Italy with three children: what I learned

We just returned from a sixteen day trip to Italy: Jeff, myself, our good (and brave) friend Ruth, and the three kids.  

People thought we were crazy to go to Italy with the kids.  It was a bit crazy, a bit ambitious, but entirely doable, and I would go again.

These are some the things I learned about travelling with a 7 year old, 4 year old, and 6 month old.

1.  Gravol is your friend.  I gave the boys each a chewable kids gravol just before each flight, which calmed them down and helped them sleep.  They woke up with some rest and ability to function once in Italy, and back at home.  I, on the other hand, was a mess, but so accustomed to sleep deprivation was able to function.

2.  Young kids require stuff.  As kids get older, the amount of stuff connected with travelling is reduced.  Baby Owen required a car seat, a portable sleeping tent, diapers, a stroller, and a sling.  Four year old Cameron needed a booster seat.  Seven year old John needed some clothes.  That's just the way it is.

3.  The Baby Star Peapod travel bed is excellent.  This is, essentially, a tent that folds into a smallish bag that I put in my suitcase.  Owen slept in it, and we also took it to the beach.  Very cool.

4.  The Nintendo DS is helpful.  John brought his DS, which is extraordinarily helpful for long car trips and the airport.  Unfortunately, charging it was challenging with the stronger European voltage, so we could not rely on it; regardless, it was useful.

5.  On the fly games are useful.  Twenty questions is excellent for the car, as is a new restaurant oriented game that I just developed: the silent game!  Who can be the quietest longest?  Surprisingly fun!

6.  Reduce your expectations.  Do not think you can do nearly the same amount as a adult.  I felt if I could see 10% of what I would normally without children I would be happy.  In Florence, Ruth went to the Uffitzi, the Duomo, a Galileo museum, and did some shopping.  We went to a kid oriented Leondardo DaVinci museum and I dashed off early one morning to check out Michelangelo's David.

7.  Bribery works.  We bought the kids lots of gelato and small little toys and souvenirs.  This made them happy.

8.  Don't worry too much about nutrition.  Sometimes just getting enough food into the kids is a positive thing.  We didn't worry too much about vegetables and tried to have them eat fruit regularly.

9.  Don't get upset.  Whatever happens, do not get upset.  We had some pretty intense travel experiences: things going wrong, getting lost, vomit.  We generally stayed calm, and worked through the problem.  After a particularly stressful day driving from Rome to Florence in a far too large van, John remarked he was bored.  I felt extremely pleased we had been successful at not expressing our worry to the children.

10.  Savour the small moments.  Since we are going to be missing some of the things one would see without children, we had to enjoy some of the smaller, but perhaps more profound moments.... we are eating gelato in a piazza.  We are on the beach in Italy.  The children are running through the ruins of Pompeii.  Fun stuff.

Good-bye

Good-bye to...

1.  Summer.  While experiencing the joy that is the brief Canadian summer, it seems like it will last forever.  Swimming, eating outside, hiking: it is so easy, so joyous, and in reality so brief.  I am sad it is over.

2.  Jack Layton.  A decent man, activist, and politician who died too young.  The outpouring of grief that the country shared reflects the integrity with which he acted.

3.  The current provincial government.  I'm not sure what will happen on election day, but hope that Tim Hudak is not elected premier.

4.  University students, who have left home to start school.  I loved my university days, and feel a bit envious.  Yay beer.

5.  Goderich trees.  Goderich is one of the loveliest towns in Canada, and the recent tornado removed hundreds (thousands?) of old beautiful trees.  Every tree in the octagonal square is gone.  Very sad.

On a somewhat different note, Hamilton appears to be an increasingly interesting and vibrant place to live, while Toronto becomes more challenging.  I am curious to see how both cities evolve.  Or devolve.

Observations about camp and England

Written August 12th

I am back up at camp, after being at home for five days, during which time I did a bunch of laundry, visited with family and friends, attended a wedding, and shuttled John to a soccer practice and game.  It was pretty busy, and I felt somewhat scattered, as I had so many little details to deal with. 

But now, back at camp, I sit under a tree by the trailer: watching the boys play in a large sand pit; listening to people chat on the dining hall deck; observing a group of dancers.  Owen is checking out his hands.  For a few moments, there is calm.

There is something peculiar about being away for a week, away from everything, and then returning.  The last time we were away for a weekend, Amy Winehouse died and the Norway attacks occurred.  This time, we returned to the ongoing but somewhat resolved debt crisis, super duper stock market fluctuations, and riots in England.  Wow, and weren’t those quite the riots in England???  There certainly is a large group of people – hmmmmm……perhaps we could call them the working class – who are pretty pissed off. 

I can’t help but contrast another big news event from England, from earlier in the year – the wedding hoopla of William and Kate.  What a media frenzy! 

We are making a big deal out events that lack substance (the royal wedding, the subsequent royal tour of Canada, the Stanley Cup) to sidetrack us from what is really important (poverty, economic crisis, climate change, peak oil).  My theory is that the people of England, after the wedding hoopla had subsided, realized that they were still unemployed, or underemployed, or struggling to survive, and that watching two rich privileged people get married didn’t change their lives.

And they were pretty angry about that.

Camp is free choice

Written August 5th

I am up at a groovy summer camp, which I attended as a kid.

We moved a trailer here in mid-spring, the trailer Jeff used to camp in a variety of provincial parks when growing up.  It has provided a tremendous opportunity for us to slip up here on weekends, as the drive is only two hours from home.  We have placed the trailer by a dining hall, which is convenient for meals, which we sometimes purchase, and bathroom access.  There is a lovely pond about a five minute walk from our trailer, which gives far enough away I feel pretty comfortable allowing the boys to run free while close enough we can pop down for a swim.  Very fun. 

John and Cameron are both in a kids’ program, and I am hanging out with Owen.  He, at four months old, is pretty content to squirm on the ground and look at his hands. 

The other day John was complaining he was bored; perhaps the lack of technology or television caused him to pause and wonder what to do.  And his comment caused me to think, and respond that this place was all about free choice, which, when at school, kids love.  School is such a structured environment, so kids embrace 30 minutes of free time like it is gold.  Providing a framework seemed to help:  you can do what you want here, as long as you are not hurting anyone else, and you are doing it in a peaceful and beautiful environment.  There are kids your age, yummy food, two playgrounds, a sandbox, games, art supplies, and we can go swimming.  There isn’t easy access to technology, although still a fair bit kicking around. 

This camp is free choice.  Cool. 

Blogs as therapy

I have been thinking lately about the whole blog thing, about how people write about their lives, share extremely personal thoughts, and then them out into the world.

I remember once I stumbled across a blog written by a woman who had miscarried two babies, both around 20  weeks.  She was very connected to them, had named them, and described in detail what happened and how poorly she was coping with the loss of her children.  The last entry I read discussed how she was going to get therapy, which I was pleased to read, as I have never come across anyone as incredibly sad as this woman.

I have come to the conclusion that writing a blog is very therapeutic.  Somehow, the process of writing down the thoughts that are rambling through my brain, my heart, my life, and then publishing those ideas allows me to internalize them more effectively than if I was just simply thinking about them and chatting with friends.  A small number of people read suburban activist regularly, which is great.  But for me, what is even more powerful is the thinking that is required to write coherently about what is on my mind.

A high school teacher once said we should recognize the fact that while we were still students we should appreciate that someone had to read what we were writing.  Once we were out of school, that would no longer be the case... and in retrospect, I realize there is a tremendous amount of value in having to write an essay about a topic, as to do that requires a demonstration of understanding.  Having a blog, even a not very widely read one, extends that experience, but instead I am writing about my life experience as opposed to researching and commenting on history or english.  It is an interesting form of therapy, and I would guess for many other people out there that is part of the motivation for writing and publishing a blog.  I am here, this is my life experience, and even if only a few people read this the act of writing it feels good.

Even if we all really want to be Julie Powell.....

Children are work

Children are a lot of work.

Before I had Owen, and had two boys, and knew I was going to have a third, many people would say "you are going to be busy".

And now that Owen is here, and the boys are off school or not in daycare, I can agree: I am busy.

I am busy with the kids from morning to night, and they require food, activities, social relationships, time to spend outside, and time to relax.  It all requires facilitating.

Children are a lot of work, and each individual child has their own unique needs.

A friend was over the other day, and was sharing her photos of her trip to Malaysia.  I showed what I had taken pictures of recently: the boys in a variety of natural environments.  Our lives are different, what we do is different, because I am looking after the needs of three young boys.

At times it is daunting; I had a minor freak out a few weeks ago when I realized I may have three boys playing soccer at the same time, and I saw my life as a series of evenings spent at the soccer field.

Ugh.

Double ugh.

I realized, though, that I do not need to worry about my life and how it will look five years down the road.  I need to enjoy the boys just for who they are today, and what we are going to do today, and who the boys are right now.

The project of raising a child is massive, beautiful, and intimate:  a balance between the details and big picture, and - I hope - a daily celebration of human relationships.

12 Monkeys and Marineland

There was a group rate to Marineland offered through our former preschool, so I took John out of school and we went down to Niagara Falls for the day. It was a virtual festival of skipping school, as there were many families with children from John's school in attendance.

We had fun; it was hot but not too hot and sunny, with a fair bit of rain at the end of the day that sent us home soggy.

On the way down I listened to radio interview with Alice Walker, about her serious activism and a trip she is making to the Gaza Strip. I missed the earlier part of the interview but was struck by a statement she made near the end: that climate change is a huge problem; the ice caps are melting, and weather changes abundant, but that humans are extremely intelligent and if they work together to address some of these problems. It all seemed so relevant, insightful, serious, and optimistic.

And then I arrived at Marineland and watched a show with seals, dolphins, a walrus, and a funny guy in a silly suit. It all felt so 12 Monkeys, the movie with Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt, about a deadly virus that has been released so all humanity has to live underground. Bruce Willis goes back in time to try and stop the release of the virus.

There is a scene in the airport where Bruce Willis is a little kid, and he watches his future adult self who has travelled back in time. We know what is going to happen in the future, but the kid does not; he is at a busy airport, going on a trip, participating in daily life. The audience knows that the virus has been released and the future will be bleak.

I was struck by that while sitting at this show; is that where we are, at the airport, the virus has been released and it is all downhill from here? Is humanity doomed? Can we adjust to an unknown future with intelligence, resourcefulness, and compassion?