Dreams

My family is Puertorican and I grew up with a funky mix of Catholicism and mysticism. I had to go to catechism and mass on Saturdays or Sundays, but ghosts, spirits both good and evil and ways to deal with them were also thrown into the mix. Dreams were a big part of my daily life - each morning my mother and I would tell each other our dreams from the night before. I think those were the few times when I had my mother's undivided attention - she wanted to pick up on any little sign both literally and symbolically that my dream had to say about what was going in my world or what could possibly happen in my world. With her coffee cup close at hand, she would pour over her well-worn books on dream interpretation. Snakes and cats of any kind were bad - white horses and beautiful flowers were good. My mother had many dreams that came true and if I hadn't heard them first from her before it happened, I probably wouldn't have believed it. Growing up in Puerto Rico and Panama - I can't really explain it, but the tropics were just the perfect place for the dream state, for spirits and a parallel yet hidden and mysterious world.

Now in my older more cynical age, I don't take much stock in dreams anymore and I actually strive as part of the Kundalini side of my yoga practice - not to dream. Dreaming keeps my brain in an active and awake state and doesn't allow for the benefits of deep, dreamless sleep which after what feels like 8 years of continuous breastfeeding and cosleeping - I really need! I find that when I don't remember my dreams, I feel much more relaxed the next day. That said I do still dream and I have recurrent dreams - one in particular is of elevators. Usually going up - thank goodness, because this is good, but more often than not - weird elevators. Elevators that go sideways and around curves. Huge, massive elevators and elevators that shake.

Giulia and Paloma really like retelling their dreams and this always make me think of my mother. Since she is so far away and knowing how alone she is and how much she loves the girls, I wish now more than ever that we could have that precious time once again at the breakfast table.

Back to school

Today was the first day of school at St. George's Nomentana. It felt a bit strange to be walking with only one daughter to school. As the names were called out for each class, I felt a bit left out that Paloma's name was not one of them, but at the same time hearing the names of the other children in her class - I felt relief that she is having a different way of learning this year. Paloma has been with the same children for the last 4 years and her class is full of children who are - shall we say in a nice way - "difficult". Not just one, but many of them are kids that take up a lot of the teacher's time and attention while quieter children like Paloma get left to fend for themselves. After just one day of homeschooling I already notice how relaxed she is, how curious and energized she seems. Steve taught her today and she didn't want to stop. On our way to pick up Giulia, she couldn't wait to see her sister and at the same time was asking question after question about things that interested her. This is new for me to see with Paloma and exciting. Last year, we more often than not had to deal with her crying on the way to school and depressed on the way home saying what a horrible day she had. I know all days won't be like today, but I have a good feeling already about homeschooling Paloma.

Guilty mother blues

We all have them - why do I feel like I have them more than most? This complete disconnect I feel sometimes with my own children? Everyone else seems to be a better mother, a more involved mother, a more caring, loving, sympathetic, understanding, compassionate mother. Other mothers don't yell. Other mothers don't want to put 10 kilometers of road between them and their offspring - do they? If you feel like I do, than don't go to this blog - it will only make you more depressed.

Goodbyes

Tomorrow some good friends leave Rome for good, returning home to Brooklyn after a year here spent researching, living and enjoying life alla Romana. Jennifer and I met on the Expats in Italy website - an excellent source for those looking to move to Italy. They don't beat around the bush on that site and frequent posters tell you like it is - the good and the bad. Jennifer wrote a post about neighborhoods and then about schools which I responded to and somehow we just clicked electronically. In the end her and her husband, David and their two children ended up living about a 10 minute walk away from us and their oldest child, Lee, went to the same school as Giulia and Paloma. We became fast and very good friends.

In our business we say lots of hellos and lots of goodbyes - so many people in and out of our lives that we lose track of the time. Someone might have stayed with us several years ago and to us it seems that we just saw them - their familiar face just one of so many familiar faces. Our lives are filled with many other more transient lives - in the international community many people are just here for a few years and then they are gone. Some are in Rome simply to experience Italy for a brief time - a sojourn from their "real" lives back home.

We've lived here almost 10 years, birthed 3 children, established two businesses - we're here for the long haul. Yet even that long haul has to give in every once in a while to our restless souls - next year will be our own, albeit temporary, goodbye to Rome. After the year, we'll be back though - already thinking of starting an agriturismo, but more on that later. We try to stay present, but there's always that one foot cautiously dipping and feeling the waters of the future.

Countdown

2 weeks and 2 days: Giulia starts school again and we begin homeschooling Paloma. We didn't reregister P at St. George's Nomentana and instead are trying this grand experiment.

1 year: we move to Bali for one year so that the girls can go to this school, Steve can surf and I can sweat.

I'll keep you posted.

Golden Time Part 2

Can you believe it - Steve took the girls to the beach again today!! Two days in a row of Golden Time - what a man! So what have I been doing with my day? Well, more of the same - trying to put things in order, iron, make dinner. I'm about to have a cold cappuccino - my summertime afternoon ritual. Oh yes, it's exciting times here in the Eternal City.

Golden Time

At Giulia and Paloma's school, there is a time each day devoted to "golden time" - a time when the children can do whatever they like - play games, sit and read, draw, etc. Much to Giulia's chagrin, Steve and I have claimed this word for ourselves as a time when one of us is without the children and is doing something solely for ourselves.

Today Steve took the girls with him to the beach with our friend David and his children. I've been getting our own B&B at home ready for an arrival, ironing and doing all those things that are so incredibly monotonous and mundane, but that take on a whole new meaning of peace when doing them without having to give into the demands of three young children.

On my favorite podcast, I recently heard this remarkable poem that is perfect for today even if I'm not laying in a field somewhere. It's called "The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver.

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Happy Birthday Giulia!

My beautiful girl turns 8 years old today. It seems just the other day I was in the midst of a horrid 41 hours worth of labor to get her out into the world. The experience was brutal and I ended up having post-partum complications too. Yet in the end I had HER. Giulia loves to hear her birth story, but most of all I think she just likes knowing how happy we are that she is here - that she is wanted and loved - no matter what. Happy birthday superstar girl!

Insomnia Blues Part V

Oh, it's been a while. The heat is a bit too much, our ceiling fan is doing little to alleviate it tonight. I can either catch up on my movie trailers which is the closest I get to watching (or even wanting to watch) a movie anymore or I can write, so here I am.

This summer hasn't been all I had hoped. I'm at my wit's end after a month of daily fighting, whining and crying from Giulia, Paloma, Viola or all three at the same time and sometimes all before 9:00 in the morning! It's been tough. To make matters worse, we are all cooped up inside - my many attempts to get them out in the garden thwarted by mosquitoes or the heat. Steve leaves for The Beehive early in the morning - he's been covering in the cafe and at reception for staff who are taking holiday and I've been stuck at home with the girls. Public transit is a nightmare in this weather and I still don't have a license and besides, Rome has few options for children most of the year and even less in the summer unless you want to leave them in a summer day camp (tried it once and they hated it) or go to a pool and I just can't pay €25 every day (that's entrance fee times 4). The beach would be a fun diversion, but without a license.... I'm annoyed at myself for letting that one slide and there's no way to even think about going through the process again for an Italian license until September. Many shops in our neighborhood are closed until 1 September and I think even the bus drivers are on holiday - I waited 20 minutes the other day for an express.

Besides the heat, the prospect of homeschooling Paloma this school year is proving to be very daunting and keeping me awake this particular night. I keep going back and forth between thinking we should go a classical curriculum to no curriculum at all (unschooling). Just when I think I've got it all sorted out, I read something different or Steve comes up with a new perspective. We found a tutor who will be coming once a week to teach her piano, maths, voice - whatever floats her boat I guess for that meeting. Steve and I will split the rest of the week.

In the background lies our upcoming adventure to Bali which we have already started planning. We're going to go for a year -August 2009 to August 2010 - so the girls can attend this school and Steve can surf to his hearts content. I'll try to go to bed now and hopefully thoughts of tropical heat and maths worksheets don't keep me awake.

28 July Leonard Cohen in concert

Amazing! Thank you, Leonard.

Losing my marbles

It's been a long summer and we still have another 5 1/2 weeks to go before Giulia starts back at St. George's and we start homeschooling Paloma. This season in the hospitality biz has been weird thanks to the weak dollar. Many of our colleagues in the budget sector are closing shop and/or selling. A lot of people are worried - us included - about this coming winter. We're due to celebrate the 10th anniversary of The Beehive in May 2009 and we're just hoping we get a chance to see it. Because of the uncertainty, Steve does not want to spend any money unnecessarily. This is the man who will completely take apart a blender, toaster, computer, washing machine, air-conditioning unit - whatever, just so he doesn't have to replace it. And more often than not, he fixes it.

So because of this fear of a long, hard winter, we've put holiday plans on hold and have been hunkering down in Rome which is a difficult place to be with three bored little kids. At the beginning of July, we did spend one week in our beloved Puglia (Valle d'Itria area) that was much too short and now we've been here. We've spent an afternoon seaside in Tarquinia - the beach scene here is little to be desired, but it was so nice to have fresh air and be near the sea. Steve takes the girls to the Villa Borghese when he can and the girls have tried (and hated) a day at a centro estivo (summer day camp) at the zoo. For the most part they have been bickering and fighting and feeling bored and I've been slowly losing my mind at the sound of three children who aren't getting along.

I've lately had such an urge to do things with them that I used to do as a kid. Unfortunately, Rome isn't set up for softball or badminton so I decided to try another direction. I loved playing marbles as a kid - jacks too and hopscotch, two square and all those summertime games that you could literally wile away hours and hours doing. We've been playing a lot of card games together - and Steve and I even have a summertime ritual now of gin and tonic with a lovely wedge of lime in the evening and crazy eights before bed.

I thought it would be fun to teach the girls how to play marbles (biglie in Italian), but as I started to make my way from one toy store to the next to the next, I realized how much I was living in a time warp. Today's kids don't want to play marbles - or perhaps not that they don't want to, but as shopkeepers told me, if it doesn't run on a battery or can be downloaded from the internet or played on a Game Boy - there's just no demand, so they don't carry them. I kept running into dead ends, but I was on a mission and I refused to think that I was going to have order them on-line. Finally, someone suggested that I try a cartolibreria - the stores here in Italy that sell paper products, office, school and arts & crafts supplies and wrapping paper. After going to a few of them and being looked at with pity, I discovered one on via Nemorense that sold wooden versions of different board games and lo & behold - marbles!

I'm looking forward to showing the girls how to play, but considering how long it took me to find these I don't think we'll be playing for keeps.

Happy Birthday Paloma!

Today Paloma turned 6 years old. It doesn't seem that long ago that my little doodle was born. My pregnancy with Paloma was such a blur, but I do remember it as the time when Steve and Giulia bonded. I weaned Giulia during those first few months of my pregnancy as it was too fatiguing for me to continue and she was ready anyway. Steve used to take her out a lot to get her mind off of breastfeeding as well as giving me time to myself - to sleep and take it easy. During this period, I would often catch my reflection or a glimpse in a mirror and then suddenly remember I was pregnant. The first pregnancy is the most self-indulgent - after that, you just don't have the time.

I could have easily had a home birth with Paloma (and Viola as well), but I was still shell-shocked from my attempt with Giulia so I never considered it again. When I discovered I was pregnant with #2, I called my midwife, Valeria, to tell her the news and instead of telling me congratulations, she was actually quite negative about it and said she couldn't believe it since I had been so adamant against repeating the birth experience. Well what woman in the throes of labor doesn't say she will never ever do it again??? Because of her attitude - my hormones raging and feeling rebuffed, I decided to choose someone else to help me.

An acquaintance highly recommended Evelina Alpi, an Italian gynecologist, who had a practice in San Giovanni which was conveniently located near Celio our former neighborhood. I would take the bus down once a month, wait in the waiting room for at least one hour (she was always late), be told that I was gaining too much weight (very typical thing to say here in Italy to pregnant women), but told more or less that everything was fine. After several months I found out that she smoked. Being an ex-smoker, I find smoking by anyone in the health profession to be an intolerable hypocrisy, but at that point, we were too far along for me to consider finding someone else.

On the morning of 13 July 2002, it had been an entire night of slowly losing my water. With all three pregnancies my water has broken in a drip, drip, drip, drip manner that lasts overnight. I went to see my midwife, Oriana, who worked for Dr. Alpi. It turns out I was already 3cm dilated and didn't even know it. She told me to go home, have a light lunch and come back around 2pm, but that if I started to have contractions at anytime in between to come as quickly as possible to the clinic. I went home, had spaghetti alla carbonara (so much for light), relaxed a bit and then headed to the clinic.

We met Dr. Alpi and Oriana in the delivery room. Dr. Alpi checked me and I was already 5cm without feeling so much as a twinge. She suggested putting me on oxytocin to get the ball rolling - in retrospect, I'm sure so she could have the night off. They put the IV in and then both my doctor and midwife decided to go downstairs (we were on the 4th floor) for a coffee and cigarette in the bar. They even asked Steve he wanted to come. As Steve and I sat there, chatting and making jokes, I had a slight contraction and felt that I had to urinate so I asked if he could help me with the IV to the bathroom. After a minute or two, I stood up and as I stood up, I felt a contraction like I have never had before - it literally felt as if I had been thrown through the ceiling. I sat back down and yelled to Steve that the baby was coming, but I was in such pain and such shock I couldn't move. Unknown to me, he was looking around in the hallway and there might as well have been tumbleweeds rolling past - no one was around. Finally, he found a nurse and told her to call Dr. Alpi down at the bar.

Steve and another nurse managed to get me to the bed and Steve tried to put me in one of the many more natural birthing positions like I had used for Giulia, but I literally could not move. The baby's head was crowning and they had to throw me on the bed and I sat there like a bug that's rolled over on it's back - my entire body was stiff, in a state of shock. In less than 15 minutes, Paloma arrived and unknown to me at the time was born blue as she had the cord wrapped a couple of times around her neck. Also unknown at the time was that the IV drip had not been locked so when I moved to the bathroom, the oxytocin came out in a full rush - so essentially I was overdosed on it.

My first full glimpse of Paloma's face made such an impression on me - her little brows knitted together in a look that said - "Why am I here? What's going on?" - a look that has lasted to this day. She's my quiet girl - those still waters run deep - and these past 6 years have unfortunately gone by so quickly and I guiltily cannot remember a lot that passed when she was a baby. Looking back, I think I suffered a bit from post-partum depression although I didn't know it at the time. It was a confusing period for me and I wasted a lot of time on worthless projects.

But not anymore. Steve and I are homeschooling Paloma this coming school year. We have many reasons we want to do it, but one of them is in hopes of really getting to know her better. Paloma is so free, so sweet and so alive - I am excited about exploring her world together.

Dancing girl

Since Giulia was 3 years old she's been taking ballet classes at her school. She loves the music, the movement, the costumes! This school year culminated with her taking part in her first recital. Here she is after the event - all rosy cheeks and smiles.

Abnormal behavior alla Romana

I've got a few pet peeves - well, actually probably more than a few because as Steve reminds me again and again - I am what is known as a "control freak". Okay, so I like things my way - I admit it. However, with children, it's much harder to be in control so when you've got a family comprised of strong personalities in addition to the need/desire of my daughters to assert their independence - well, we butt heads a lot.

Children are one thing, but adult behavior is another. Maybe it's the heat, but I've been increasingly annoyed at several behaviors (misbehaviors) that I'm sure are not particular to Rome, but the likes of which I've never really experienced anywhere else I have visited. Here's a few that come to mind.

1. I am invisible. My daughters and I go into our favorite neighborhood gelateria. There's a bit of a queue so we sit on the benches directly in front of the counter to wait our turn. In typical Italian fashion - since no one knows how to form a line here - I instead take note of the people who are ahead of me which are only a handful. Woman in red dress walks in after us, looks at us and waits her turn. I can already foresee what is going to happen. When it is almost our turn, I pony up to the counter and sure enough, as soon as the clerk has finished handing over the change to the person before us, red dress woman pipes up her order and the clerk starts to serve her. I chime in that we were before her and they both act SO SURPRISED. This is the one that always kills me. I tell them that - oh, it's okay, I'm used to their kind of behavior. They, of course, try to act so civil so cultured - please, it was a simple mistake. I tell them - no problem, I like sitting around gelaterias with my children and not ordering. What gets me is the way Romans always act so affronted, so insulted - that it was an "honest" mistake. That they are the ones above all this and I'm just being an uptight foreigner. Please.

2. Doctors talking on the phone during a visit. I will NEVER EVER get used to this behavior no matter if I live in Italy the rest of my life. I have been in physical therapy appointments and left on the table as the therapist answers the phone. I have been interrupted countless times in the middle of explaining whatever health problem I have or my daughters have and then having to repeat myself as the doctor has lost track of what I was saying. I have been incredibly pregnant and nervous about some mystery ailment and had the doctor pick up to talk to a friend about dinner plans that night. Needless to say, I only visit the doctor if absolutely necessary and practice natural health care on myself and my children.

3. Getting run down on the zebra crossing. Not only do you have to wait and then practically throw yourself into traffic to cross the street here ON A PEDESTRIAN CROSSING, but people don't even slow down to let you finish crossing - they just keep coming. So heaven forbid if your child stops in the middle of the street or wants to back track for whatever reason. You learn quickly to hold onto your child's hand tight and drag them across because they will certainly get hit if anything unusual happens in a crossing. Depending on my mood, I cross ever so s l o w l y, just to make those assholes actually stop. I've noticed that people in Mercedes and Alfa Romeos are the worst. The statistic is that about 7 people PER DAY get mowed down while crossing the street here - so unnecessary. Several years ago, I saw a young Australian couple get hit on the crossing in front of our former apartment building. Thankfully, they were not seriously hurt, but what a welcome to Rome.

For Viola from Daddy

You often say, "Me happy!"
You say it with complete certainty and clarity.
You're so genuine. It was easy for you to figure it out.
You say it when the rest of us clearly aren't.
You might as well be saying, "I don't know why you four fuss all the time. I think everything's fine."

Where did you learn these words?
The four of us surely never said them.
If you were copying us you'd say:
"Me melodramatic"
"Me ultra fussy"
"Me perpetually unsatisfied"
"Me moody"

Sometimes you ask me too.
"Happy, Daddy?"
and I say, "Yes".
Though I don't say it with your conviction.

It's early in the morning.
It's my job to wake up your sisters, make breakfast, pack lunches, get them to school.
But this morning I don't. I let you all sleep as the school bell rings.
Today I decide I'd rather watch you and think about this,
and wonder if you will ever rub off on us.

Getaways

This past Friday, the film crew from an Australian travel show called "Getaways" filmed The Beehive for an upcoming series on "Budget Italy". If I'm not too embarrassed by our interview or if they decide to edit it away, I'll be posting the segment here in the future.

Changes

In 9 years, 9 changes I've noticed in Rome:

1. If you can believe it - there is more graffiti, more trash on the streets.
2. Everything is more expensive. For example, nine years ago Steve found a 3 bedroom apartment with terrace on via della Croce near Piazza di Spagna for 3,000,000 Lire/month (about €1,500). Unfortunately, we didn't take it.
3. General malaise - Romans have never been the most thoughtful or considerate of Italians, but in their more negative state of mind it's gotten worse.
4. Something positive - more organic markets, yoga classes, environmental fairs - extremely difficult to find 9 years ago.
5. Peeking into a pet shop window the other day - I noticed the availability of cat scratching posts. This may not seem like a big deal, but when we first moved here, it used to be a special order item that took several weeks to arrive. Now Ingmar uses tree bark in the garden at The Beehive.
6. Restaurants are adopting a slicker look, but the food is heading more and more below par. Still best to head to your local frumpy and tired looking osteria or trattoria for yummier and cheaper food.
7. The increase in affordable children's clothing and shoe stores. I used to have go to the ends of the earth to find decent shoes for Giulia when she was a toddler and I relied on my trips to the US for clothing.
8. Many more foreigners, but still less integration. It's so refreshing to head to Paris or London and feel, experience and see the multiculturalism. Here in Rome, there is still the mindset by many Romans that if you're from the Philippines than you are a housekeeper, if you are Eastern European, you work as an elderly caregiver and if you are African you sell tube socks or handbags. And let's not even start talking about the gypsies.
9. People are finally using the internet. There's an excellent blog for all happenings in Rome. The city public transit website is the only thing about the system that really works. When I first joined Freecycle Rome - I think I was only one of a handful of members. Now there are 1000+ members and I receive several e-mails a day. The list goes on and on. However, in true Italian fashion - it has now gotten harder to purchase anything over the internet on an Italian website. You must now receive a PIN from your bank for every purchase you make - and of course, it's not easy. My recent purchase for Leonard Cohen tickets had me ready to throw my laptop out the window.

How will the next 9 years be? If you had asked me back in early 1999 what my life would be like now - I would never have believed it. Perhaps I need to call that phone psychic in LA back - the one who told me I was making the right decision to move here.

Tripadvisor

As a small business owner in the hospitality field, internet forums like Tripadvisor cause me a lot of stress. The Beehive has 100 reviews and counting on it - pretty remarkable for a small Mom & Pop like ourselves. Thankfully, a huge percentage of these reviews are very positive. There are some reviews that are eloquently, thoughtfully and intelligently written, some that are average, and still others that are just plain stupid. There are also, of course, the reviews written by a former guest with a grudge and are just outright lies. I think most people can figure these out , but it annoys me when someone writes and ask if it's true. While annoying, I guess in a way it's great that they have this doubt and feel that they can actually write us. Anyone I've ever written is always inevitably relieved and on our side. Steve tells me I should stop reading these reviews, but I can't help it - it's quite addictive almost like celebrity gossip - a guilty pleasure.

Observation

I've met some mothers lately who seem to have forgotten what it was like when their children were younger. They are older or my age with older children, but usually an only child. I can see the uneasiness in their eye when I suggest that I bring my children along too. The e-mail I've written saying I'd like to bring along one of my daughters sits languishing in their in-box without a reply. They don't want to talk about any parenting issues because to them - it seems - that a certain way of parenting is over. Now it's just the occasional maintenance checks and now it's all about themselves not their child. They almost seem to have reverted back to their child-less days, looking at me and my breastfeeding and my fatigue not so much with empathy as with disdain. If it's someone I don't know very well, I'm often surprised to hear that they even have children. I'm curious to know if I'll become this way too.

Happy Mother's Day!

Today is not only Mother's Day, but a double day for us to celebrate - it's also the 9th anniversary of The Beehive. I'm eternally grateful for both of these transitions in my life - the one to motherhood and the one to self-employment.

The day started off with breakfast in bed - Steve's standard "Linda's special day" treatment that he reserves for my birthday and Mother's day and which I absolutely love. I never thought I would be the breakfast in bed type, but I really enjoy it and since it happens so rarely - it truly is a treat to be relished. Since we spend so little time in the bedroom, having breakfast brought to me there feels incredibly luxurious.

The big anniversary at The Beehive will take place for our 10th next year. Not sure what we'll do yet, but it'll be a fun party. Some good friends who are going back to Brooklyn in the summer have said they would come back for the festivities. It would be great to have family and friends here for that, but I know that's wishful thinking.

As it is my family forgets I'm a mother much less that Steve and I created a business too. No "Happy Mother's Day" ever comes from the direction of my brother or sisters. I think in their mind's eye I will always be "little stinky" as my brother calls me - the baby sister. I think for these last 9 years living in Italy I'm stuck in a time warp for them. We have such brief and sporadic contact as it is. Even though we like each other well enough - we've never been particularly close so they know nothing that goes on in my life other than the occasional reports and vice versa.

Mother's Day - besides thinking of my own mother and Steve's - inevitably gets me thinking about friends of mine who are also mothers especially my friends whom I haven't had a chance or much of a chance to see as mothers in action. To all my mommy friends out there far away - please know that I think of you all often - I truly do.

May Day

When I'm feeling down, there's nothing to lift my spirits like a beautiful spring day and the added bonus of an unexpected surprise in my in-box- a wonderful collage of photographs of my daughters done by a very talented friend. These photographs were taken this past December in Colorado Springs by my friend Tamera, a wedding photographer.

Holistic Moms

So for a while I've been wanting to meet and get together with other like-minded women here in Rome - women who were interested in environmental issues, natural parenting, social justice and spirituality. Women with whom I could talk about these things and who wouldn't look at me like I was a kook. A group of women who could at least understand and not think anything was wrong with the fact that I nursed Paloma until she was 3 years old and that Viola is at 2 years and counting. A group of women who wouldn't think the fact that my daughters don't drink Coke or Fanta and that we have no television reception is not bordering on child abuse. A group of women whom mentioning yoga, meditation, Buddhism and the fact that I want my children to learn more about the Jewish half of their cultural heritage would not immediately cause unease or eye-rolling. With this in mind, I decided to create a group called Holistic Moms.

On Monday, seven women I know came to our house to discuss their reasons for wanting to be part of a group like this. We each have our own degrees of "greenness", but my main goal is not make anyone feel excluded. I don't want to be militant - just educational, informative, social and pro-active. Community seems to be even more important to me now especially not being in the U.S. where perhaps it is very easy to create. There's a group, a magazine or some kind of commercial endeavor for any kind of interest you can imagine. It's not the same here.

Yet like-minded or not - I often feel like an outsider. For the most part at 41 years old, I don't care much what others think. I sometimes fantasize what it would be like to run into all those old boyfriends/lovers/unreciprocated loves now and how self-assured and confident I would imagine myself to be! However, with my own gender, the ol' self-esteem can take a real beating and I'm transported back to the 17 year old Linda who thanks to affirmative action and decent grades got a place in the freshman class of 1984 at Colorado College - a private and expensive liberal arts college in Colorado Springs. How young and naive I was! How ambitious and ready to tackle the future I felt!

Yet it wasn't meant to be. My father died. My mother lost control. My sisters and brother turned into grey in the background and I just wanted to dance every night, talk with friends and kiss boys. We all deal with grief in our own way and I felt the need to get away. In addition, my first class at Colorado College - "Western Political Tradition" had me quaking in my boots with intimidation. Plato? Aristotle? St. Augustine? Descartes? I was thinking, "Who the hell are these guys??" My 4 years at Widefield High School - a low to middle income high school - had me ill-prepared to go rounds with my prep school counterparts. To put it bluntly, I felt stupid.

So last night was a meeting of the book club I've belonged to for the past few years comprised of other mothers from my daughters' school, and those 17 year old Linda feelings came back. All I could think of on the way home was, "I had nothing of value or interest to say." "I am gauche and dowdy, unpolished, out of shape and frumpy." I went home and did what I don't do very often these days, I cried. It's those moments of crying to yourself in the early hours of the morning when even though the house is full with the breathing and the night noises of four other people - a mother can really feel completely alone.

RomaNatura

It's funny how after 9 years of living here and actively searching for things to do with our children for the past 8, that we are only recently finding interesting and fun things for them to do. It comes in drips and drabs, but the things we have found lately have been fun for them. Everything from the free arts & crafts workshops at the Casina di Raffaello in the Villa Borghese park to the recent "city nature" outings we have discovered through RomaNatura.

RomaNatura is an organization responsible for the care, maintenance and promotion of historic natural protected areas within Rome. Most of these places have villas, archaeological sites, nature walks and an area for educational projects with children and/or adults.

Yesterday we signed the girls up for a workshop at the Valle dei Casali - an area just south of Monteverde. There is an educational organic farm, an organic (but not vegetarian) restaurant and a lovely greenish area with lots of trees and open space for children to run around before or after the workshop. Viola was immediately attracted to the flowers - she loves all things green and was immediately in her element.

The topic of this workshop was "Disegnare un Albero" (Design/Draw a Tree). The children sketched a tree and then with wire used their sketches to create a small "tree" using all kinds of recycled objects to make the leaves, branches, trunk, etc. Here are Giulia and Paloma working diligently on their project -they take these things very seriously!

Bagels!!

Steve has been on a bread-making kick - baguettes, whole wheat seed bread, and now this morning - la pièce de résistance - bagels! We woke to their delicious, freshly made smell this morning. They look like bagels, but the most important - they taste like them too!

That's only one of many things about living in Italy that has helped us become more self-sufficient. Sometimes you just can't find what you are looking for and you need to make your own or simply do without and realize that after a while - it's not something you really miss anymore. In regards to food, our tastes just slowly evolved. In the U.S., you can have whatever kind of food you want, whenever you want it. We've learned to appreciate and prefer local and seasonal. Although we still get a craving for certain ethnic foods - Indian for example - we can also make our own at home and only when we want the particularly saucy, spicy kind do we go out looking for it. We have our own blend of Mexican/Puertorican food nights - Steve makes great flat bread that is infinitely better and without all the chemicals and preservatives you find in the package of El Paso tortillas they sell here at the local specialty food shop Castroni. I make my family's Puertorican style beans and our local organic shop has avocados for the guacamole, and freshly grown cilantro we can find from the Bangladeshi shop keepers at Piazza Vittorio.

For the most part though we prefer Italian or Mediterranean food - things we can find and make with ingredients that are available now and that are fresh and flavorful. It's fun to drive out in the country and pick things up from the local farmers.

We are also supporters of the Slow Food movement. Their fantastic resource - "Osterie d'Italia" is a book that has never let us down. Not every meal has been mind-blowing, but we have never eaten badly. It also always takes us into small towns or borgos we would never find without the incentive of a possibly fabulous meal.

Yesterday we ended up in the nondescript town of Poggio Moiano - about an hour north of Rome - to try a restaurant that was in the guide. Traffic was horrific - all the Romans in an exodus for the three day weekend. We finally got there, and unfortunately, the town itself wasn't very interesting and incredibly quiet because of the holiday. The meal was good, but not spectacular - catering mostly to meat eaters. There was also a huge party because of a child's first communion so after being forgotten by the wait staff - our children got bored and we left without trying dessert. It was fine though - we were happy to leave and walk around the town a bit.


There's always a play ground to be found and our children are young enough that their expectations are low and they can have fun with nearly anything including this incline they found near some shops. Going up and speeding down was something they could have done for hours if we had let them.

Country life?

Oops - I missed a day yesterday. So much for my pledge. We went out for Indian food last night and a friend showed us the apartment she is housesitting which is 200+ sqm of lovely spaciousness. We got back late, and well, I just wasn't in the mood to write.

Yesterday we went to a see a house in the countryside north of Rome - an area called Sabina. The house belongs to a friend of a friend. He wants to rent it out and we thought we should look at it since Steve and I have been jonesing for a house in the country for the last few years. This sounded like a good opportunity. I knew it wouldn't be what I wanted though, and sure enough it wasn't.

Newer construction, ugly fencing, junk everywhere, landscaping -what's that? Even with all the furniture gone - the inside had a horrible layout, the outside was a mess and not very inviting. Basically, it would need A LOT of work. I'm sure he wouldn't go under €1,000/month. So we get rid of our apartment in Rome and move out to the countryside nowhere near a small town and then what? The girls go to school in Montelibretti and we become part-time farmers? Or we commute to get the girls to their school in Rome in the morning? We live a 10 minute walk away now and can barely get the girls to school on time as it is. If it were just to get to work that would be one thing - one of the many positives of The Beehive being just 2 blocks from Termini train station. It's just the girls' school that poses a problem.

I'm also a bit nervous about living in the countryside here. No matter what part of Italy we have been to - with the exception of the Alto Adige - everyone we know of has been broken into. And it's not just the television that they take, but literally everything including the kitchen sink. We've known people come back to their homes to find window fixtures gone. And then there's the horror stories - the break-ins that happen when someone is still home. With three children and times when I may be on my own with them - well, I wouldn't feel very comfortable or secure at night. What's the point or pleasure in that?

Taking away the possibility of break-ins, essentially, I want the following in a countryside location:

1. a house that can be changed enough for us to make it more sustainable - would love to construct a straw bale house, but think that would be a living nightmare here.
2. a small olive grove and enough land to have a vegetable garden
3. a view - green rolling hills preferred
4. congenial neighbors - but in the distance
5. easy access to a train station that is well-connected
6. roads with little traffic
7. close vicinity to farms (preferably organic) where we could get eggs, cheese and fruit or veg that we don't grow
8. biking vicinity to a small town that had an interesting lively community - preferably liberal, artistic and intellectual - with excellent schools (I know, I know - this ones a stretch, but this is my wish list!)

There's got to be a place SOMEWHERE in Italy that has what I'm looking for, but the longer I live here the more I'm convinced it simply doesn't exist. Perhaps it doesn't exist anywhere except in my dreams.

Linda and Steve's B&B

Talk about taking our work home with us. Our babysitter moved out at the end of March and we decided to convert our guest room into our own B&B which is now listed on our agency website. It works perfectly as a guest room because the area is removed from our own apartment - down below us and separate - and guests have their privacy as well as their own independent access through our garden. There's none of the possible discomfort associated with a home stay.

The girls love having guests and meeting new people - it's great to see it all through their eyes. The buzzer rings announcing our guests arrival and they start screaming in excitement. It can be a bit overwhelming though - I have to insist that they say hello and then go back upstairs while I show our guests around and explain things. Giulia and Paloma insist on waking early so they can help serve breakfast. They feel so important bringing down a tray.

So far we've had two different sets of guests - both Australian couples - one Asian and very young and the other older with grown children. We had invited the older couple up for dinner last night not knowing that it was their anniversary - 41 years! We all got to hear about their adventures trekking through the Himalayas for 330 kilometers with their then-young children. Steve got to hear about all the great surfing he's missing out on and we learned about the geography of Australia and sheep farming practices which don't sound entirely humane.

Since I don't get to spend as much time at The Beehive anymore, it's wonderful to have these multicultural experiences and these small glimpses of the world in our own downstairs.

The Beehive Cafe reincarnated

We are so excited!!! Steve and I have decided to turn The Beehive Cafe into a karma cafe. It's based on the concept of a "community kitchen" - no set menu, no set prices - patrons pay what they think the food is worth and they can also decide on portion size so hopefully eliminate waste. We'll have suggested prices by portion size for people who might feel a bit uncomfortable about the idea of not having fixed prices. The main thing being that we wouldn't turn anyone away for lack of funds and food waste would be diminished as well.

Being in Italy, we're going to have to make it a cultural association and non-Beehive guests will have to pay a small amount to become a member - €1 or €2, but membership is good for the year. In this way, we overcome the limitations we've had of not being able to actively publicize ourselves to the community and we get to do something we think is a really cool idea essentially expanding our philosophy of The Beehive into our cafe - offering quality, healthy and delicious food to all and not limited by how much someone can or cannot afford. Some of our staff and I'm sure others will think we are wacky, but hell - why not??

Back to business

Well the wonderful weather couldn't last forever and the weekends are only 2 days long - today it was back to business. Steve and I decided to have our first official business meeting together and are going to try to make it a weekly event.

The idea of The Beehive was born 10 years ago and The Beehive itself (its first incarnation) opened on 11 May 1999. Steve and I work really well together - we bring different strengths and ideas to the table. Having our own business, besides our children, has proven to be one of the hardest things we have done, but has also been extremely gratifying and no matter what - we know now we would never want to go back to working for someone else. We've had great ideas over the years (our cafe) and not so great ideas (our concierge services), we've had ideas that have and continue to succeed in leaps and bounds (our agency cross-pollinate) and others that have not (our yoga space and art exhibits). Regardless, we keep plugging away and coming up with new ideas, changes, improvements, etc. It's always a work in progress.

The Beehive is a living space - people in and out - different personalities and energies constantly in movement working their way in and out of doors. We love what we do, but it can be stressful and very often we have to contend with expectations from guests that are unrealistic or people who don't want to be out of their comfort zone and really shouldn't be traveling in the first place or should be staying at the Sheraton or Best Western instead. Thankfully, these kinds of guests are few and far between, but it's aggravating when people just don't "get" us which we try to make pretty clear in order to avoid disappointment.

Any new ideas, improvements or changes have always come about pretty randomly - during a shower, a walk, while lying in bed. We've never really sat together and thought of ways to run the business. However, we are realizing that in the last few years - The Beehive has been a bit neglected by us. While Steve is there virtually every day his mind is elsewhere - bogged down by all the tedium and frustration of the many administrative responsibilities he has which are many. Add three children and a father who is very actively involved including making our dinner every night - well, he doesn't have a whole lot of time to devote specifically to The Beehive. Ditto for me. I work from home as I am still nursing our youngest child, Viola, and I make my random cameo appearances at The Beehive, but since having Paloma in 2002 - The Beehive has just been one of many responsibilities. We are both just pulled in many different directions.

So now we've decided to try to organize ourselves and lives a bit better - hence, the weekly meetings. I'm excited about this new phase of our business relationship. To try to improve and promote our agency, get caught up on the maintenance at The Beehive and manage the cafe so that it runs more efficiently. Am I wishful thinking or is this another idea that will crash and burn?

Another wonderful day

If this keeps up no one is going to believe that I could actually ever be unhappy here in Rome. Yet today was another gorgeous spring day and we spent it outside in our garden with our friend Stefania and her two sons, Thomas and Sebastian. Stefania is a friend I have recently reconnected with and it was great to be able to spend just a carefree day enjoying the sunshine, chatting and letting the children bounce on the trampoline. I don't know what it is about kids and trampolines, but they bounced for pretty much 5 hours straight and it still wasn't enough.

The Pied Piper of Rome

Today was a beautiful perfect spring day and so we decided to take a picnic to the Villa Torlonia near our house. We wanted to take full advantage of this weather before the tiger mosquitoes woke up from their too short hibernation and we're forced once again to take one of the following measures: either constantly drenching ourselves in geranium and citronella oils (which are effective for about 5 seconds), wear long sleeves and long pants and closed shoes (and if you know what Rome is like in July and August that's a big - "yeah, right"), stay inside or - what we have done for the past several years - leave Rome.

The park was jam packed with children and one thing that struck me was, "Where are their parents?" There were children playing everywhere, but no adults to be found. They were all enjoying their post-lunch coffees and desserts at the restaurant located in the park - a good plan in nice weather like today because restless children can just run and play while you enjoy your meal. That wouldn't work too well with our children who always want an adult around - namely Steve.

My husband is a magnet for children. For whatever reason, they just gravitate towards him - perhaps finding a mutually immature and juvenile kindred spirit who also loves to play and can relish a good poop joke with the best of them. The things he comes up with to do are often not very complicated and can take no effort on the part of the adult. Today was no different. The girls asked Daddy for a race. Rather than Daddy getting all hot and sweaty taking part in a race with his high-spirited children again and again and again - Steve said he would time them using the timer on his phone to see how fast they could go, and then after the first go to see if they could beat their previous times. Oh -he is fiendishly clever that husband of mine! The girls went for it and after seeing our children do this several times - immediately up popped a few other children asking if they could take part in the race. Our three children, then suddenly turned into 5 children and as he walked around the park looking for other places to do a race, five children turned into 6 and then 7 and after just a few minutes there were about 10 kids surrounding him.

The races didn't last very long - the parents started straggling out of the restaurant area and calling for their children. They thanked Steve and probably thought of him as that "crazy American" as they walked away whispering amongst themselves. But the kids loved it and I think it was that structure and just the fact that an adult, a parent was actually involved was an enjoyable and important experience for them.

We often see here in Rome how parents go the park or other public places and hide behind a newspaper or chat with their friends and let their children run wild, creating utter chaos and disruption with misbehavior that is not corrected. When our children were younger, we dreaded going to the park and at some point just stopped going because we were tired of always having to do battle with children- battles that could have been prevented if their parents had taken more of an active interest in what they were doing.

I think a lot of it often has to do with boredom because children do appreciate sometimes structured play and some inspiration of what to do. It's not that you have to physically do it with them or for them, but provide a bit of help and guidance in their journey. In play or in life in general - I think a little involvement goes a long way in building bonds between yourself and your children.

A day out with Paloma and Paddington

Paloma was given the responsibility of caring for her classroom's Paddington Bear over this spring holiday. Today I had to go to Trastevere and asked Paloma to come with me and Paddington came along for the ride. Trastevere might as well be in another city - it took us about an hour and half to get there from our neighborhood including two bus changes. Paloma, who suffers from motion sickness, was a trooper and thankfully we made it to our destination without incident. It's amazing how with the right lighting, angle and a close-up shot, Piazza Independenza can be transformed from skid row hang out to a halcyon field of flowers.

I made the journey to Trastevere to take advantage of my friend Sinne's recent sale on samples from her yoga clothing collection - the fabulous Ki-Shirts - which are some of the coziest clothes in my wardrobe - all made with organic cotton. Afterwards Paloma, Paddington and I headed to the Ghetto for some pizza and a stop at my favorite erboristeria. I really like the Ghetto neighborhood - it's one of the few areas in Rome where I have always felt a very strong sense of the community there.

Paloma, as usual when Giulia is out of the picture, was an absolute joy to be with. Another good day!

Dirty laundry

So I've got a secret. A few friends know about this and now I'm just going to put it out there. I've been "seeing" a therapist. Now "seeing" is in parenthesis because our visits are all done by Skype video chat. She's a Jungian therapist I met on the fabulous mother/baby yoga retreat I went to last July. I've been talking with her on and off for the past couple of months. I like her. She's got a great sensitivity and perception, but I guess the thing I don't like is that she doesn't really give me any solutions. Not having seen many therapists in my day, I don't know if this is standard procedure. I know I'm angry at my children a lot, I feel like shit about it. I'm a procrastinator, and can't seem to shake myself of it. I feel perpetually dissatisfied - okay, I know all this already. So what the hell do I do about it?!?!

Yet she doesn't offer any solutions. She makes observations sometimes pointing out that "you might feel A because of B", you know that kind of thing. It is great to talk to someone who has no emotional connection to me and is detached and a professional, but still pleasant. There's definitely something worthwhile in that. But do I want to continue this process indefinitely? Does she? I don't think either one of us does, but I don't see any closure to it. I hadn't talked to her in a couple of weeks and I could probably have very easily just never contacted her again. Yet my need to resolve these personal issues in my life is so strong that I'm willing to grasp at these straws even if these particular straws cost €50 a piece.

A good day

This afternoon Giulia, Paloma and I had gelato, got some spring clothes shopping in, they got their yearly summer Birkenstock purchase, and bought some toys with their own money as well as giving coins to every beggar and street musician we ran into (Paloma has started working at the cafe now too so has her own little stash of cash.) I LOVE days like this. Days when I don't feel rushed or irritated or angry with my children. Why can't they all be like this?

Italian bureaucracy blues

Today I had to go to the post office. Any foreigner living in Italy dreads this experience. Poste Italiane is one of the larger, if not largest, bureaucracies that Italians as well as foreigners have to deal with on too regular a basis and that's because they do it all: bill payment, parking violations, pensions, foreigners permits to stay and if that weren't enough - deliver and send mail which they do with incredible inefficiency.

There used to be two ways to send a letter - regular mail and what they called "Posta Prioritaria" (Priority Mail). It was just a few cents more, but at least sending it priority mail, you were ensured that at least 80% of the time your letter would make it to its destination. With regular mail - it was more of a 50/50 chance. I sent a letter once to London that took 17 days to get there - Poste Italiane's idea of priority mail, but at least it made it.

Don't go to the post office here if you are feeling suicidal, depressed or homicidal because all of these and many other compulsions and thoughts will begin to flitter through your mind as you wait. And wait, and wait, and wait, and wait. If you're lucky, you might get out in 15 minutes, but an average wait is 45 minutes to an hour.

After nearly an hour of trying to get my multiple transactions taken care of - a couple of bills, two packages and our tax returns back to the US - I started to feel really annoyed. I had just taken 2 minutes to fill out a form that was necessary to mail one of my packages and now I was waiting nearly 20 minutes for the particular clerk who had helped me initially because the one and only other clerk could not help me - for reasons that weren't entirely clear. I sat there feeling more and more irritated as he was oh so slowly going through a huge pile of registered mail that needed to be stamped with all the ubiquitous Italian stamps when my eyes were drawn to the clerks hands and all of the stamping. His right hand had fingernails that were longish, but were all very carefully manicured and his left hand was just as manicured, but the fingernails were very short. "Oh, he plays guitar," I thought. I started to wonder whether he played in a band or if it was a secret passion - what kind of guitar he played, what type of music, etc., etc. Was I really that interested? Well, not exactly, but it made my negative mindset slowly dissolve into a more positive one. Sure, life at Poste Italiane must be an incredible bore and I couldn't imagine working for a company that was mired in a swamp of bureaucracy and absurdity, but he's a human being too.

Finally all the letters were stamped, the amount paid and it was my turn. I asked him if he played guitar, but I phrased it like a statement and not a question. His eyes which had previously been so shuttered and listless suddenly brightened a bit and he began to tell me it was like a drug for him - that he played only for himself and that he was going to be in New York for a wedding in June and had plans to buy a Gibson guitar - a dream. The smile I gave him when we were done with my transaction and the "buona giornata" was a genuine one. I really did hope he had a nice day.

For me this was a great lesson for the next time I find myself feeling cut off from other people and falling into a "me vs them" mentality. It's so easy to forget that we're all in this together.

The pen is mightier

Today I took Giulia and Paloma to lunch at our neighborhood trattoria, da Emilio. The place is usually jam-packed with office workers and we inevitably see the same customers. It's a casual place, nothing fancy with just good ol' casareccio (homestyle) cooking. As we were sitting there swapping stories, I noticed Paloma had a bandaid on her chest near her neck. I asked her what happened and she pointed to Giulia. Giulia immediately gave me the look of dread - "You're going to make me go home when you hear what I did." It turns out she got angry at her sister, lost her temper and threw a pen at her. The pen struck Paloma in the neck, drawing blood. These are the times in parenthood when I want to pull down the blinds and close shop.

The Bad Blogger

That's me - the bad blogger. My last post was nearly a month ago and believe me - it's not that nothing has been going on in my life. Yet it's not that it's been that exciting either. It's amazing how much the everyday minutiae can take over and before you know it - a day, a week a year has gone by and you have no idea what you've been doing all that time. Some important things that have gotten postponed over the years because of this minutiae: baby books (my children will be in university by the time I get around to those), my new years resolutions (there's always next year!), and cleaning the inside of the car - I equate that with the way in my 20's I would drive around with my dirty laundry in the car long enough for the clothes to just miraculously "clean" themselves! Same thing with the carpeting in the car - loaded with enough cracker crumbs to form a new package of crackers - it suddenly seems cleaner when we haven't driven the car in a long time.

I'm going to make a pledge that starting today I will write something, anything here everyday for the duration of Giulia and Paloma's school spring holidays which officially commence tomorrow.

Until then!

Cornwall, Italy?

Mother Nature has been toying with us here in Rome giving us days of early spring splendor interspersed with winter winds and rain just as we start to put the heavier clothes back into their boxes for next year. Yesterday we were determined to make it a beach day and even though the weather didn't look promising - we had already told the girls our plan and they were too excited for us to back out.

Once we got there, the only people determined enough to be out there was one other lone family and loads of kite surfers. For a wave surfer like Steve this seemed the height of folly - "How the hell can they stand it?" The wind was very strong and all he could imagine was the pain of the icy water being exacerbated by the cold wind - Cornwall revisited. Although in Cornwall - granted, our March is their July. Viola - red-nosed and virtually frozen by the wind - did not appreciate our outing although she didn't complain. Steve made the best of his cashmere scarf looking like a terrorist mummy and "scaring" the girls.


Giulia and Paloma had fun all the same and even took their socks off! Thankfully, there were no Italian grandmothers around to chastise us.

Happy Birthday Viola!

At 6:09 this morning, Viola turned 2 years old. She was oblivious, of course, still in that blissful state of ignorance that goes away much too quickly. We could see she got the idea that something special was in the air as she was wished "Happy Birthday" and given hundreds of kisses by her sisters.

She got presents - books, a wooden toy and assorted cat paraphernalia (she loves cats) including this fantastic cardboard cat that Giulia and Paloma made for her.


Seeing her sweet and joyful face today, I had to reflect on how she came into this world and while those 9 months she spent hanging out with me weren't entirely the most peaceful - her birth and subsequent babyhood and now toddlerhood have been nothing but delightful.

The morning of her birth - at around 2:30am, I heard a cry come from the girls' room. Paloma was woken up by a combination of bad dream and illness. Nothing but some gentle words and lots of cuddling could put her right so I spent about an hour with her until she fell back to sleep. At that point, I stumbled back to our bed, rolled over to my side, pulled the covers up and immediately began to feel labor pains. These were no Braxton-Hicks, I knew that this was it. I went out to the living room, walked and labored on my own for about 45 minutes and then at that point, I thought - "I better get Steve out of bed." Steve who sleeps through cries, wails and bumps in the night - was completely oblivious to all that had been happening.

It had taken my mother 8 years to finally come and visit us he