Funny and frustrating things that make me question my sanity

On the funny side: For whatever reason that is incomprehensible to me, the Boy has managed to bang his head on some surface in the kitchen every single day this week right before leaving for school. I have no idea how he does it, one minute we’re all: ok, shoes on, finish your juice, let’s go! And then: whack! And screaming and wailing.

Yesterday he banged his head on the counter, today he banged his head on the door. He was walking backwards. That could be why he didn’t see the door… but why was he walking backwards? Every day, I tell you. I just don’t get it, and I hope it’s just this week or his teachers are going to call social services on me.

On the frustrating side: One of the reasons I stopped working when I had kids was because I was exhausted at the idea of yelling and coaxing people to do stuff all day only to come home and have to do the same thing with my kids. Because, honest to God, I don’t understand how people in Italy work. We’re buying a house, in point of fact we’re buying a stable from the 1600’s and converting it to a house… this actually sounds way more historic and romantic than what it is in reality. We’ve been having some delays on the actual buying part but as the bureaucracy in Italy is biblically long we’ve decided to go ahead and get all the plans ready for the restructuring and hand them in to the proper authorities so they can take their sweet time to give us approval and let us start the works. What I don’t understand is this: I’ve been having to call the architect to task weekly, he makes excuses, he sheepishly tells me he’s sorry and there will be no more delays, he calls my husband – because apparently I’m too scary – when a delay that’s not his fault happens, today after I called him he told me that the plans I was supposed to see yesterday will be ready on Monday. I don’t get it, I’m not his mother and yet I feel like it, with the coaxing, the wheedling, the negotiating and the yelling. And this is what any type of construction work (or really any type of work where you need to get anything done) is like in Italy. Why can’t people just do what they say they’ll do? I’m already exhausted at the idea of what the next few months of my life will be like.