Mikey and Paigey

Flugzeug

2012-01-25T08:00:00.000-07:00

We're flying to Germany today to spend time with some of my very favorite people in the whole world. I can not wait for Ada to wear her "Ich bin bald 1" shirt and not have people think it's referring to her fuzzy head. I can not wait to show Mikey beautiful Meissen (and Berlin and Dresden). I can not wait to not have to share him with his professors. I can not wait for warm brötchen. I can not wait. I can not wait. I can not wait.

So che l’espiazione funziona

2012-01-24T02:23:00.002-07:00

I spoke in church on Sunday. The urge to prepare a talk half as long and get a translator was there the whole time I was writing out exactly what to say. But I wanted to try in Italian. Plus, my teacher offered to translate, so I really didn't have an excuse.

Here's the thing about giving a talk in a language that you only sort-of speak: it takes you a long time to get through it. I thought I'd be on the lean side of 8 minutes. I'm pretty sure it went over 12.

I learned a few things as I gave it though.

First, is that people are grateful when you put forth an honest effort. I approached in gratitude by several people who sincerely appreciated my speaking their language (or at least trying). Talks have been given with translators even since I've been in the ward, and I never thought much of it. But I think the Italian ward members are grateful that I am trying to be as much a part of their community as I can be.

Next I learned that I faked some people out. After the meeting people came up and starting talking to me in fast, no-holds-barred Italian. It was way over my head. I had to sheepishly tell them that while I am a fairly apt reader of Italian, my actual speaking has a long (oh so painfully long!) way to go.

Third, I had a personal experience with how the Spirit transcends language barriers. Though I knew what I was saying as I bore my testimony, the words didn't make the familiar feeling my mouth that comes when I speak of Christ in English. However, the feeling in my heart was the same.

Finally, I learned how important it is to bear our testimonies. It had been way too long since I had gotten up and shared what I believe. I didn't say anything different from the testimonies we heard just a few weeks ago. Strains of a love for our Savior, the belief in eternal families, belief that we can be made like God were both in my testimony and the testimonies I hear every week, but there is power in hearing yourself testify that something is true.

And I needed to hear myself last week. Which I guess makes one more thing that I learned: Bishops give us assignments that seem scarey and sometimes laughable, but I am learning again and again that their assignments to us are wise, inspired, and stretching opportunities. And I learned again that it's so important to stretch.

Firenze

2012-01-23T02:12:00.002-07:00

This is what 8 am looks like in Florence. You should try it.

Florence is stunning. I was stunned at how different it is from Bologna. The portici here truly make this city a unique place, but it's amazing to be somewhere without them because I realize how often I'm stuck in a tunnel and not looking up at the beauty and architecture I'm surely breezing past here in Bologna.

Ada and I went with CathBath and left Mikey home to write a paper. It was a long day (we woke up at 5 to catch the 6:43 train) but the cheap ticket was worth it. We also got there before any sort of lines started forming (also, let's be real, it's January. Not really the height of tourist season). And extra bonus and proof of the fact that the early bird gets the worm (and cheap tickets, and no lines, and views off the Duomo without 80 other tourists to look over).

We walked the length of the city first and then went straight to the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore. It's so impressive in real life. The whole day felt like a day in my Art History 202 class. And I wished I had my notes (or that my brain worked like Mikey's and I could recall every lecture from my undergrad at the drop of a hat). I'll have to read up before my next trip back.

The day was sunny and beautiful and relatively free of tourists. We didn't wait in any lines and didn't feel rushed to see this or that. We just absorbed. It was awesome.

la Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore

I remember feeling bad for Mikey as he wore Ada up the Asinelli Tower. I don't feel bad anymore. My climb up the cupola was that on steroids. When we got to the top lots of people asked how the climb was with a passenger. Not bad. Because I'm practically a baby myself and have all the spring in my step of a teenage mother. But my back was really glad we had the stroller waiting.

Giotto’s Campanile. And near the spot where Ada launched her hat overboard. May it rest in peace in Florence.

I didn't take too many photos. I know I'll be back and it was nice being able to take in the city with just my eyes, and not through a viewfinder. But I think next time we're there we need to spend at least two days. And I need an extra set of hands (or a few extra sets?) so I can use mine to write and sketch and make notes. And feed myself gelato.

Ada out front la Basilica di Santa Croce

What my birthday looked like

2012-01-20T11:35:00.001-07:00

Wednesday night Mikey and I ate until we seriously were about to keel over. And it was some of the best food I've had in my life. No lie.

Thursday was full of: Lasagna. Cupcakes. Ponticella. Visiting the Duomo and getting Ada/stroller stuck in the turnstile (why did I think it was a good idea again? . . .) More cupcakes (Sprinkle's style via CathBath). Painting my toenails and fingernails. Friday Night Lights.

So far, this year is happy.

Tomorrow, off to Florence.

In case you were wondering

2012-01-18T06:56:00.000-07:00

Three-and-a-half weeks and half-a-dozen explosions later and I was so ready to get back to cloth diapers. Now that I was a full-time disposable diaper-er for nearly a month, I think I can more honestly say that I prefer to cloth diaper (most of the time). Here's why:

- At least here (or in any big city I would guess) you can't just open the back door and toss the stinky offender into the big black garbage can (aka: personal dumpsters) for the garbage man to pick up on his rounds next week. Here, you have to put your shoes on, walk a half a block, and touch a dumpster to throw a diaper away. Unless you want it sitting in your house. Sans-diaper genie (do those even exist in Italy?). Stinky. So the whole "convenience" of just throwing them away really wasn't convenient at all for me. Rather, I'd have a sack of dirty diapers by the front door waiting for the next time I felt like putting on my shoes and braving the cold. And the dumpster. And finding my keys.

- Explosions. Remember that up-the-backer that happened just hours after I put a disposable on Ada for the first time in over 9 months? It wasn't the last. I had more than two a week. And it stains. And it's nasty. And I hated it worse than I hate occasional cloth diaper leaks.

- I would forget to change Ada. A redeeming quality (that can easily be used as a crutch for forgetfulness/laziness/non-attentiveness) of disposable diapers is they can last for HOURS (read: 8, 9, 10, 12, 18?) and not leak (unless it's poop. Then you're toast). I changed Ada before church, some time before 8 AM, and didn't realize until NEARLY TWELVE HOURS LATER that I hadn't changed her since. That's gross. And I felt terrible about it. And the entire diaper was damp. On the outside. I shouldn't use disposables. I'm too prone to take advantage of the system.

- Disposables are expensive (especially in Costco-less Italy) and they hurt the environment.

- Ada had two bouts with diaper rash (see: I would forget to change Ada). It's no wonder why--the moisture just sits there trapped against her skin in the unbreathable plastic germ sauna. Yummy.

- It was so hard to get a disposable on her. They're so flimsy and thin (part of the reason why people like them, so this isn't all bad) but it means that every wiggle (as in, approximately 23 times per second) I would have to readjust the diaper, re-flatten, recenter . . . the games never end with The Lou. She's a flipper. With gDiapers, the Velcro tabs are in the back anyway. And it stays flat and open despite baby-hyper-activity. I could give you a play by play of why it's easier. But just know, for me and my baby, it simply is.

- Cloth diapers win the cuteness contest every time.

Mikey wouldn't agree with all of these. He admitted he was a bit sad to return to cloth because, in his words, "I don't like dissecting the diaper." But we're compromising. Disposables for night-time and church. Cloth the rest. I think we're really going to be happy with it.

Still connected to my village

2012-01-17T03:08:00.001-07:00

After she woke up from her afternoon nap, I felt stupid for being flustered and crying that morning. Before she went down I wrote my mom and dad a hurried email, "any way we could chat for a few minutes this morning? i know your mornings are already early and busy and every thing else, i just want a little ada advice."

Even though I knew it inside, I needed my parents to reaffirm to me that this is normal child behavior. That Ada is okay. That I'm doing fine. That she's growing and developing and we just need to keep on keeping on.

They called and our minutes quickly turned to hours. I had forgotten it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day back in the States, but it was a welcome surprise to have so much time to sit and be with my family. Even if it was through a screen. The Lou didn't seem to mind either. She played peek-a-boo and copied movements she saw my parents doing. We laughed at her silliness and they reassured me about her tantrums. It felt so good.

I needed my parents to help me refocus my energy and perspective. With a few adjustments I saw her as a picture of vibrance and energy, rather than a ball of flailing limbs and tears. I needed my parents to help me see her seemingly violent outbursts as her only means of expressing her frustrations. I had never thought about her feeling trapped in a little body without words and fine movements, but I came to see her then as a smart, precocious baby with more to say than she is able to.

The rest of the day was nearly picture perfect. And I was grateful that I can still be connected to my village even though I'm across a continent, an ocean, and the Tyrrhenian Sea. We never are too far away with technology.

This morning I read a friend's post about her friend's son being diagnosed with brain cancer. I felt a shadow of the unspeakable sorrow that mother must feel. That feeling was accompanied by a pang of guilt for getting so caught up in tantrums that I failed to see how full of life my daughter is. And the guilt was quickly replaced with a swell of gratitude for health and safety and security.

I can't wait for her to wake up from her nap. In Rosie's words, "Every moment feels like sunlight. We can feel it, we can love it, but we cannot bottle it up for later. And no matter how much time we get with our loved ones, it will never be enough. Nothing short of eternity will do."

At the park last week. If only you could see how muddy we were when we got home.

Proceed with caution

2012-01-16T05:49:00.000-07:00

On Friday I learned that Nutella Jars aren't made out of safety glass. But peeling off shards of glass and scraping off possibly glass-dust-filled-chocolate-hazelnut spread from the mass of non-glass-dust-filled-chocolate-hazelnut spread in my hand was as time consuming as it was worth it.

Mike and I estimate we only lost about 3%.

Worth it.

Also, Ada has started patting me on the back when I pick her up and hold her. I think it's adorable.

Multiplied ignorance

2012-01-13T01:43:00.001-07:00

I got excited about art again last week.

It feels like a while since I've had an idea driving me. Every painting I begin here starts with a sketch of some beautiful pocket of the city. And it ends with me going, "I'd rather be painting pattern."

But I feel so disconnected from my pattern paintings right now. I don't think I'm done exploring the idea of ancestry and outgrowth and perpetuity, but it's hard to feel invested in that body of work conceptually when I am filled with an overriding sense of how disconnected I feel from my roots right now. So exploring family through patterns will remain on the back burner until I'm charged by it again.

I was reading the October Liahona and came across a quote from Joseph Smith about translating the Book of Mormon. He said:

"I translated the Book of Mormon . . . in which wonderful event I stood alone, an unlearned youth to combat worldly wisdom and multiplied ignorance."

Multiplied ignorance.

That phrase echoed around in my skull for a bit before I grabbed my sketchbook and started writing. The idea of multiplied ignorance is so pervasive here. I think about it everyday--the "truths" that have been distorted or bent or misshapen or complicated--are everywhere. And I think it's relavent. Everyone is seeking truth.

Can I represent this idea using pattern? (Another thing that is ubiquitous here).

Pattern distorting, bending in on itself, multiplying, complicating its form, pattern that has a seeming life of its own, folding pattern, loosing integrity of form.

I have a few ideas brewing about how to pursue this new idea.

I also prepped 15 of my bite-sized Bologna papers to begin painting on. I've also been taking photos. It just seems criminal to not paint the city while living here. Now that I have another body of work to fuel my brain, these little paintings can act almost like exercises, scales, arpeggios, veggies. . .

And I've found a focus for collaging. I want to make little icon collages.

I need to get researching.

I'm excited again.

Month 11

2012-01-12T05:10:00.000-07:00

My sweet baby is becoming less of a baby every day. At this rate, I swear she'll be completely independent by age 3. (Sigh). Also, this past month seemed really, really long, not in a bad way, just in a "Whoa, that picture is from December? That feels like ages ago," sort of way.

I hope the next month feels even longer. I can't handle the thought of having a one-year-old yet.

Wait until I tell your mother

2012-01-09T12:49:00.001-07:00

Strange windows and used-to-be windows overlooking the Piazza Santo Stefano

One of my besties is staying with us for a bit. It's been gratifying to see our beloved red futon used. When we found this place one of the first things I thought when I saw it was, "House guests." Really flexible, don't-mind-sharing-a-microscopic-bathroom, don't-mind-not-really-having-privacy house guests. She is our third. And it's been absolutely delightful.

Sunday afternoon we went to the Basilica of Santo Stefano. It's a complex of seven churches built hundreds of years apart but all connected with cloisters or other edifices. The oldest church, The Church of the Sepulcher (where the body of the patron saint of Bologna, San Petronius laid before being moved to the Basilica later built in his honor in the Piazza Maggiore), was originally built in the 5th century. It in, there is a column of black, African marble that was supposedly left over from the temple of Isis that the Church of the Sepulcher was built over, gives you 200 years of indulgences every time you visit. (Every time. As in, "Oh shoot! My 200 years is almost up! I'd better get back to Santo Stefano in a jiffy!) My futon is looking that much more appealing now, yes? What would you do with 200 years of indulgences, my friend?

Detail of the exterior of The Church of the Sepulcher as seen from the adjacent cloister.

Ada enjoyed increasing independence as we let her walk around the church as she liked. Michael was nearby but neither of us hovered close. When I later tried to pick her up and move her to another room she screamed and hollered and flailed her little self-determined body in every direction. She made me feel as embarrassed as I have ever felt as a mother in public. Too bad I couldn't use the trick I learned at one of my baby showers because I don't know how to say it in Italian. (Trick: When your child is screaming in public, just look at them and sternly say, "Wait until you get home and I tell your mother about the way you've been acting. She won't be happy." Goal: Learn to say this in Italian).

The church of San Vitale and Martyr Sant'Agricola was originally dedicated to St. Peter because it was rumored to have housed his tomb. After the Pope caught wind that it was drawing pilgrims from the majestic Basilica of Saint Peter in Rome, however, he ordered that this church be covered over and filled with dirt until rededicated. It was left buried for nearly 70 years until rededicated to the first martyrs of Bologna (victims of the persecution of Diocletian, an emperor in the 3rd century who was a little nuts-o and killed lots of people and burned lots of churches).

Preserved mosaics from the church when it was dedicated to S. Peter.

One thing I loved about the church was all of the fascinating brick work. It was almost Byzantine in detail and form. Like really big mosaics. Made of brick. All over the exterior of the building (and in that sense, it was very un-Byzantine). But because the churches were built (and rebuilt) in such a wide variety of times, Santo Stefano has so many architectural and decorative motifs. I think I'll go there and sketch more often when the weather warms up.

A creepy capitol.

A darling baby.

Most of Ada's time was spent running. But for a brief moment she stood and looked around. I wonder if she'll ever have flashes of memory and remember the beautiful places she visited when she was just learning to walk.

Dear Ada, You practiced walking at la Basilica di Santo Stefano. It was good practice because the ground was pretty uneven in spots. You didn't mind getting tripped though. It just meant you got to take an extra close look at all of the interesting things that made up the floor.

A classic attempt at trying to take a picture of my girl.

I have confidence in sunshine

2012-01-06T06:09:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about confidence lately. Mostly, I've been thinking about what affect others' confidence in me has on my behavior.

In a letter I recently got from my dad, he said I am a "good and attentive mother". He has confidence in my ability to mother Ada.
My grandparents have confidence in my art.
Mike has confidence in my testimony.

In general, I think others' confidence in us makes us more confident in ourselves. But why is this so? Is it because we believe them? Is it because we feel a responsibility to live up to their confidence in us? No matter where the motivation stems from, I'm grateful to be surrounded by people who believe in me.

If I could pick a theme that I learned over and over again in 2011 it would be that I am more capable than I thought I was. I think we all are more capable than we think we are. We are capable of so much because we are divine beings. We have a spiritual pedigree that is far beyond our comprehension. Our spirits animate our bodies. And our spirits were created by an omniscient Father. And we can be endowed with as much power and help from Him as we ask for.

In that spirit, two of my resolutions are to: 1) Ask for help more readily, and 2) Let others know that I have confidence in them.

Guess who has top teeth?

The view from here

2012-01-05T05:22:00.000-07:00

On Monday we hiked to the top of Asinelli Tower. It was Mike's idea and it seemed like a beautiful way to start the New Year together. Crazy at it seems, we hadn't yet been to top of the iconic structure and we've been here nearly a third of a year! We go to the top just as the sun was setting over the cold and foggy city below.

The main Duomo is the large structure. The orangey glowing lights are the buildings surrounding the Piazza Maggiore. The long straight road is Rizzoli/Ugo Bassi. We live just a little left of the Duomo in that mass of fuzzy structures.

If you've got a really good eye you can spot SAIS, where Mike goes to school. (If you divided the photo into four quadrants, it would be in the lower right-hand corner of the upper left-hand quadrant. Follow?)

Looking out the front side of the tower out one of the tiny "windows." Christmas lights are strung all the way down the front of it. You can see it lit up in the second photo down of this post.

The tower is nearly 100 meters tall (over 325 feet for you non-metric people . . . err . . . me) and built in the 10th century. Wealthy families built the towers as symbols of power and prestige. A local told us the tower is nicknamed "Donkey Tower" (asinelli means donkey in Italian) because the man who built it used all his money on it and all he had left after it was complete was his donkey.

In the 14th century, it became property of the city and was used for a prison, a watch tower to keep an eye on the Mercato di Mezzo (which is now via Rizzoli) where revolts and riots tended to spring up. During WWII it was used as a sight post to help direct rescue operations to places hit by allied bombs (Bologna was heavily bombed during WWII because of it's importance as a transportation hub in Northern Italy).

Now it has a radio tower on top and tourists climb up and down all day. But it sure provides a beautiful view. Even on hazy days.

Looking out a window on the way up.

My beautiful Ada Louise dangling in the Baby Bjorn on the way down a set of particularly steep and ladder-like stairs.

I'm struck with the thought, "I really live here" nearly every day. At the top of the tower it rang like an alarm clock in my head. It's incredible. But the chiming also made me feel like I need to get busy making the most of my time left in Bologna.

There was also something about being high in the air and taking in a long view that made me feel powerful. As I stood there and gazed over miles and miles of crowded medieval city, the thought struck me, "I'm going to own 2012."

We rang it in together

2012-01-04T08:21:00.002-07:00

We arrived back in Bologna the morning of the 31st. Our friends asked if we were interested in going to see the traditional burning of the effigy in the Piazza Maggiore at midnight, but by 8 pm we were all asleep.

The booms of firecrackers woke all three of us up at midnight, but after 15 minutes when the noise subsided, none of us could fall back asleep. Mike worked on preparing his Sunday School lesson, and I gave Ada a review of 2011.

"I thought you would be born in January," I told her, "or at least by your due date. But I had to wait until nearly the middle of February before I got to hold you. It was a very special day."

"I defended my thesis in March," I said. "It was a strange day where I began to reconcile the different parts of me. The mother-scholar-artist-adventurer in me. All rolled up into one."

"We road tripped to Idaho in April to take your Aunt Lou back to school. Then I spoke at commencement. I talked about you. I think it was born out of my desire to make my school-self and mother-self the same thing. I wanted to be one-self. It helped me."

"You didn't see the sun until May. Spring was late in coming this year and the weather seemed to want to stay hazy and cold forever. But the sun came. We spent lots of time outside on blankets. This was all before you could crawl, of course."

"We lived at Grandma and Grandpa Crosland's house in June. With your Aunt OlderAndWiserToo. I look back on those days and they seem so quite and perfect. Not that things are too hectic now, but I don't think I'll ever have a period of my life again quite like that one."

"July and August were spent at your Grandma and Grandpa Anderson's house. We were essentially nomads all summer. It taught me that I'm a terrible nomad. I'm too territorial. I like my own space and my own things. We also went to the beach. You liked the beach. You took long naps and ate lots of sand. You also lost three pacifiers on that trip. We started using that ugly thing that hooks them to your clothes after that.

"We moved here in September. But it feels like a lot longer ago than that. We've been here for almost four months. By the time we leave you will have lived longer in Italy than in America. Isn't that cool? I think had I know the nitty gritty of what my life would look like here, I would have been more scared than I was to come over. But it just takes adjustments. And I love it here. With you. With Dad. That's the most important thing.

"In October we filmed with the crew. You loved your new friends and they were pretty fond of you too. We're still waiting to see our episode. . . It will be like a little digital time capsule when we finally get to see it."

"November was filled with lots of ups and downs and lots of Thanksgiving meals."

"December just happened. Do you remember it? We went to Utah and you got to be with your family again. I wish we could be closer to family sometimes. You loved them so much. But we'll be back in Utah soon, and I'm sure we'll miss being here. That's the funny thing about life. You always wish for things you used to have, or will someday have. But it's best to learn to wish for the present, because it's always available to us."

It was a tender way to ring in the New Year. In my bed with my baby girl, talking about all the ways she changed my life. It makes me excited for all that 2012 has in store for our family. If it's anything like 2011, there will be lots of moves, lots of new places to explore, and lots of new experiences.

The blurriness of tears

2012-01-03T05:27:00.000-07:00

When we landed on the runway I couldn't believe I was home already. The metal letters spelling out the name of the airport, Aeroporto G. Marconi Bologna, were familiar. I remember thinking how charming they were when we first landed in September.

We're back. Did we even leave?

Our time in Utah was far too short. With Christmas and two weddings, it made the whole trip one big blur. A blur full of family and food and laughter and hugs and kisses. It was a joyous blur. But a tiring one.

I miss it already. Blurriness and all.

I cried the night before we left. It just wasn't long enough. I wasn't ready to go back to Italy. I felt so at home in Utah; speaking English to everyone, knowing just what was going on, driving a car, gazing at the imposing mountains, the dry cold air. I felt so able and agile. I could get anywhere and say anything.

It is a freedom I think I've taken for granted my entire life.

But when we opened the door to our little apartment, I felt a heavy sense of belonging. At least for now. I belong here, far away from Utah, but close to the most important things. For now.

Merriment lasted all day

2012-01-02T07:44:00.000-07:00


Ada Lou and Uncle Moglie on Christmas Eve

Our Christmas was probably a lot like most everyone elses'. The gift giving was over quickly, but the merriment lasted all day. It felt so good to be with family.

Being a parent on Christmas was fun first though. I felt an immense sense of pride when Ada played with her toy as much as the wrapping paper. The girl went giddy for the red rocking chair that Grandpa refinished. And I think she may just have to wear that sweater-y pajama-y outfit until Spring. It's so cozy and soft I could snuggle her all day (if she would let me).

It took Ada quite a while to open her gifts because she would pause after every slight wrapping-paper-tear to clap for herself. Of course we all joined in on the applause. She seemed extremely proud of herself. It made me wonder if maybe it's a good thing we're far away. The girl would walk around with an even bigger baby ego.

Am I in trouble for touching this?

Give me your answer true

2011-12-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

This pretty lady is getting hitched today. I can't wait.

Image credit via

From ours to yours

2011-12-25T07:27:00.000-07:00

In transit

2011-12-24T08:00:00.000-07:00

We're flying back to Utah today.

I thought I was scared for the flight over here. That was pre-walking, pre-I-have-a-very-strong-will-of-my-own Ada, pre-sitting-is-for-squares. Now I'm scared x2.

Wish us (lots of) luck.

Advent Calender Day 24: Christmas jammies for Ada (on the aereo)

Christmas Song: I Saw Three Ships by The Lower Lights

&lt;p&gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href="http://thelowerlights.bandcamp.com/track/i-saw-three-ships"&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;I Saw Three Ships by The Lower Lights&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/p&amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;&lt;/p&gt;

Vivi Natale

2011-12-23T12:13:00.002-07:00

Remember our plan to go ice skating?

I was pretty excited about it, but when we got there the place was over-run with rowdy, rambunctious, rapidly skating ragazzi. We thought it would be fine to have Ada in the Baby Bjorn, but after envisioning a collision with one of the said ragazzi, we opted to just watch for a bit and buy a frittelle con Nutella with about fifty 5 cent pieces (I am the worst at using change. And when you live some place that has 8 DIFFERENT COINS it becomes a real issue).

Vivi Natale 2011

Watching the ragazzi and silently thanking us for not throwing her in the ring with them.

We thought about getting a slice off the old la porchetta but thought better of it . . .

Ada, nearly in a food coma and covered in Nutella.

We walked around Parco della Montagnola and ate our fritelle. Ada enjoyed it a lot. Much more tasty than the ice we all could have eaten had we taken a spill on the rink.

The night was so beautiful. We strolled through some Christmas Markets on the way home and I showed Mike the nativity I would buy if we weren't starving students. (Sigh). It's so beautiful.

Lights strung all the way down Via dell'Independenza.

Advent Calender Day 23: Walk to Basilica di Santo Stefano

Christmas Song: God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman by Joshua James

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by Joshua James on Grooveshark

Respite

2011-12-22T02:19:00.002-07:00

It finally feels like Christmas break.

We stayed up late last night watching our favorite show, slept in this morning, ate cereal, made a fort, and read on the couch while Ada took her morning nap.

We've so needed this.

Advent Calender Day 22: Walk through Altabella Christmas Market

Christmas Song: Winter Song by Sarah Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson

Winter Song by Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson on Grooveshark

Bumper bike

2011-12-21T05:31:00.000-07:00

A porta on Castiglion I pass on my ride to school.

I got hit by a car yesterday.

Okay, hit may be a bit dramatic. Bumped. Backed into. And when I say, "I" I guess I should say, "My bike."

But I was riding it.

I was far less angry than the old lady who watched the guy back into me (it wasn't a slow, creeping crawl in reverse, it was an Italian reverse—con forte!) He backed into my rear fender and pushed me a foot or so. I bent my fender back and everything was fine. I gave him a good stink-eye. But I was late to class already, so I rode off without saying anything.

I could hear the old lady bawling him out as I pedaled away. She's got my back. Apparently.

Advent Calender Day 21: Ice Skating and visiting the Christmas Festival

Christmas Song: I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Frank Sinatra

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm by Frank Sinatra on Grooveshark

An up-the-backer

2011-12-20T05:24:00.001-07:00

"Ten months is respectable."

I hear this (or something similar: "Nine months is respectable . . .") often when Mike gets in a cloth-diapering rut. He doesn't like having to put the diaper in the bin or flush the liner. I keep telling Mike he's not sick of cloth diapering, he's sick of diapering. Period. (Mamma mia, have we got many more years of changing diapers ahead of us . . .) Diapering isn't fun or glamorous any way you slice it.

In preparation for our big (read: way too painfully short) trip back to The States, I bought a package of disposable diapers last week. Ada and I determined it would be best to test-drive said disposables (I had no clue what size to buy, which kind to get; I felt a bit silly and was glad my friend was there to walk me through it) before we got on a plane and had some unforeseen catastrophe.

This was Ada's first time in a disposable diaper since she was just weeks old and we were still cheering for every bowel movement. The days of cheering for poops are long over.

Diaper covers drying on the bathroom radiator.

The diaper was only a few hours old when I noticed an unsightly looking stain on the back of Ada's shirt. Upon closer inspection I realized what it was: an up-the-backer explosion. This was a mothering first. And an unwelcome first at that.

So far, I'm not overly impressed with the disposables. I even went for the more expensive option (nearly 8 Euros for 20 diapers), thinking they would for sure exceed all diapering expectations and make me want to switch over to the ease and simplicity of disposables.

Sporting the disposables. I must say it makes her bum look so tiny comparatively...

Nothing is easy or simple about changing Ada's clothes. It takes lots of singing, and distractions and tears and time. She's not a big fan of getting handled.

I'll be interested to see what I think after a week+ of using disposables in Utah. Bets on whether I'll make the switch?

Advent Calender: Christmas candy

Christmas Song: Christmas Wish by She & Him

Christmas Wish by She & Him on Grooveshark

Babbo Natale

2011-12-19T07:48:00.003-07:00

My family keeps saying things like, "We can't wait to play with Ada! But she probably won't come to any of us anyway . . ."

I just want to set the record straight once and for all.

The baby is a curious extravert.

She loved Babbo Natale and was especially enamored with his beard. The ward thought it was quite funny when she toddled up to him, rather than trying to squirm away. She wouldn't look at the camera (or her mother) for a second. It meant taking her eyes off of this interesting person.

Ada and Babbo Natale at the ward Christmas party. He came with two people dressed as reindeer, pulling him on the bishop's chair.

Before the party we met with several ward members and carolled in the Piazza Maggiore. It was beautiful. And festive. And all the old ladies hoovered around us rather that having to go door to door. It may be the one of the first times I've thought, "The Italians are so efficient!" (They're meticulous, and fine, and everything they do is high quality. But efficient . . .)

After we went to the church and ate (and ate and ate and ate). There's one oven in the little kitchen down stairs. But there were probably a dozen trays of steaming entrees. I had lasagne that literally melted in my mouth. I've never really understood the term before. Now I get it.

Advent Calender Day 19: Read this talk by Grandpa Neal

Christmas Song: Get Behind Me, Santa by Sufjan Stevens

Get Behind Me, Santa by Sufjan Stevens on Grooveshark

Our voices bounced and blended

2011-12-18T14:33:00.000-07:00

Even the statues are Christmas-y (in Piazza Galvani)

I loved this past weekend. It was full of Christmas-y things and my two favorite people in the world. Tonight we attended a concert/sing-a-long that one of the SAIS-ers was in. It was in a beautiful Anglican Church on a corner just down the street from our house. Though the choir was small, it was full of beautiful voices. I loved singing Christmas Carols in the large echo-y church. It gave a sort of angelic sound to our voices as they bounced and blended in the domed ceilings above our heads. I felt the Spirit, what was called, "that clenching feeling that wraps around every atom in your body and electrifies it with joy," as we sang together.

Mike commented later that maybe it's that feeling—that spiritual, joyful, praising, otherly feeling—that people associate with Christmas that makes it so magical. Maybe it's the whisperings of the Spirit tugging on their souls and saying, "Isn't life worth living? Isn't humanity beautiful? Isn't it wonderful that we have a Savior?" Maybe getting caught up in "Spirit of Christmas" is really just putting ourselves in places where the Holy Spirit can communicate to our own spirits more easily. Places like a church, with hundreds of community members, speaking dozens of languages, but all singing about a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes over 2000 years ago. Or in the Piazza Maggiore where carolers remind us of the tidings brought by angels. Or in our homes where we take a little more time to focus on someone besides ourselves.

People talk about wishing the Spirit of Christmas could last all year. I believe it can.

Advent Calender Day 18: Caroling by Candlelight (a concert/sing-a-long at a nearby Anglican Church)

Christmas Song: Here We Come a Wassailing by Kate Rugsby

Here We Come a Wassailing by Kate Rusby on Grooveshark

Merrily on High

2011-12-17T02:44:00.000-07:00

A Maddona that looks over the Piazza Maggiore

Advent Calender Day 17: Caroling in the Piazza Maggiore with some ward members (in Italian!)

Christmas Song: Ding Dong Merrily on High (because Mike and I joke about this song every day)

Ding Dong Merrily On High by Mormon Tabernacle Choir on Grooveshark