three weeks of working nights will be tough, but my daily responsibilities (pick-ups, drop-offs, babysitter/daycare schedule coordination, packing lunches, getting everywhere late), these tasks have been reduced so much that even after 14 hours of travel with two kids under 3, and no sleep, it feels like a vacation. And for me, despite working, it will be. My life as it has been over the last six months is not one that I want to return to. Things will change after this trip, I will no longer be running myself ragged the way I have been. I'm too old, I can't bounce back from that level of stress the way I once could. And fuck it, why should I try? There are better ways. I shouldn't have to run the race I've been running. Being here, with time on my hands, I am bound and determined to find them. And P.S. I realize the formatting is rough, it's 3am and I'm on the iPad and I'm too tired to figure out line breaks.

Good kids, good wine, good times

It's amazing what one night out and a good bottle of wine can do for your spirits. Plus, a good bottle doesn't leave you with a hangover in the morning which is even better. On top of that our beautiful children let us sleep in until eight, so overall, I'm feeling pretty f-ing good. After three difficult months, it's about time.

It's not what you think. Yes, two kids can be tough, but my problems are all physical. But when you have enough physical issues, they start to take their toll on your attitude and outlook, and mine has been a little bleak as a result. So let me briefly recap the list of ailments I've had to contend with since September. Mastitis. Twice. Fever included. Strep throat - two weeks. IUD insertion + minor complications. Shingles. Yup, shingles. And my first period at exactly the three month post-partum mark, which means it fell on the exact date of my last period - December 25, 2010. Then let's not forget the "normal" things one has to contend with post-pregnancy: six weeks of bleeding and cramping, boob pain, and a ridiculous amount of hair loss.

I'm not complaining, but I am telling the universe that whatever it was you wanted me to learn by all this, it's learnt.

Now that the shingles have cleared up, while I wait to see if I passed that archaic virus chicken pox onto my kids, I am enjoying another glass of good wine to keep up the inspiration I experienced from my big night out. Inspiration that came from a dinner that started at the very adult dinner time of 8:30 and continued for hours amidst a conversation that cemented the love I feel for my partner and my teammate in this life of raising human people.

If you are one of the lucky people to have found that person who you always want to be with, you've had these conversations many times over. The conversation that spurs that feeling that someone finally understands you and all of your tangents. The conversation that creates a bubble around two people fading the background into a dull hum. The conversation that makes you feel like you are in exactly the right place at exactly the right time and that you are still learning and growing with the help of this other person.

When you live together, as Lorenzo and I have for the past 7 + years, although you know that these conversations can happen, they get shadowed by the daily conversations that are critical to survival. "What are we going to eat.", "Will you take the baby while I go to the bathroom?", "Did she eat?" And then there are the truly important conflicts. "Can you please pick your underwear off the bathroom floor?", "You forgot to put the clothes in the dryer." "Where did you put my bag? You always move my stuff." Boring, necessary, routine and annoying. The moments that drive people to look for excitement elsewhere. But when you really consider this person to be your family, there is no moment when you think you won't be with them, despite the conflicts and boredom. And when the kids stop needing your breast every hour, when you can drink wine and speak adult-like again, when you can remember what you need, when you can cement your love with inspiring conversations, your partner can remind you of your best self. You start to remember how much you like to sing in the bathroom because of the fantastic acoustics, you dig out those books that light the sparks of your soul for a moment, you start a nightly routine of Motown dance parties with your two year-old, you talk with your partner about your dreams and ideas and about how you are proud to be a parent with them. And things get better. Shingles get forgotten. Life feels right. One moment at a time.