Day 1

Wow.  Arrival.  Day 1.  Our first full day in Rome.  We all tried to go to bed last night early (around 8pm), giving ourselves the most chance to ‘sleep at the right time.’  It didn’t really work.  Violet was up from 12am to 2am, constantly getting out of bed to checking our phones to see what time it was… and she couldn’t figure it out.  Rachel’s phone was still on Seattle time and my phone was on Rome time.  Compounding the confusion, she heard ‘people partying in the streets’ in the Campo dei Fiore – and thought “it can’t be midnight, there is a party going on down there!”  Yes, my girl, it was midnight and there were people partying.  She is learning so much.

At 2:15am, Eloise woke up and started crying because she was “Bored of sleeping!”  Couldn’t blame her.  So we got up and read four ‘Fancy Nancy’ books… on the couch.  Then Rachel came out too!!... Violet was now zonked out.  Finally, Eloise went to sleep in our bed, sleeping stretched out like a starfish in between us.

 I was woken up by someone poking my face… saying “Its 9:30am … you slept until 9:30!”  Everyone else in the apartment was up, so apparently, I had to get up too.

 The other faculty had left some food for us the night before – milk, pastries, fruit, etc – so we had plums and a small tartelette for breakfast before venturing down to the market to engage the excitement.  There were so many things all at once – filling water bottles from the fountain, seeing the fruits and vegetables on display, getting sold to like “Yes, hello, hi, I have something for you, yes, come see…”  We bought plums, oranges, and a chopped vegetable mix. 

We walked to Piazza Navona (nice sculpture, Bernini) and then to the Pantheon.  Most things tend to be smaller in real life than in memory – except the Pantheon.  It’s huge!  The temple front is huge!  The line to go in it was … also huge.  We will go in another day.  Massive brick and stone details, huge columns – amazing.

Just outside we got lunch:  pizza bianca panini con prosciutto cruddo e mozzarella, pizza bianca con prosciutto cotto e mozzarella.  A mix of salty and creamy, crunchy, chewy, warm.

 At the recommendation of Katie, the Rome Center intern, we got gelato at Fatamorgana.  Two, double-scoop cups: straichatella & crema di limone, limone & bacio de principe (hazelnut, with Nutella)

 We went to two grocery stores, got toilet paper and eggs.

Dinner – we went out to ‘Origano’ a small place and got our classic ‘welcome to Rome’ dishes:   spaghetti carbonara, spaghetti alle vongole, pizza con funghi e crudo, and an ensalata medeterrena. All very good… but a good reminder that going out to eat with kids is not simple – in Seattle or Italy…. But they did well, and 'The Carbonara Kid' lived up to her name. --Tyler

New adventure

It’s been a year since I’ve written.  I guess we’ve been busy, but I think also I’ve felt inclined to be intentionally a bit more private lately.  With the world spinning into a black hole, it’s felt natural to want to pull my family under a blanket— Away from social media, away from flashing lights; diving deep into the sanctuary of our home.
But we are about to embark on a great adventure, and I want to record it.  
So here we are, on the blog again.  

There are so many things on my list.  Everyone needs good walking shoes.  Everyone needs a good coat.  I have to figure out the cat, the hamster, the mail, the phones, schoolwork, dentist appointments, eye appointments.....it goes on and on.  Bird by bird, every day, another task done, another breath closer to Rome.  

Summer 2017

The summer of 2017--
When I covered a piano with an octopus and fish and bunnies.   And we all went to visit it in the park.  And then--
The next day we brought a hamster home in a tiny cardboard box.  We named her Pop Tart.  We fed her seeds.  My children fell in love.

Meanwhile Canada caught on fire.  We left Seattle, drove south, and didn't come out of the smoke until somewhere south of Portland.  We saw the redwoods on that trip.  We made our way back home on roads through my childhood; places of happy moments; and I wonder, did they notice that I'd grown?   I remember so well that earthy red from when I was a child there.   The color of the sun translated through the forest-fog.  The color of the bark and the soil.  Brown and red.  Going on and going up into the sky forever.  I see that color smiling at me mischievously, unexpectedly in other places in my life.  It's the color of my older daughter's hair in the shade and her eyes staring into the light.  Chestnut.  Sienna.
And where the forest thins in the brightest moments of the day, the strings of redwood bark blaze like fire and oranges.  Now I see my Eloise.
In those trees I am a child and a mother all at once, and there is only peace.  

But it was in the pine forests, later, in August, where we stood and watched through black and foiled lenses, the complete eclipse of the sun.  The scene composed of dust, scrub bush, ponderosa pines, and cypress.  Not quite mountains, but larger than hills.  This is the home of horses and labradors.  
The children held their glasses mounted in paper plates up to their faces.  They ate raisins.  We all waited.  First the sun became a cheese with a bite.  Everything dimmed.  The temperature plummeted.  Then, finally, darkness.  The sun is a hole in the sky, surrounded by diamonds.    We could see the shadow from miles away, blanketing the mountains, coming toward us; a magicians cape breezing over top of us.  A wave of black silk.   It was dusk in the middle of the day for roughly 40 seconds.  A planet shone, the birds went silent.
And then it was done.  

Also this summer-- My older daughter went to day camp.  She made a lanyard.  My younger daughter discovered the joys of glitter glue and produced an astonishing amount of art-sculpture.  
I neglected all of my plants.  We missed the exhibit at the art museum, but we filled the kiddie pool with rainbow bouncy-house balls, and as I stuck my feet into them I thought, this very well could go on forever.  This could be infinity, although I know it can't, not really.  Because August is the last laugh of summer.  

Finally, almost as a postscript, Tyler and I managed to sneak away for four days to celebrate our 10th anniversary.   We remembered what it's like to explore a city by scooter, and stay out late sampling oysters with a whiskey fizz.  We remembered.
And then we came home and soaked in the sleepy sweet smell of our girls' cheeks.
Tomorrow is the start of school.  Tomorrow we will find our routine again.
But tonight is one more game of checkers.    

Never-ending Rain

I can’t believe how much rain we are getting this year.  You would think that I would be used to it by now, having lived in Seattle for nearly 12 years.   But the days are long when you have a toddler, and she only likes to wear her tutu and nothing else, and doesn’t want to go outside because her tutu might get wet.  

We listen to the soundtrack of Oklahoma at least twice a day.   She builds beds out of cardboard boxes for her stuffed bunnies.  We eat cheese.  

Still, the rain continues.  

Reflection on life and death and life.

It’s weird when someone close to you dies.  I don’t really know what it is I believe in, but I find myself looking up to the sky and thinking if only I could see far enough, there you would be.  Or if only I could see close enough, to see all the little bits and pieces that make up the space between the air and sunshine, there you would be.  

But then i’m looking at the grass, watering my plants, and I see a cricket, a lucky spark, a green in the green, and I think of you.  I think maybe you aren’t in the sky.  Maybe you are so much closer than that.  Maybe you are every where, we just can’t see you so well anymore.  But if we pay attention, your sparks are still there.  Because if I can still hear your laugh in my head and remember exactly what it felt like to sit next to you on a picnic bench, with your sweatshirt on, your shoulders tall and friendly against mine— then are you really gone?  

Those we love and lose live on within us forever.  It's a truth.  

I wonder how you are experiencing the world now.  What marvelous winds are you traveling on.  Maybe you are the wind itself.  You can leave all the earthly details to us-- I'll fully take on the responsibility of loving orange cats, and the color purple, and potato salad.  Someone else will have to take on your love for Earl Grey Tea.  Enjoy your wings.  Enjoy your fluidity.  Enjoy the light.  

You can warm the pebbles on the beach.  I'll collect them in my pocket.  

Turning 2

Turning 2.
There's something especially special about this second child of mine turning 2--
Maybe I've realized, really really realized, that a finger snaps and time flies by. Soon she'll be sitting at the counter doing homework and wearing athletic socks.
So we're relishing-rejoicing in this moment.

I love so much this flouncy little pixie.  Her orange glowing head lighting the way; she pads through the zoo in a pink tutu dress-- because Eloise doesn't care a penny what any of us say-- she'll wear pink doggonit, and she'll wear it like a beast. And as a second time around mommy, I let her eat cake and wear pink and watch cartoons just a little more than I did the first time around.  

Happy 2, my darling 2.  You've given me the gift of a lighter heart every day of your life.  Keep doing what you do; use every shade of pink in the box, love all the bunnies everywhere, sit on the steps and eat your measuring cup of peas.  Do all these things the way you do them best.  You are Eloise, and I love you, little big 2.

  

Turning 7

7 is everything.

7 is still wanting to play with dolls and stuffies.  7 is a little scared still at the movies sometimes.  And 7 is snuggly early in the morning and at the end of a long day.  

But 7 is also so big. 

7 is reading chapter books by the boxful.  7 is helping with everything around the house.  7 is climbing so high in trees, running so fast on the soccer field, and inching up taller, taller, taller, to just below my shoulders.  7 is best friends, monkey bars, bike riding, piano playing, chess winning, skirt twirling, orange peeling, bus riding, dreaming big big BIG.
No teeth.  Adult teeth.  A freckle here and there.  Sunshine in your eyes and smile, shaggy bangs, tangles, braids.  Stocking feet and sneakers.
  

7 is a ladybug; sweet and mighty, the brightest little bug you've ever seen.  

7 is everything.