Tag: Happying


No Week’s Too Hard For Chocolate

This has been a hard week, though I don’t exactly know why. Alien mind probes in the middle of the night? Psychotic ninth-month hormones sabotaging my sense of happy? Mental leprosy™? Of course, hard weeks wouldn’t be doing their evil duty unless they hit me over the head each time I tried to write or smile or do anything more enjoyable than laundry, so I started the weekend with a house full of clean clothes, no blog entries to show for it, and a headache. Woe.

But then this morning dawned with the perfect mix of blue-sky radiance and glittering breeze that makes me lust for October. And though we couldn’t go downtown to elbow our way through the huddled masses at EuroChocolate*, we spent a relaxing morning with a lovely friend at one of Tuscany’s rare outlet malls. Which included a Lindt store. Which served Varesino. Which is what coffee would be if it died of too much happiness, went to chocolate heaven, and resurrected in a tiny glass with frothy milk. ::Dying of happiness at the memory::

Chocolate spoon lovin'

Plus, we finally got a set of glass espresso cups so we can trick our guests into thinking we are 1) grown-up and 2) cool. Plus, Natalie got to expend weeks’ worth of energy and giggles on the playground. Plus, the Italian hills along our drive were the kind of beautiful I can sink into like a Jacuzzi.

So, this week in summary? Not so very hard at all.

*Due to Operation No-More-Contractions-Until-I-Get-Health-Insurance-On-Tuesday-That’s-Right-I’m-Talking-To-YOU-Uterus!


The Belly Nears Its Expiration Date

The moment I first suspected I was pregnant with Natalie, my stomach performed a complicated gymnastic maneuver and my mind fogged over. When I regained conscious thought, I could hardly stop worrying. Details like finding a doctor and buying maternity clothes seemed overwhelming because I wasn’t sure I’d even love Natalie when she came. Needless to say, the start of my first pregnancy wasn’t exactly the thrilling, Hallmark-worthy experience I had always imagined.

Along the way, though, excitement managed to sneak in between all the doubt. I felt Natalie move for the first time as the results from the 2004 presidential election were being broadcasted, and after that one tiny flutter, I wouldn’t have cared if the antichrist himself had been elected grand dictator of the previously free world. I fell in love with her long before her birth, but I still wished that the first weeks hadn’t been tainted by so much anxiety.

Enter my resolve to thoroughly enjoy this pregnancy. And I have enjoyed it, from the moment Dan’s smile told me we had our blue plus sign (I was too nervous to look for myself). It’s been so much easier, physically and emotionally, than last time, and I love the wriggly roundness in my belly that means our family is finally complete.

Lately, though, my pregnancy has been on the back burner of my mind. I suppose it could have something to do with moving three times in one summer, learning a new language, hanging out with a busy two-year-old, etc. At any rate, my stomach did another highly athletic move this week when I realized that we only have ten weeks before we meet our baby girl face to face (and quite possibly fewer, considering how early Natalie decided to make her appearance). Where in the world did time go?

While I have zero (0) clue how life will function with two little girls, I can’t wait to find out. I can’t wait to cuddle my newest daughter and watch my oldest learn how to love in a new way. I can’t wait to see my husband’s face glow even brighter as yet another female wraps herself around his heart. I can’t wait to tell people our baby’s name and have her warmly welcomed into the world.

Ten weeks…

::Deep breath. Smile::


Mastercard Not Accepted

Milk frother for making perfect cappuccinos: 6 euro
Cheery sunflower rug perfect for building legos on: 10 euro
Tiny rose bush bursting with perfect orange blossoms: 4 euro
The thrill of finding perfect Saturday morning treasures at the open market for husband, daughter, and self, respectively: Priceless


Perfect Moment

A storm hit last night, the kind with rhythmic bass notes, strobe light effects and raindrops like overzealous bouncers. Being the hard-core ravers we are, Dan, Natalie, and I made sure to run through the worst of the rain. (Three times, in fact; we weren’t quite drenched enough after the first two.) As we collapsed inside, I discovered a Perfect Moment right there with my little family, thoroughly soaked and laughing out loud.



Epic Paperback Life

Some weeks are just weeks, published with simple words, full-color illustrations, and cardboard pages for easy turning. Then there are weeks — the epic paperback kind with size 8.5 font, no chapter titles, and frequent lapses into ancient Latin. Guess which category last week fell into?

My hormone-riddled mind is having a hard time adjusting to our second summer move into a place that is neither our house here in Delaware nor the house waiting for us in Italy. I feel like I’ve earned the right to be impatient after SIX MONTHS of being strung along by foreign bureaucracy. Or, at the very least, I’ve earned the right to buy an exorbitant amount of orange sherbet to ward off uncontrollable weeping. (And you think I’m kidding…)

I haven’t felt this intensely frustrated about life since I was 14, and yet I’ve never had so many reasons to be grateful —

For Game Night Till 3 AM Friends; for Barbecue At The Beach Friends; for brilliant, scientific friends who know more Dora the Explorer trivia than we do; for friends who share their homes with us and teach us about generosity —

For a Walk Laughing In The Rain On Our Anniversary Husband; for a Secret Dishwasher Husband; for a husband who knows how to bring out my tears and my joy and my hidden imaginations; for a husband who loves me —

Happy us at Amada

For my Drama Queen Daughter; for my too-clever two-year-old; for my curly-haired bolt of energy who astonishes me daily; for my little girl who is delighted to be mine —

Giggly Mommy and Natalie

For Little Girl #2 twirling inside me; for the tiny life fast on her way to completing our family; for my unborn daughter who gives me far more to look forward to than an overseas move ever could —

For breath and food and working air conditioners and hope, however shaky, however absurd; for the knowledge we are neither alone nor forgotten; for the assurance that our lives will take a miraculous twist in the next few weeks because there simply is no other option.

“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all.”
~Emily Dickinson

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