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.

This post makes no sense because I wrote it with a gaggle of whining kids in the background.

Does two kids count as a gaggle?

Anyway. I’ve been feeling guilty about not writing for quite some time, but everything that comes into my head lately is either too depressing, too boring or would need fifty pages of explanatory preamble to make sense, so I haven’t been writing. But then today I decided to just stop feeling guilty and just write something already. Anything. Cause I like this blog and I don’t want to let it go off into inexistence quite yet, but each day that I ignore it, with a hundred and one supremely valid yet nonsensical excuses, makes it all the harder to go back to it.

I seem to always hit a certain degree of mal de vivre and of regret whenever I come back to Italy from a trip to Houston. I hate boohooing, I made a conscious choice to stay in Italy when I married the Husband and though we had always planned to move to the States I knew that there were no guarantees. And yet, all I’ve been doing since I’ve been back, nay, since before I even left Houston, is hating on Italy and letting all the little irritating things of everyday life become big, huge mountains that I have no will to face.

The truth though, if I really sit and look at it, is that there are just as many things that potentially would irritate me about living in the U.S., were I living there, because, no place is perfect and unfortunately the grass is always greener in the yard where I am not. (Did that sentence make any kind of sense outside my own head?)

Unfortunately, when I get myself into this funk, I tend to blame the Husband. He’s the one that’s making me stay here, it’s his fault, if only he hadn’t tricked me into marrying him… as if I had no free will…

So he’s been bravely, and somewhat resignedly, bearing the brunt of my bad behavior (I really intended to write mood here, but I simply cannot resist alliterating when I can), and I’m trying half-heartedly to return some semblance of sanity and reason back into my life. Because, despite what I would have me believe, Italy is not the antechamber of hell, it is a perfectly pleasant, though somewhat eccentric and often baffling country to live in. A country where logic and reason has no place (just look at the politics, or rather don’t, cause it’s depressing but that’s just an example) but that has many other qualities which I won’t enumerate here because I’m not there yet even though I’m now aware that there are good things, and I’ll soon start appreciating them again.

For now I’ll try to ignore the fact that both my kids managed to get sick after less than a day and a half back in school and the insanely cold temperatures and snow storms that hit just in time for our return home whilst diverting all of my attention to one of the regions main assets. The wine. 

All I want for Christmas is--- Monday Listicles

So I’m back from taking the week off from blogging. Although, I didn’t really take the week off from blogging as I went around and read (and tried to comment on) all my usual blogs. I guess I just took the week off from writing. I don’t know how I benefited from it apart from going to sleep a little earlier every night. Anyway, I’m easing back into the swing of things by joining in with Stasha, a.k.a. Northwestmommy for Monday Listicles. Today’s prompt is the ten things I hope for this Christmas, which should be easy enough as all I’m doing lately is revising everybody’s Christmas wish lists and writing Santa letters.

What I hope for this Christmas:

1. Sleep. The girl appears to be sleeping better, this past week she hasn’t woken up every night so I’m hoping this keeps up, improves even, and most importantly doesn’t all go to hell from the jet-lag when we go to Houston this year.

2. A bra that fits. The single most terrible thing about living in Italy is that they don’t measure bras in cups and inches (or centimeters), and it’s pretty hard to find a cup size larger than a C. So I usually end up having to buy a cup size that is too small or, in the rare event that the cup size is fine the band is too big. Since I haven’t been back to the US in three years and have been pregnant twice since, you can imagine what state my bras are in. My first stop as soon as I land is a lingerie store. (And target, no one’s keeping me away from target).

3. A book. And not just any book. I want to find a really good book, and I want to read it all the way through in one sitting. And it has to be an actual paper, real book. For once, I’d like to just take a few hours and read a book uninterrupted instead of maniacally thumbing through my kindle in line or in a waiting room, cause it seems I only ever read on electronic devices nowadays at the post office, at the grocery store, in the doctor’s waiting room…

4. Someone to organize all my movies, shows and music. My one and only New Year’s resolution last year was to declutter my life. I’ve managed to do some of it, still working on a lot, but what I haven’t gotten around to, and frankly have no desire to get around to it is organizing my movies, shows and music. And since chucking it all in the trash is not the answer, I need someone to just come over and do it for me. Ok? Thanks.

5. Find a school I’m happy with. I knew this was going to be an issue sooner or later, but honestly I expected it to be a little later. I don’t like the Boy’s preschool. I’ll get into the whys and hows another time. I’ve talked to them again, but if I don’t see some serious improvement I’m going to have to look for a different school and I’m not all that hopeful cause I’m afraid that what I take issue with may just be a cultural thing and not something I can fix. But I want him to enjoy school, I want him to be happy. He’s going to be in school for a long, long time starting now, and it has to be a positive experience.

6. A house. We’ve been renting for a really long time. In fact we’ve been renting forever since I’ve never owned a house. We’ve been looking at houses for the past twelve years (I’m not kidding), we saw hundreds of apartments in Milan and we’ve seen many, many houses since we moved out here in the middle of nowhere. So it’s time. I want to find a house that doesn’t make me vomit and that I can afford. How friggin’ hard is that??

7. Shoes. As I’ve mentioned I own quite a few shoes, but as I get older I’m less willing to settle for second best. So this year for Christmas I want a pair (or two) of really comfortable high heels, that make my legs and ass look great, but (and here’s the clincher) that don’t hurt my feet if I stand for longer that 13 seconds.

8. Abs. Without breaking a sweat. Enough said.

And now the last two, serious ones:

9. Happiness. This one’s two-fold. I want my children to be happy. I want to know they’re happy. I don’t want to spend many a waking (and some a sleeping) hour worrying about their happiness. And I want to find a way to make the people around me a little happier. I’m not being all altruistic either, I’m want this for me, because if the people around me are happier than I’m happier and more relaxed.

10. Health. Lately it seems all I ever read about is the great vaccine debate (which, incidentally, I now feel compelled to write about, so be warned you’ll find a ranting post in the near future), but I gotta tell you, I don’t give a crap if my kids (or I for that matter) get the flu or the chicken pox or whatever else that’s not life threatening but just a massive pain in the ass. I do, however, want the husband to be healthy. And I don’t want him to be healthy for now, or not get sick in Houston or anything short term. I want him to be HEALTHY. I want leukemia to be a forgotten word, somewhere in the distant past. I want him to be healthy for a really, really long time. In fact, I want him to die of old age when we are so decrepit that death seems like a new and exciting adventure. I want him to see his great grandkids. So Santa, or whoever, forget the rest of the list and just give us HEALTH. I can take care of the rest myself. Thanks.

So tell me, what’s on your Christmas wish list?

I wasn’t killed by a turkey

So, I didn’t suffer a fatal attack of indigestion after thanksgiving, which, incidentally, we celebrated on Sunday here because it’s not a holiday weekend in Italy. I know, why?  

Anyway, just wanted to let y’all know that I’m on hiatus this week. I’m tired and have no writing in me. So, instead of putting out half-assed crap for you to read I’m turning in early and catching up on my shows, hopefully this will get the creative juices flowing (and, more importantly, unclog my tivo). Or something.

But I’m not leaving you high and dry… I have pictures for you. Thanksgiving pictures. Because now that you’ve finally finished off the turkey leftovers and are starting to forget the family drama you absolutely need me to bring it all back to the top of your minds. You’re welcome.

Thanksgiving 2011 

Despite being in Italy, away from home for most of us, there was food:

the spread

yeah, baby!

dessert.... (the healthy fruit salad? just for show!)

And festive mise en place:

The womenfolk in the kitchen:

All the men cleared out when we mentioned carving the turkey... wimps!

Friends relaxing together:

The little kids. The big kids weren't all that keen to be photographed.

Love:

and lollipops:

 And outdoor fun

Mischief:

I'm not sure what she was getting into, but her who me face says it all!

 And dishes done:

me, in the kitchen

And lots and lots of this:

See you next week!