Blame it on the mom

well. we did it. we lazied away the days in Roman sunshine. everything you imagine about living in Italy, we had: the pizza, the gelato, the ancient spin on it all, the cobblestone and vespas, plus a bunch of the nitty gritty of Roman life. we wrote about it here.

and now we're back.

and back to the issue of....kids. procreation. offspring. the "one woman's bundle of joy is another woman's burden." while friends of my past and present blog and post about co-sleeping pros/cons and swear by Trader Joes organic baby food nonsense, complaining about no life and ironically posting every minute of it on Instagram, this is where i let out the sigh and punch my womb.

mothers of today are why there will be no mothers of tomorrow.

Nove giorni

I never regret when I write. Well, at least that's what I thought before I logged in to this site and then read that last thing about waiting and boo-hooing til vacation and counting down the days til Rome. Rome is full of cliches, by default of location and significance, and so is everything I write about it. Oh well, it's for me and Nick anyways.

I'm home early tonight. I'm keeping myself from packing more. I'm watching TV and loving that soon this won't even be an option for me. I'll miss the new season of the Bravo show with the arrogant young real estate guys. boo hoo. There's so much I won't miss, things that don't matter. The pile of decorative pillows on the bed, the ton of shoes, the constant presence of the dumb smart phone. There's so much we really don't need.

And so much we do. To not take love for granted. To not count it ordinary. Or friendships for that matter. To slow down and consider. To listen deeper to the words spoken and choose slower the words we speak. To stop complaining about the woes of life and find what, in this day, can be enjoyed as a gift.

It sounds like the stuff a cancer patient would say; the words of someone who knows her days are numbered. Truth is, the days are. I squander mine away, along with friendships and sunsets and a whole host of better things that are never realized until passed.

Rome is in nine days.

Without the Waiting

Mi fontana di Trevi

I write again. Few will ever read this, but Nick loves when I write. So I write again.

But I really don't have anything to say. I need to order that book on Roman life by Marcus Aurelius. I need to get the rest of my citizenship papers in the mail. I need to pay bills. It's just another day of grey Pacific Northwest skies. I'm waiting for the work day to end. I'm waiting for our Mexican vacation to start in 10 days. I'm waiting. I'm waiting. I'm waiting.

But today while I'm waiting I'm letting out a much needed sigh of relief. The days of being in Rome are getting closer. The days of waking up to sunshine are just a countdown away. No one sets out on life hoping to wake up early, head into traffic for an hour commute, be stuck at work for 14hrs (yes, fourteen hours), and repeat, repeat, repeat. This is how wrinkles are made, and stress, and bad hair and living in leggings and boots and eating jello for dinner. Well, at least that's how it's translated into my life. Why wait until the effects of that lifestyle set in (ie. retirement) to get around to changing it? We're retiring from the idea of living that way.

We're waiting to live the life of our dreams, and fortunately, that wait is just about 65 days away, rather than when we're 65.

Life sucks right now with tiresome days of a pathetic existence and long work hours and a ridiculous to-do list. I've never been so stressed. I feel the anxiety of work consume me each morning. I don't sleep well because of it. But no one cares about my problems, because everyone knows that "Nick and Nicole are moving to Rome." I can't blame them. We are, indeed, moving to freaking Rome. Where the wine is cheaper than the water. Where the days are spent strolling through the Sistine and sunsets watched from the Spanish Steps. Where we won't have to wake up and leave each other. Where la Fontana di Trevi can be enjoyed with leisure, with heels on, feeling alive and beautiful and only in love. Where days will end faciamo la passegiata and sipping limoncello. Where everything will be new and without duty and without the waiting.

While I wait, I'll remember the words one Roman said, "Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them." Marcus Aurelius