Tales of Me and the Husband

weekend links.

Serious beached whale status.

This Saturday is my birthday! Tonight I’m going out to dinner with friends. Tomorrow we’ll celebrate as a family. I’m excited. Throwback to last year. I’m obsessed with Anders but I sure do miss that belly.

Christmas party season is coming. How to make a cheese plate. (I don’t know the first thing.)

Enjoying the winter instead of enduring it. The Norwegians are onto something. Also, the whole thing about, “There’s no bad weather, there’s bad clothes” is certainly a good motto (though, after surviving last winter, I’d say there is sometimes… bad weather). We just got Parker this jacket with this in mind (at that price, I hope both he and Anders wear it!).

If politicians had man buns.

I don’t actually listen to this podcast, but since a lot of you probably do, for the Serial fans.

Amazon’s best books of 2015.

Do you oil pull? (William is prone to cavities, and has been oil pulling for at least ten minutes every day. He is the loudest swisher when he does. Good luck hearing the TV over his swishing!)

This new movie with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie looks interesting.

Pretty, simple necklace.

The best hikes in the world. Amazing.

Have a good weekend!

taking stock / 10.

Forever wanting to cuddle my babies more than they want to cuddle with me.

Making: plans to see friends! Oh how I’ve missed them.
Cooking: Last night, Ina’s Minestrone. It was soooo good.
Drinking: Shipyard Pumpkin! (My favorite of the many pumpkin beers)
Reading: this blog, a new find for me!
Wanting: This cozy sweater coat; I’d wear it and call it my “house coat.”

Looking: at messes everywhere!
Playing: with Magnatiles (and they are cool, you were right.)
Eating: soups, glorious soups! And oatmeal, and smoothies.
Wishing: our first floor were just a smidge bigger (it’s quite small)
Enjoying: the smell of this massaged onto my hands every night
Loving: watching Parker in his home environment again; he’s enjoying all of his toys, books, and just being in his space again
Hoping: that this winter goes easy on us.
Listening: the new Oh Hellos album!
Needing: a good winter jacket
Smelling: this candle and it smells good
Feeling: content
Wearing: my robe, every morning

What are the biggest cultural differences between America and Italy?

Another question I was asked on Facebook recently, so let’s have at it. (FYI: planning on plugging my way through all of the questions–budget, kids’ schooling, and all!)

There are pros and cons to both. (Uh, duh?) So let’s no one get offended.


Breakfast. You’ll go into a cafe and see desserts, desserts, and more desserts. Things with glaze, with chocolate, dusted with powdered sugar, and you think, “Ooh, can’t wait till after dinner to treat myself.” Nay! Have one right this very minute, you lucky devil you! Wrap that baby in a napkin (so your hands don’t get sticky) and eat it while standing at the counter downing your cappuccino in one gulp–as the Italians do! Needless to say, breakfast is quick and is not nearly as much of a “thing” as our sit-down with an omelette or pancakes and coffee the size of your head thing.

(However, worth noting for the second time: San Teo on Via di San Teodoro in Rome has THE GREATEST sweets/breakfast that I’ve had yet. In Italy, maybe ever. And great cappuccinos too. So even as I say all this, I literally skipped with glee every morning, heel taps and all, to get my chocolate croissant (sometimes two) to shove (them) in my mouth without a moment’s pause. That spinach and feta egg scramble can wait!)

Breastfeeding. The person who asked about my observations of cultural differences mentioned breastfeeding specifically. I’ve nursed all over, while walking down the streets of NYC, to strolling F21, to sitting on the ground at St. Peter’s while the kids waited in line to get in. My experience with nursing has always been a positive one. Literally, I’ve never had even the slightest side-eye. Now, is this because I’m super unobservant and people all around are looking at me with disgust? Is this because I have a face that says, “Don’t *!%# with me?” I’m really not sure, but I have never used a nursing cover, and I have never gotten a look. Here or abroad! Steve’s always making fun of me to others, “She’s literally looking for a fight. God help the person who says anything to Bridget about nursing in public.” So maybe it’s the second one.

Parenting. I’m really not sure how to answer this one (but it was another that was asked specifically). I’ve probably been so wrapped up in counting heads and making sure everyone is present, not running into the path of an oncoming motorcyclist, not picking up a stranger’s cigarette butt to chew on, that I haven’t truly witnessed parenting the Italian way. (Add to that, there’s a lot of tourists there. So I’m not always certain who’s Italian, who’s Norwegian, etc. Except in Orvieto–mostly was Orvietans!) Things that surprise me though? Small things: children being pushed in strollers who are older than they would be in the U.S. Children on bikes without helmets, or in the front passenger seat of a car when they’re still quite small. Also, children out late! The places worth eating at don’t open till 7. And, at least in Orvieto, opening time of 7 should really have an “ish” at the end. (We showed up at 7 more than once to have things just barely getting under way.) Flip side: I sort of like how children are a part of the evening scene. There’s something nice about bringing your kids places and knowing you won’t get a side eye for having a baby at a restaurant at 8 pm. We went to a pizza place in Lake Como that made a point to say on their website babies are not welcome in the evenings. I guess one too many crying babies ruined the ambience for other patrons’ meals? I don’t know if babysitting is as much of a thing here as it is in the States. It seems like if you have kids, you bring ’em and, a lot of the time, I like that. Anyone else have a similar experience?

Rules. On that same note, there’s simply fewer rules in Italy. This is good and bad. Sometimes there’s just tooooooo many rules in America that it’s tiresome while others are in place for a reason. Take building codes for instance. I’m not sure we saw a smoke alarm at any of our Italy stays. And steps, high ones, with no railings. Building codes are casual. Business hours are casual. A lot of things are, you guessed it, casual. There’s a certain lovely joie de vivre about it (and, sometimes equal parts, frustration about it.) A pool in your backyard doesn’t have to have a fence around it if you don’t want one (much more aesthetically pleasing, though less safe). You get to the car rental place by 9 and the person doesn’t come waltzing in until 9:30? When in Italy! On the flip-side, America is rule-happy. Rules upon rules upon rules. Rules for your rules! Lay off, America! It goes both ways.

Food/Restaurants. Food, in general, is cheaper here. More bang for your buck. Though, Rome is a bit more expensive than other places we’d been in Italy because it’s a big city (just as you would pay more in NYC for the same thing that costs less in the middle of Connecticut). Random things will cost more than you think they should, and other things will be way cheaper. For instance, Steve and I will each get two cappuccinos, and one really great pastry from a nice place, and it’s like 6 euros. Soda, though, isn’t that cheap abroad (good, I say!). Farmer’s markets are also cheaper than ours. Grocery stores are roughly similar, I think? Restaurant service can be hit or miss here, whereas I’m rarely disappointed by the service in the States. (Perhaps the difference is owed to waiters working for tips in the States whereas here there’s no tipping system?) And food–you’ll find many a great pizza, pasta, or sandwich but I found that I was really missing meat and vegetables. On the other hand, the pasta is really, really good and often homemade.

Lines. Get in line and hold your spot with confidence because lining up and waiting your turn is a little dicier here. Throw some elbows out if you have to.

Babies. The Italians love them some babies. You can’t get from point A to point B without multiple people making a fuss over your baby. And not just women! Men made a huge deal over Anders too, which I found especially unusual (and really sweet). In the States, men just do not make fusses over other people’s babies. American men need to get in touch with their feminine side. Too much testosterone. I say to you, American men: Turn off that football, put down that remote control, and go find yourselves a baby to fuss over. (Additional note: as soon as we got to Switzerland, the strangers-loving-on-babies promptly stopped! Moving from one country to the next showed such contrasts between the places.)

There are a million more ways in which the two differ. Those who’ve been to Italy, let me hear yours!

Peak District, Jane Austen, and the Chatsworth House.

 

Steve’s been telling us about the Peak District for years. Since I’ve known him, really. He went to school in the Sheffield area, twenty years ago now. Jordan was even born there. It’s one of his special places. In Zurich, we hopped on a plane and landed at Heathrow to then rent a car and drive north to Derbyshire to spend five quiet days there. (That was a long travel day. There are things I’d repeat and things I’d definitely not repeat. That was too much travel in one day for the little kids. Rhymes-with Shmeve did not communicate how far Peak District was from London. We’ve forgiven him. Only recently.) Add to that, once we left Italy, we no longer had working phones so we were mostly following maps (how antiquated!) and road signs. Steve managed to stay on his side of the road most of the time.


click to read more!!



Peak District is so completely serene. I find something so wonderful about looking at places that, you know, have looked the same year after year. That, if you didn’t know it was 2015, you could believe it was 100 years earlier. That’s the Peak District. What we were seeing was what Jane Austen saw too (I’ll have to keep interjecting with Jane Austen because, she’s Steve’s favorite, and because this was Jane Austen country through and through; I half-expected to see Mr. Darcy there.). From our kitchen window in Bamford, you could see for miles. The greenest fields, separated by winding manmade stone walls, forming a grid-like pattern wherever you look. The only other thing breaking up the green was all the farm life. Cows, sheep, they’re everywhere. Every morning you could watch the cows pass by in a line in the field across the street. They had an Eeyore like way about their walk. “Ho hum, back to work we go,” as they ambled along day after day. Yes, we always narrate for animals.


We went to Chatsworth House twice because it’s that great. The playground is amazing (one of the best ever, and great for all ages), the grounds, the cascading water steps, the maze, the petting zoo. There is so much to see there, a day isn’t even enough time. The Duke and Duchess of Derbyshire still live there! (Fun fact and, yes, Jane Austen related: Chatsworth House is Pemberley in the Keira Knightley version of P&P.)

Another day we visited Castleton, which I loved. I wanted to sit and eat a scone and drink some tea and take it all in. Castleton is adorable. The pubs and their low ceilings and fireplaces lit and roaring… oh! England is lovely. And the people?! They are so friendly. We said that over and over again.

The nice thing about Peak District is that you don’t have to do a whole lot to see the beauty of it. Simply going for a drive is beautiful. The fields are all around. We didn’t get to take many of the footpaths, but in a future visit, I’d love to hike all over the Peak District by footpath!

While we were there I ate some great fish and chips as well as meat pie (that was my favorite). Sort of like a shepherd’s pie/chicken pot pie. That sort of comfort food is so up my alley.

So, is the Peak District on your radar? I don’t think it’s high on people’s lists, but it should be. Serenity is inevitable there, and who doesn’t need some of that. Bakewell, Castleton, Chatsworth House (among other famous old estates). Go!

being home.

This is us up at 4:30 am.

We’re getting up at odd hours, between 4 and 5 am, and I’m wondering how long until Anders is back to his 7 am (we’re lucky) wake up. Ever? I made the mistake of staying up late because the past two mornings we were progressing–4 am to 5 am wake up–but then he backslid to 4:30. My mistake! I am lighting a candle in the morning, making coffee, putting my robe on, listening to music. Yes it’s jet lag, but it’s jet lag at home, in my home, and there’s a certain amount of loveliness that comes with being home.

Everyone’s asking about the trip and I say, “The trip was amazing. A grand adventure! But I could not maintain that frenetic pace of life forever.” Probably longer if it were just Steve and I, but even so, there’s comfort in being home. The other day I even took pleasure in the tiny mundane things that otherwise I’d miss entirely. Like putting my dishes away from my dishwasher, or cleaning my countertops. It’s my space again! It’s nice.

When I sign onto the computer, I never have fewer than five tabs open at once, doing too many things simultaneously and yet doing none of them well. Like just now. I picked up Anders, and then clicked over to ASOS to look for a pair of shoes, and then swung over to google organizational planners, and now here I am again. How about an organizational planner for my brain?

Anders is a different baby entirely then when we left. You usually slowly baby-proof the home. Ah, he’s found the plant! Time to move it. Oh, the stairs now, where’s the baby gate? We left, and he barely sat up, hardly mobile. And now? He’s crawling all over the first floor, up the steps, under the table, everywhere. This is a certain wake-up call to Parker, who’s used to setting toys up on the ground only to now discover a little blonde wrecking ball heading towards his train set up within moments of him laying it down. Little brothers.

I made chili the other day in my dutch oven. You know, that’s one thing that brought me comfort while away. A big pot of hot something-or-other in my dutch oven upon return. Steve’s excited to eat some with his first football game of the season.

But really, what do you do for organization? To stop the chatter in your brain as my sister calls it? I have to-do lists all over the place and can’t even keep them straight. I need a to-do list for my to-do lists: Organize to-do lists.

weekend links.

We’re home and going through stacks mail and to do lists like mad. Like this morning for instance: we’ve all been up since 4 am. Jet lag with little kids is for the birds, I tell you. Back to the grind! But, Massachusetts is bringing the nicest weather–70s and sunny! We’re glad to be home. 

This is my favorite song on Josh Garrels’ new album (though the video isn’t my favorite).

Since I was in England, I might’ve googled where some of The Holiday was filmed. (We didn’t go on a search for movie locations though. Considered it.)

This creamy pumpkin pasta looks so good.

These shoes, men and women alike!

I really like Nell’s Facebook page. A lot of good posts (this coming from someone who barely browses “The Book” these days). She’s worth a “like!”

So comfy and good for all seasons (I’m currently roasting in my white fleecy one).

Can’t wait to see this movie.

Balmain chaos. (Did you get anything?)

Have you ever made mashed cauliflower? I’m interested.

The Churchill War Museum (worth a visit if you’re in London) was full of these amazing propaganda posters from World War II. Felt like another world — especially ones like this!

Back Monday with a few more travel posts until it’s back to ho-hum normal life!

what do you do for your morning coffee?

interrupting all the travel-yammering to talk about coffee. the important stuff of life!
i’ve had a lot of coffee since being here. well, a lot of cappuccino (and some lattes + this too!). and while my cushy sofa and slippers are really speaking to me right about now, my drip coffee-maker has me a little less excited to return home to. i’ve enjoyed my foam-on-top hoity-toity cappuccinos for almost three months! it’s been the sweet stuff of life before the day begins full force on the hunt’s european tour de force! i mean, not a day (NOT A DAY) has gone by when the six (okay, four–anders and parker haven’t joined in… yet) of us haven’t fought/discussed whose adapter belongs to who so, as you see, i needed my morning cappuccino badly, soooo badly! 
so, what do you do for coffee in the morning? chemex? keurig? french press? some other form of hipster coffee that’s so exclusive i won’t even be able to pronounce it? why? how? what should i do? help me i’m poor.
that beautiful mug up there can be found here!

hello from london!

i have thiiiiis (imagine me holding my pointer finger and thumb very close together) much energy to jot a few notes here and then go to bed for my second to final night in europe. what?! we’ve been counting in months for so long now that to count in days (and single digit days no less) is absolutely absurd. enough about that for now.
london is so, so, so great. my biggest and best observations are that the people are soooo friendly, meat pie is delicious, i need more time to stroll notting hill at my leisure (the children’s shops!!), and to eat at every single place that strikes my fancy. traveling with this many (small-ish/not so small-ish) people is not conducive to ducking in and out of these places i see. so, here’s my promise to myself: i will be back, london! you and me, we are not through yet! 
even so, we’ve done a lot. tower of london, ridden the tube all over (parker gets super concerned any time we’re not ALL on or off the tube at the exact same time lest the doors shut and someone get separated. “come on mom! come on!” he’s always ushering me off and holding the doors open. it is ADORABLE.), buckingham palace, changing of the guards, diana memorial playground (so great!), breakfast at granger and co. with my friend lauren + family, borough market, saw harry and william get off the royal helicopter in kensington gardens (i’m not fibbing!), and eaten some great food. 
this place just has a good feel about it and i am going to be sad to leave it. who wants to house swap london for boston?!

Parker.

This little man hasn’t totally been himself lately and it’s been simultaneously driving me crazy, confusing me, and making me really sad. Parenting little ones is so much simpler than parenting them as they grow, in my opinion. When they’re little, you’re just keeping them alive! Now, it’s like the real work has begun. I miss those simpler days. Anyway, I’m sure it’s all a stage (right?! RIGHT?). And to be expected as his life has been turned a bit upside down over the last few months but I am looking forward to getting back into our routine where he feels more himself.
In any event, I have been making notes on my iPhone for the last several months of sweet things I want to remember about all the kids. Here’s some Parker ones (some are quite old as I started this list months ago!) since, you know, there’s not quite as much sweetness at the moment:
Steve caught him pulling out yet another tennis racket from the shed. “How many more of these do you need, Parker?” “Buff two.”
Steve took the boys for a walk one day while I got work done, and once I was done (and so eager for their return) I sat outside to wait on the front step. They rounded the corner and I see that Parker is in one Toms shoe, one flip flop, green board shorts, a rash guard, and a helmet (while standing on the glider board). Normal.
Parker didn’t want oatmeal for breakfast until I told him that he’d need to work outside because we needed his help moving mulch and that the other boys would’ve had healthy breakfasts to keep them strong. With a heavy sigh, and an okay, he ate.
Parker snuck into my room while I was nursing Anders to sleep and whispered really quietly, “I really like my books.”
Looking out the window to Parker walking across the driveway towards the house, rain boots on, goggles on, and a toolbox in each hand.
Parker flipping a shirt around before putting it on and exclaiming, “I know how to insides out it!”
Putting the boys to bed the first night in Zurich and Parker wanted to hold Anders hand while they fell asleep.
At Chatsworth House just the other day he was flipping through We’re Going on a Bear Hunt. He spent a few minutes doing this, and then said, “This last page makes me sad.” (I totally agreed.)

Wengen, Switzerland.

The Lauterbrunnen valley down below.
The walk to town from the place we were renting!

We decided on a Swiss fondue for dinner the first night and we picked up
the makings here. The two women working in the shop told us,
“Have a good fondue!” accent and all as we left.

A happy fondue customer.

The view from our place. The cloud cover is hiding even more mountains.

So many pictures in this one, so click to read more!!

We rented the second floor of that home you see. It was spectacular and we did not want to leave!



Pit stop on a walk for some nursing and some climbing…




Same view, different time of day, and less clouds. It changed all the time
depending on the weather. It was amazing.

It almost hurts to look at it, right?


The Lauterbrunnen valley down below (and the base of the Jung Frau to the left).

Is their a more Swiss picture?
Maybe if I was chowing on a Toblerone and ringing a cowbell at the same time
then this picture would be complete.

His first time on a swing!

Swiss don’t mess around with window boxes.

An early morning walk with Anders sleeping in the carrier.


Visiting Lauterbrunnen!

The view from behind Staubbach Falls.

Going straight from two weeks in Rome to Wengen was a little bit like… I’ve been trying to think of the perfect analogy for days but I’m coming up short. A desert to a lush rain forest? No. Being on espresso to being on chamomile tea (what??!)? No. Whatever. It’s going from Rome to Wengen and please, dear reader, do it and then tell me what the perfect analogy is because I know there is one.
We’re in the Peak District now and Steve was remarking at the pastures and green and serenity of it all and I said, “What about the Alps?” and he said something like yes, yes, they’re so beautiful but they’re almost aggressive. It’s true, what he said. Now let me explain. Arriving in Wengen (even the drive just to get there), is almost like a punch to the gut. It actually hurts the eyes. You have to look at them with one eye because two? You might melt, explode, combust. You almost want to yell at them: “Damn you, you show offs, gimme a break!!” Because they might just be the most beautiful thing ever and you want to take it all in and never leave but you know you’ll have to but yet! People do live here and why can’t you be them? They command your total attention but sometimes you just need to give your eyes a rest from it and stare at a wall or something because it is just too much.
I’ve said enough.
Wengen is sort of that perfectly Swiss mountain town, away from it all, where you half expect to wake up to yodeling or see Heidi running across the pastures below while you drink your hot chocolate. I just know Heidi has been here. From our kitchen window we could see cows, goats, dogs, horses, chickens. And the cowbells! Why don’t our cows wear cowbells? Let’s start a petition!
It was the perfect place to relax, to decompress. 16 nights in Rome were fantastic in so many ways but Wengen was like a deep breath (of really crisp, cold mountain air) after it all. We went for walks, we had fondue and wine. We moved slow in the mornings and went for walks in our pajamas. We let Parker and Anders be kids–playing, crawling. We looked outside at the ever-changing scenery. We arrived in snow and clouds, having no idea what the views were, really. And then! The clouds cleared, the sun was out, and there they were. Snow covered mountains all around. They don’t call them breath-taking for nothing.
Wengen is a totally pedestrian mountain town. A quiet farming town, that will really light up in the coming months when the ski season begins (the finish line for the ski world cup in January is a stone’s throw from the house!). The most action we saw were the farm animals grazing or the mailman delivering mail on a little electric bike. Never did I want to be a mailman so badly.
We wandered through Lauterbrunnen one day and I remarked that I could ride the train to and from Wengen all day long. The views, the tiny train stops complete with bright red geraniums in the window boxes (yes, even a little train stop!), the jangling of cowbells before you even spot the cows wearing them. It’s just a dream.
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