Balancing Act

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On Saturday, we visited Villa Torlonia.  It has a rich history, but I was mostly intrigued because this was Mussolini’s pad from 1925 – 1943.  He rented it from the Torlonia family for one lire per year.

10.7_balancing_two cool dudes

This was the backup plan.  I originally concocted grandiose plans of taking various forms of public transportation down to the Colosseum.  But after I constructed a plan, I realized it sounded miserable and scrapped it for a walkable destination.

So, you want to see Mussolini’s house?  BAM.

10.7_balancing_fronthouse

You want to see the back of the house?  BAM.

10.7_balancing_back house

The villa, which is basically a park, had a lot more to offer.  For example, the Casina delle Civette (House of Owls) is a random building that served as a “respite from the main property.”

10.7_balancing_owl house

10.7_balancing_owl house closer

It’s folly-rific.  Called house of owls because of the random owl stained glass and other decorations.

See random owl

See random owl

We didn’t go inside the House of Owls.  Or Mussolini’s house.  I wanted to, but someone had other plans.

Who me?

Who me?

Basically, tickets cost money and would have covered both houses.  We probably could have managed to tour one without meltdown, but I didn’t want to pay for both houses and then only make it through one.  If we pushed, we could have done both, but would have ended up with cranky, hungry people at the end.  (Not just the toddler.)

And Henry was having such a lovely time with the palm trees.  After he initially didn’t want to go into the palm grove because it was “too dark,” he found some giant palm fronds and conscripted his father into service.

10.7_balancing_palm frond

So this is the dilemma.  This is always the dilemma.  On the one hand, we saw something new and were having a lovely day at the park.  On the other hand, it would have been nice to see more.  We were already there.  The tours might have been fine.  Or they might have turned an otherwise fun outing into a disaster.

The question is always when to push.  When to go for it.  And when to just enjoy a nice day.

This time we opted to relax.  Which worked for me.  At least that day.  I just need to remind myself to go for it sometimes.  When it makes sense.  When we really want to.  It will always be easier to do less.  But sometimes we need to do more.

Family ruins selfie

Family ruins selfie

Wine tweets (Vol. 2): What I’ve been drinking*

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*Descriptions from a wine/beer lover who is really bad at talking about it

Want more wine tweets? See here.

The good

The good

Starting on the left, the Toscana was one James let Henry pick out at the grocery store.  Natch, he went with the red lion.  This was medium-bodied.  It was just ok.  Definitely drinkable, but it didn’t have the rich mouth feel I wanted.  #notreallyspecial #toddlersommelierfail

We had the neighbors over for drinks after the kiddos went to bed.  You know the cool, lived-all-over-the-world, no kids neighbors?  They brought this wine.  Of course, it was amazing.  They claim it was a grocery store find, but I haven’t tracked it down yet.  Smooth, inky, delicious.  #wontyoubemyneighbor

This Dolcetto d’Alba is my favorite Dolcetto yet.  I think.  We had two in close succession.  One was outstanding, the other was meh.  James claims this was the good one, but I’ll need to track down another bottle to see.  If it IS the good one, it is medium, fruity, good mouth feel.  Everything you’d want in your dolcetto.  #everyday #versatile

The Teroldego on the right is one of my new faves.  Another super cheap grocery store find.  James tells me I can’t get this in the U.S. so I should not get too attached.  Another smooth wine with a great mouth feel.  (Noticing a trend here?)  #repeatbuy #mustimportteroldego

The OK

The OK

The Est! Est!! Est!!!, from a region with a charming back story, was Italian adequate.  Meaning good, drinkable, but a little forgettable.  I think this one was on the fruitier end of the spectrum.  #enjoyedbutnotblownaway

The Frascati is one of the rare local wines.  The only word that really came to mind for this one is “light.”  It wasn’t very sweet, very fruity, or very dry.  It was just pretty light.  This sounds underwhelming, I know, but it wasn’t bad.  Definitely a refreshing wine to drink when it is hot out.  #summer #laziolocal

I had high hopes for this one because I am a sucker for bottle art.  In the end, I was disappointed, but mostly because of expectations.  I thought it would be on the light and fruity side, but it was more like chardonnay.  And I was not in the mood for chardonnay that day.  As far as chardonnay-ish wines go, it was ok.  I thought it improved on the second day.  James thought it got worse.  #thelobsterledmeastray

The ugly

The ugly

Which brings us to the lone beer of the group.  Hats off to the folks at nabiretta for making beer in Italy, but I was really disappointed.  This one started off ok, but went all wrong as you swallowed.  I wouldn’t call it homebrew-y because that would be an insult to homebrewers.  Of course, I was disappointed by the lack of hops, but the malt just tasted off.  #didnotfinish

P.S. I’m not off my whole30; it just takes me that long to get around to writing these up.

 

Confessions of a mono-dresser: I only wear one shirt

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Let’s be clear.  I don’t only have one shirt.  I have multiples.  And technically two colors.  But same shirt.  Lemme ‘splain.  Here’s the story of how I went full-on Michael Kors.

Back when I was on maternity leave with Henry, I only seemed to want to wear one shirt.  This shirt, in fact.  Don’t be fooled by its presence on the website.  It is no longer available.  They keep it up to taunt me.

See with Henry, it was fall.  I like to let my pants or jacket be the star of the outfit.  I’m usually wearing a scarf.  Maybe a necklace.  My pants + shirt + blazer + scarf recipe worked out great with the same white shirt.  And since I was doing laundry constantly, it was usually clean.

But once I realized it was the only shirt I wanted to wear, I thought, why not get more?  Alas, it was too late.  The shirt was gone, baby, gone.  And I have been on a epic white tee hunt ever since.  (Call me Ahab.)  I tried other Lands End Canvas shirts (just not the same), Gap shirts, and even small mens’ undershirts.  I contemplated expensive joie shirts or venturing to Japan with uniqlo shirts, but never pulled the trigger.  I have googled and read more “perfect tee” lists than I care to admit.

See, the perfect white shirt can’t be too sheer.  It should have a nice neck that would work with necklaces.  Some drape is nice.  I prefer a pocket, but that’s a personal choice.  And if you are doubting whether white is a good color with kids, I think white is an unsung hero.  Spit-up doesn’t show as much.  And my baby oxiclean has been adequate so far, but you’ve always got the bleach option.

Finally–when I was exploring harem-ish pants at Old Navy–I stumbled on a contender.  Enter the Drapey Pocket Tee.  (It is no longer available in white, but this one is similar.)  The day it arrived, I knew I had something I could work with.  Not too sheer.  More flowy and drapey  than stiff.  You can’t really see it on the website, but it has a nice mullet effect that I like to think gives it a little style, but is also helpful for feeding a baby.

Enter the shirt

Enter the shirt

You can guess what happened next.  I immediately ordered many more.  In white and black.  In two different sizes.  I did not want this to be the one that got away.

Now in black

Now in black

And my shirts and I lived happily ever after.  It made packing a cinch.  I have one or two other shirts in the mix, but I probably wear this shirt 90% of the time.  I love not having to think about it getting dressed.  I don’t think of it as laziness so much as efficiency born from knowing what I like.

Same shirt, different day

Same shirt, different day

The only catch:  when I started dabbling with mono-shirt on my first maternity leave, it was fall.  Now it has been warmer.  I’ll pull out the scarves and jackets soon, but it has just been too hot.  This means my shirt is front and center.  People here must think I only have one shirt.  Luckily everyone has been too nice to comment on it.

Ah, with jacket . . . note the mullet

Ah, with jacket . . . note the mullet

Are you into “mono-dressing” or does it sound awful?  Ever bought multiples of a favorite piece?  Ever tried a capsule wardrobe like a 30×30 or a Project 333 Experiment?

P.S. I tried picmonkey using my friend’s tutorial for the first time.  Uh, why wasn’t I doing this sooner??

My Mission Statement

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In his 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen R. Covey talks about creating a personal mission statement.  It’s been awhile since I read the book, but my remembering was that this is what is core to you.  It is helpful because you can evaluate all possible activities and actions against your statement.  Does it further your mission statement?  Great, move forward.  No, move on.

I’ve been puzzling over this.  Here is my current bare bones mission statement:

  1. To enjoy time with my family and go on many adventures with them.
  2. To be a thoughtful and considerate friend.
  3. To take steps to improve my writing.

This is a little light, I know.  There are other concepts I’ll have to capture with a more developed statement (faith, charity, etc.), but this is my start.  I thought about putting something on learning Italian, but this feels like more of a temporary goal and I’m not sure how much I want to focus on that overall.  Yes, I want to get better, but I’m not sure it will be a big focus.  More on this later.

This start is why I recently embarked on a whole30 and am committing to exercise and more sleep.  I know it doesn’t say anything about this in my statement; however, I’ve realized I need to take better care of myself to make the mission work.  If I’m tired, I could miss out on something fun with the kids.  I’m not as patient as I’d like to be.  I probably won’t send that email to a friend.  And I may nap instead of focusing on writing.

Hopefully this helps.  The whole30 may turn into a whole14 or even a whole7.  (Because, I mean, PIZZA.)  But I’m looking for a reset.  I’ve been spending too much time in “vacation mode.”  Sure, sure, you can stay up and read.  There’s only a little bit of wine left in that bottle.  Why not have gelato every day?  You get the drift.

Much of this mindset is because it really hasn’t sunk in that I live here now. I live in a foreign country.  I live in Rome.  James and I turn to each other almost every other day and ask “can you believe we live here?”  The other day–just for a moment–I thought about driving to Annapolis on Saturday.

I’m sure this will wear off at some point.  Probably sooner than I think.  I do plan to enjoy everything this country has to offer–including plenty of pizza, cheese, and gelato.  Maybe just every other day.

Do you have a mission statement?  What does it cover?

 

Another reason I need to learn Italian

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Besides needing to stop trying to shoplift produce and to stop talking about multiple anuses, I have another reason to learn Italian.  I have a very beautiful child.  This isn’t just biased mom speak here, although I certainly am that.  I know that he is beautiful because the Italians keep telling me.

Irresistible to Italians since 2014

Irresistible to Italians since 2014

Typical scenario:  picture me huffing away pushing the double stroller.  Usually elderly Italian walks up and coos at the kids.  Sometimes they just flip me a “Complimenti” and walk on.  Other times they want more of a chat.  I just smile and nod while my brain is going a hundred miles per hour to try to keep up.  I once told the little old lady “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”  She nodded and just kept talking.  In Italian.  I usually try to throw in a few “Henry, say ciao” or similar to hopefully signify that I do not speak the Italian and I am not purposely trying to anger everyone here over the age of 60.

Enjoying said free sucker

People give Henry things.  Our first time in a restaurant, the waiter rolls up with a ball of dough on a plate and sets it in front of Henry.  And then sat back just to watch what happened.  (Henry licked it and then set it down.)  We walked past a flower stall and the man pulled out a rose for Henry.  He got a free sucker at the panini place.  The kid is racking up freebies.

Henry currently draws more attention, but Mac also has a devoted following.  He had a pretty resounding cheek squishing at the pizza place and then the lady stalked him down the street for additional squishing when we paused to chat with a neighbor.  I can’t really blame her.

You can't resist the squish

You can’t resist the squish

A surprising number of people have asked if they are twins.  Mac is big, but not that big . . .

Adorable? Who, us?

Adorable? Who, us?

So here is my blanket apology to all the Italians I am not properly responding to as you compliment my children.  Learn Italian.  I’m on it.  In the meantime, I am flattered, and I hope my smile and heartfelt “grazie” do the trick.

 

What is your personal Snickers?

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The rest of our stuff should be showing up in the next week or so.  We did a pretty good job packing.  I really haven’t felt deprived.  But of this collection, I am most excited to see:

  • The kitchen trashcan.  Our place came with a trashcan.  It has a step on lid that doesn’t really work.  The bag doesn’t really stay on.  And it is so very small.  It looks like a bathroom can.  Even with mandatory recycling, I feel like the thing fills up every time I blink.  Frequent emptying is probably a good thing given the lack of garbage disposal, but it currently seems a little ridiculous.
  • Tissues.  I also miss nice toilet paper, but I can’t remember if I packed any.  The pipes are so old here that Italy has just decided not to let people have quality paper products.  (My working theory anyway.)  Years ago I had a household ban on tissues.  Why bother if you can just use TP?  And then I rediscovered the pillowy softness of a high quality tissue as it caresses your nose and have not looked back.  Surely there are tissues here somewhere.  I’m just having trouble finding them.
  • The boys’ cribs.  We have loaner cribs right now.  These have been perfectly adequate, but they have bars instead of our chunky slats.  I feel like there has been more pacifier escapage.  The loaner mattresses are so thin you could probably fold them in quarters.  This has made changing sheets easy, but I’ll be glad when they have their nicer mattresses back.

Someone told me that when their daughter was in Italy, she craved Snickers but couldn’t find them.  So her mom would send care packages with Snickers.  I totally get missing things, but Snickers surprised me.  This is the land of chocolate and gelato!  I may have an unhealthy relationship with Kinder Chocolate that I have been indulging.

But now that I’ve been here for a bit, I’ve had a chance to think about what may own “personal Snickers” is.  I do have a few.  Unlike the above, these things are not showing up with our stuff.  Many of them couldn’t come even if I wanted them to.

Grocery delivery.  In the year before leaving DC, we converted to Relay Foods disciples and never looked back.  Before, we had been doing double grocery store duty at the local Giant and then Whole Foods to get the nice meats.  Enter Relay Foods.  They would deliver Whole Foods/farmers’ market quality food right to my front door.  Granted, you were paying WF prices, but I thought it was pretty reasonable.  We paid $30/month for unlimited delivery.  You just filled up your virtual cart and they would deliver it the next day.

I miss it so much.  I feel like I am constantly grocery shopping.  1) We need more food because we’re eating at home more and 2) I have to take more trips because we can’t carry that much.  It’s either what I can carry myself or shove under the stroller.

I’m talk more on this later, but grocery shopping is a pain with both kids.  The stroller is unwieldy.  If I take the stroller, where do I put the groceries when I’m shopping?  I’m hoping some day that Henry can walk there and back, but you just never know with that guy.  And then I’m stuck carrying stuff until I find a personal grocery cart we can buy.

Hops.  They do have beer here.  There is a whole aisle in the store.  But it seems to be pretty much a lager party.  I miss good-ole-American-punch-you-in-the-face hops.  We’ve heard there is a developing craft beer scene here.  I’ll report back when I encounter it.

A variety of takeout options.  Where we lived in DC, we could get a range of takeout or carryout.  For $15-40, I could get Thai, Mexican, Sushi, Greek, Vietnamese, Chinese, or Indian for the whole family to eat in the comfort of my own home.  Which is key with the small kids.  We do restaurants, but it is nice not to have to do restaurants, you know?  And we do lots of cooking, but sometimes you just don’t want to cook.

We had been warned that Rome does not have international cuisine and this has been largely true.  There are two Chinese restaurants in our neighborhood.  We’ve heard of a Mexican restaurant across town.  I’m sure there are others, but you definitely don’t have your pick of everything a few blocks away.

I swear I’m not sick of Italian food yet.  Just in this one instance of takeout.  It would be great to have something other than pizza or panini to grab when we are feeling lazy.  The pizza and panini are pretty amazing.  But OPTIONS.  And you never know if the pizza or panini place is actually open, but that’s another post.

King bed.  We had a king back home.  We opted not to take it.  Our place here is furnished so it didn’t make as much sense.  Also, others told us that it wouldn’t fit.  Even if it would fit in the room, they might not be able to get it into the place it would have to be abandoned by the roadside.  I figured this could be a good chance to test drive a queen; wouldn’t our room look so much bigger if we opted for a queen later?

I miss it so much more than I expected.  I’ve slept in plenty of queen beds.  They aren’t that much smaller, right?  WRONG.  It seems fine to start off.  But the number of times I have woken up about to fall out of bed is more than I’d care to admit.  The day I wake up on the floor is coming.  I’ll make sure to tell you about it, probably in a post with an ill-advised name such as “Queen are the Worst.”

I’m sure there are others, but that is what I’ve missed the most in the first month.  What is your personal Snickers?

They have how many what now?

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Strides have been made on the Italian learning front.  Longer strides for James.  He did a week-long, three hours/day Italian survival class.  I would have too, but you know, kids.  I’m pretty impressed with him.  He was in the more advanced group and their teacher, a 4’10” fantastic dresser from Naples, does everything in Italian.  He’s been holding his own and then some.  Apparently after he was a little tired one day, his classmates told him to get his act together for the next day.  Because who else who hassle the teacher about all the grammar rules that don’t make sense?

On the home front, we had our first meeting with our Italian tutor this week.  The plan is for her to come once a week at 2000, then watch the already sleeping kids so we can date night.  I really want conversation practice.  I need someone to force me out from behind my books and duolingo lessons and make me say something–anything–in Italian.  Our first session was pretty light on this, but I have hope for the future.

And I definitely enjoyed the date night part of the evening.  James and I hopped in a cab and walked all around downtown.  And maybe ate a little gelato.  I was enjoying it too much to take pictures, but we went from the Pantheon, through Campo de’ Fiori, and over to the Campidoglio.  It was beautiful.  Hard to describe, but it really looked like a movie set.  Gleaming cobblestones, beautiful people bursting out of sidewalk cafes and restaurants.

Ooo . . . look . . . a blurry picture of me with a cat

Ooo . . . look . . . a blurry picture of me with a cat

But back to the Italian.  Our tutor emphasized that you must pause between double consonants.  This means “oggi” (today) is really og-gi.  She noted that lack of the pause will change the meaning of a word.  It reminds me of SNL’s Nuni and Noonie sketches.

James also discovered this during his class.  During an interview your neighbor and share exercise, James told the group that his partner has 36 anni (years).  The teacher immediately stopped him to explain anni.  I’m having trouble picturing how this was done in Italian, but she said “it’s not good” and there was some hand gesturing.  Turns out, anni is the plural of anus.  If you want years, you really need to say ahn-nee.

I cracked up pretty hard.  And then I thought, “Holy tootknockers, do you know the number of people that I’ve told that my son has two anuses???”

 

I have too many tabs open

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Happy Friday everyone!  Because all of my tabs are seriously jeopardizing system performance, I wanted to share some links and musings with you.

I can’t stop listening to Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off.  This is not necessarily problematic, but because I am a Luddite, I listen to music on youtube.  And I have to stop and watch this video.  Every.  Time.  It cracks me up.  Krumping ballerinas.  Nuff said.

 

Where to next?

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Some time this past summer, James and I (and Mac) ate lunch at Old Ebbitt.  We were running errands and managed to duck in right before a torrential summer thunderstorm.  I was more than happy to sit and eat my fill of oysters.  Since getting to Europe feels like half the battle, we used that meal to brainstorm on our  travel wishlist.  You can see it over on the new I want to go to there page.  I’m sure the Italy list will grow quite a bit as we talk to more people and read more Rick Steves.

We have a pretty good idea on what we aren’t trying to see.  Granted, we wouldn’t turn down trips, but these things feel pretty well covered.  We spent 8 days in Paris at the end of 2010.  We did Normandy then too.  I’d take the kids there to see the beaches if they were going to be a little older.  And eat oysters, of course.  We’ve done London and Edinburgh.  We’ve been to Prague.  We’ve done Florence and Venice.  As much as I love the idea of seeing Henry chasing the pigeons in St. Mark’s Square, I love the idea of not having to be on canal watch 24-7 more.

It’s an ambitious list.  To make a dent, we’d have to be planning a major trip at least every quarter.  Now that we are planning our first big trip–looking at the Christmas Markets in Munich and Nuremberg this December–I’m feeling completely overwhelmed.  I can barely move my children around this city.  How will I move them among, around, and between more cities?

To break down the parts: we would need transportation to the airport, a flight, transportation to location, train to a second city, and then everything in reverse.  I know this can be doable.  I swear we traveled when it was just Henry.  Right now two just feels overwhelming.  I really should borrow someone else’s child for a bit.  After three, I’m sure two would seem fine.

So where to go when?  Once our car situation is straightened out, I’m hoping to start knocking out close towns in Italy.  The Shroud of Turin is only on display next April to June.  The Palio only happens in July and August.  Scandinavia would probably be a summer thing.  I’m thinking of running the marathon in Berlin, which would be next September.  I spent Easter in Luxembourg with a friend once where I realized you could hike the whole country.  I guess we should do that stat when we can carry the kids or at the end when they can walk more?

Either way, we need to get to scheduling and get to traveling.  The Island of Elba has already been recommended to us.  What else are we missing?

 

Coloring outside the lines: can it be taught?

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I recently finished Rules of Civility.  Set in NYC in 1938, the main character is a spunky gal making it on her own.  I’d recommend the book for many reasons, but the protagonist particularly impressed me when she went after a job in a nontraditional fashion.  Instead of brushing up on her cover letter, she stalked her hopeful boss at his lunch spot, pretended to be meeting someone else, and then dropped a novel of mutual interest on his table.  I’ll let you read whether the gambit works.

Granted, this is fiction.  But these things do happen in real life.  Take this guy: post WWII he borrows money to buy a new car, drives it halfway across the country for a business meeting, parks it strategically, is all like “oh, you like this car,” and gives the car to secure the distributor contract.

I would not do these things.  It isn’t just that I wouldn’t do it; it would never even occur to me to do them.  Take Martine Rothblatt as another example.  There are about a billion examples in this (lengthy) article, but it would never occur to me to start my own religion.  That just seems out of the bounds of things that one can do.  (I guess I am not honoring my Lutheran heritage by thinking that way.)

Or Bill Murray as another one.  Running up to people on the street to warn them about a lobster on the loose just isn’t something you can do.  Right?  (I know, I know, tell that to Billy Eichner.)

The Confidence Code, another recent read, talks about how women are generally great at school because they are good at following the rules; however, rule following may not serve you well in the real world.  The book also mentions that women tend to ruminate about things more, where a guy could just shrug it off and try again.

My confidence is a little on the low side right now.  Some of it is from navigating a country with a foreign language and different customs.  Some of it is from learning how to juggle two kids in public.

I’ve decided to work on this.  I’m thinking about a series of “confidence challenges.”  Baby steps.  Things like purchasing produce at the outdoor market, getting a cappuccino with the kids, taking the kids on public transit, and actually going to the weekly playgroup across the park.  Besides making myself do more, I’m also going to try not to beat myself up about them.  If an Italian occasionally thinks I’m a clueless foreigner, this really should not be a big deal.

This morning at the grocery store, I transacted with the seafood guy.   A first.  Baby steps.  And you never know, by next year I could be approaching random Italians at Villa Borghese to warn them about runaway lobsters.

 

 

confidence code

street market