March 5, 2015
While preparing for our time in Italy, I was under some
strange delusion that I would have more time to write while soaking up the
Tuscan sun and frolicking through the vineyards. My children would willingly
clean, sweep, and wash dishes while here because even mundane tasks are better
in Italy, right? Wrong. Whoops. My bad.
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| Ponte Vecchio photo cred to Anna |
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| Giotto's Campanile next to the Duomo |
Don’t get me wrong, I have been taking notes and thousands
of photographs. I’m fairly certain that I could write at least a short book on
the amazing experiences we have had in this country. But those castles on the
hills around us? Those fairy tales ended long ago, most of them an illusion. So
did this one. You see, our life here is messy. It is real. It is raw. It is
living together in a small apartment 24 hours per day. It is two racks of
laundry drying in the dining room/ living room/ kitchen/ office/ home school room
ALL OF THE TIME. And guess what? As messy as it is, I’m so glad we’re doing it.
Matt and I both agree that we are getting to know our
children on a much deeper level in the absence of the influences of school and
friends. I can now clearly see that Anna NEEDS time with her new Italian
friends to recharge and connect. She
spends an hour at recess every day with the kids at the private school on the
campus where Matt teaches. The thought
of missing that time sends her into a supercharged tweenage meltdown. She
grieved the temporary loss of her friends at home deeply those first few weeks.
I’ve also learned that Grant NEEDS quiet time alone or one-on-one with me or
Matt to recharge and reconnect. He is his mama’s boy (hello, classic
introvert). He misses his friends from home, but not in the same was as his
sister. There are so many intricacies of their personalities that shine brightly
when illuminated against the blank canvas of life in in a foreign land.
That said, I strongly discourage anyone from purposely
placing an eight year-old boy and his eleven year-old sister in the same
bedroom for four months unless absolutely necessary. They fight. Like never
before. They fight like cats and dogs. Oil and water. It is a potentially
lethal combination that I do not recommend. Pre-teen hormones and rowdy little
brother antics DO. NOT. MIX.
Then there are the other times. The times when they
collaborate to create a minecraft world with the Boboli Gardens, Italian
trattorias, piazzas, Venetian canals, paragliders (we see them often on the
mountains), castles, and the Hotel Montegrappa. They talk of adding the Eiffel
Tower to “add a little spice” in Grant’s words. It is in those moments when I
realize that this experience will only be fully appreciated when it comes to an
end. While looking back with those rose-colored glasses. Anna told me on the
drive home from her dance class this week (yes, she’s taking classic ballet
three hours per week!), “You know, Mom. I don’t really miss my friends any more
the way I did, and I think I’m actually going to miss it here.” Going home will
be bittersweet, indeed.
While in Florence last weekend, I asked Anna if she would
like to buy a small leather purse since Florence is the birthplace and heart of
the Italian leather industry. She had been asking for a leather journal like
the one I purchased in Venice. I was planning to buy her one in Venice if she
couldn’t find one in Florence. Her response was so typically Anna. “No, mom. I would rather have the journal than a purse.
You know, because the journal is something that I can pass down through the
generations about my experiences here.” My response to my little old-soul
daughter? “Ummm… I would buy you both if you wanted.” When in Rome… or
Florence.
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| Anna on the Ponte Vecchio with the Duomo in the background |
Then there is Grant, my little art aficionado (thought he
would never admit it). He has been reading ALL of the Percy Jackson books while
in Italy, and is the first to identify the Greek gods in paintings or
sculptures. He was in his element while identifying artwork salvaged from Pompeii.
Then there was Florence. There we stood in the Galleria dell’Accademia admiring
Michelangelo’s “David.” That shepherd boy really is quite spectacular in person.
Like a good tourist, I read to the kids about how David supposedly appears to
display different expressions as he faces the giant, depending on where you are
standing. As we circled the massive masterpiece, Grant commented, “Oh yes, from
this side he looks scared, but from over there he looks angry at Goliath.” He
studied every inch of that Renaissance man.
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| Grant and David |
There is only one piece missing from this Italian adventure
and that, of course, is our sweet Tai. Sometimes I worry about what we are
doing, bringing that sweet boy into a home filled with chaos and sibling
rivalry and parents who lose their cool. More than once Matt and I have said to
the kids on this trip, “You CAN NOT act like this when Tai comes home. He will
already be scared and overwhelmed. THIS
will not work.” But THIS is what family is all about. It is about losing your
head and asking for forgiveness. It’s about forgiving because you are forgiven.
It’s about holding on during the fits, caressing a tear-stained cheek, and
repeating again and again, “There is NOTHING you can do that will make me stop
loving you.” So yes, our life here is messy, but it is littered with memories
to last a lifetime.
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| Lighting a candle for Tai in Santa Maria del Fiore |
