They must often change, who would be constant in happiness or wisdom. ~Confucius

When you first find out you are about to become a new parent, every one is so quick to say things like, "Your life is really going to change" or "Parenthood really changes everything." And, anyone with half the sense that God gave a goose can get what that might mean - at least on the surface.

It's the changes to your fiber, your being, the changes to your life philosophy that you don't anticipate changing but does. Or maybe it was just us.

On our way back from our Spain Tour 2010. Jonathan and I checked in at the airport and were asked if we wanted to spend another night in Malaga...

At a 5 star hotel...

With transportation between airport and hotel...

With all our meals paid for...

Seats on a flight back to the US the following day...

AND

A $2,000 credit for use on Delta.

I was already salivating at 5 star hotel and all expenses paid. Afterall, we had an extra day before we had to return to work and we had not had much time alone in Spain. What could be better? Oh, yeah, $2000 for more plane tickets.

I quicky devised that we could return to Europe next year and potentially have credit left over for another trip. What's not to accept. How many times over the last few years had I so desperately wanted to volunteer my seat but had to be at work the next day or had some equally important issue????? Yet, this was not the case this time. In fact, this was the perfect set of circumstances.

We could have another day in Southern Spain!!!!!!

Then they give us the itinerary which involved a very short 1.5 hour connection through Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. One of the worst airports to get through (although better than JFK, if for no other reason than because when you are being told you missed your flight and there is not another until tomorrow, it sounds A LOT better in French. And, I understand the French accent better than I understand the New York accent.)

In my head, I am doing an incredible amount of calculating in a very short time that went something like this: If flight is on time, we still have to get baggage and get through customs, recheck bags-get to gate-there-is-no-way-we-will-make-it-if-the-flight-is-a-half-second-too-late-or-the-gate-is-at-thewrongendoftheaeropuerto.

Which is when Jonathan steps in and says, "If we miss the connection we won't get to see butterbean until Monday and then we leave again on Thursday.

In my head (again), I let out a veeeeerrry long stream of profanity with perfect alliteration (it was really almost artful) and said, "I'm sorry, we have to pass."

And so, we got on the plane. It took me until we were somewhere over the Atlantic, after the first lunch and some bad boxed wine to stop thinking about it and wondering if we had just made a huge, huge mistake. Who was I to have given up such an opportunity?

The next morning, when I picked up butterbean AKA the Notorious MRA, squeezed his chubby little hands and saw him toddle more than a few steps on his own for the first time, I was pretty sure we made the right decision.

Wordless Wednsday

Wordless Wednesday

Dear Notorious MRA

Daddy and I are off to Spain tomorrow. And Uncle Chad and Aunt Robin will be with us. I know that you are going to have a fabulous time here with Nanny and Pawpaw and Cooper.

I am sure that one day, you are going to look at the pictures we bring back and think that we were having the time of our lives. And, truth be told, I hope we are BUT, little butterbean, that does not mean we won't be missing you.

I can promise you that we are thinking of you every day. I can promise you that we will be having more than one conversation about how much we cannot wait to show you the world. I can promise you that we will be talking about how everything seems so much better with you around.

Your little smile warms our hearts and your giggle lights our world.

So yes, we will be having fun for ten wonderful days. But you will never be far from our thoughts. We love you more than you can possibly comprehend. You are an exceptional baby and an ideal son.

We will see you when we get back and when we do, oh, when we do, everyone better move out of our way because we are just going to sopp your little self up with a biscuit!

Love you the most,
Mamma

If They Could Just Stay Little, At Least Until They Are Old Enough To Help.

Last week, Jonathan went out of town for work. Upon his return, he commented on how much the Notorious MRA seemed to change over just those four short days.

This led to the following:

J: He changed so much over just four days, can you imagine what he will be like when we get back from 10 days in Spain?

A: No, I don't know. All his front teeth are coming in at the same time. And, he took four steps by himself yesterday! We are going to come back and he is going to have all these teeth and be walking around. Like a little man or something.

J: I know.

A: Seriously, what's next?

J: I don't know, maybe he'll pick us up at the airport, by us a drink and finish building the wall.

As cute as he is little, that doesn't sound half bad, n'est ce pas?

These Boots Are Made For Walking....

through Barcelona, that is.

So, I am having the hardest time packing for my all-adult-all-the-time-no-baby-clinging-to-my-leg trip to SPAIN next week. The high temps there are about 70 degrees and the lowest lows I have seen are in the upper 50s.

I live in Florida. I have no idea what 70 degrees feels like in terms of clothes. It is sometimes 70 degrees but not for long. 70 degrees is sometimes a morning low. And, actually, it is about 70 degrees right now but in 5 minutes it will be about 75 so 70 is fleeting and a little unimaginable.

So the packing has not been going well. As a result, I am altering the packing strategy. Here is how it goes...

What I do know about 70 degrees being a high temperature is - that's boot weather! Yes, glorious, fashionable, knee high, leather boot weather. And since it isn't usually 70 here I almost never get to wear my boots.

Boots are definitely going to Spain with me. Now, with that decided, and along with a pair of strappy going out sandals and some more sensible wedges (that function like a flat). I can devise the outfits to go with each.

And since leggings are trendy right now, I can pair them with said boots for the flight (thus not taking up valuable luggage space) and still have a comfy yet stylish wrinkle free travel outfit.

Feeling much better now that I have worked that out.

Wordless Wednsday

My head is soooooo BIG



"How big is your head?" you might ask.

My head is sooooooooo BIG, my daddy had to cut me out of this outfit.

Seriously, a true story.

Lessons in sportsmanship from the dog.

Many of you are big fans of Cooper and his antics. Now that he is approaching 2 years old, the antics are slowing down (thank you Jesus).

He has developed into quite a patient pup with his new little brother, too.

Family Legends Debunked

Growing up, my mom sometimes talked about her father. She mentioned that he had been schooled back in Italy and that the family was from Bavilla. He would sometimes sing a song that, she said, went something like "be bop baviiilla".

She also told me, and I don't know where she heard it, that back in Bavilla, that the family home was very grand and had been turned into a pensione of some sort and that in it, hung a picture of my grandmother.

The story shifted here and there. Some versions had my grandmother in a wedding dress, sometimes the picture was on a mantle or hanging over a fireplace, sometimes the house was a castle or a palazzo.

In any case, the house was large and nice enough to now be some sort of Bed and Breakfast like establishment and it was all very romantic sounding in a maybe I-should-go-there-and-do-the-expat-thing-for-a-while-sort-of-way.

Recently, actually about 2 years ago, I showed my mom how to use http://www.ancestery.com/. She quickly became addicted and spent days doing research. Her efforts were rewarded when she discovered some ship manifests that listed her father and some other family members travelling back and forth to the U.S.

Through these documents, she discovered that Bavilla (which no one could ever find on a map) was actually Boveglio and suddenly, there in the northern reaches of Tuscany not far from Lucca was Boveglio!

Well, armed with this information and dragging my father and aunt and uncle with her. She set out to go to Boveglio during her next trip to Italy and she hit gold. She befriended some people in the courthouse of the neighboring town of Basilica and was able to view many old family documents, including the handwritten testimony by my great grandfather of my grandfathers birth.

At some point during this journey, she figured out that the song I mentioned earlier was actually "Viva Boveglio!" (which makes a lot more sense).

She and my dad, aunt, and uncle also went into Boveglio which ended up being more like a hamlet... at the end of the road... at the top of the mountain. Once up there they went into the bar (and by this I mean the ONLY bar/restaurant).

Not speaking Italian and the bar keeper not speaking English posed a little problem but then my mom mentioned the Boveglio Club (which my grandfather was a part of here in the US) and the barkeep immediately pointed to the wall.

And there, on the wall, was a photo of my grandfather (and also his brother and the other young men who left Boveglio for the US where they started the Boveglio Club). There is also, apparently, a monument to them in the town/hamlet square right next to some other monument to something that seemed much more important but I cannot remember what.

So you see, the picture of my grandmother hanging above the fireplace in the palazzo was actually a picture of my grandfather hanging in a bar. Which, if you know us, seems apropos.

Wonder what family legend will be be debunked after they return from this trip?? Stay tuned and Viva Boveglio!