(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

When I told Steve that I loved the picture that Delilah drew of he and I, he wanted to know which one was me...

Hate is a strong word...

I don't know about your kids, but my kids are constantly using the word "hate".  "I hate him", "I hate her", "I hate pizza" (I know, right?), "I hate cheese", etc, etc, etc.  I am constantly correcting them by saying, "Hate is a strong word!" and it is...there are few things, people, etc that I could use that word to describe....I hate hypocrisy, racism, prejudice,,,it fits for those ideas but I think that most people feel the same.  

Today, I took Delilah to the commissary with me.  I knew it wouldn't be a quick trip, but I was in a good mood, she seemed to be in a good mood, and things were looking up, so I took her along.  When she hopped into the car after preschool pickup and I told her we were going, she immediately asked the dreaded question,  "Can we get the car shopping cart?  Please.  Please!!!!"  And like I said, I was in a good mood, so I gave in.  Sure, I thought, how bad can it be....

It was worse, worse than driving a Suburban through the narrow streets of Italy for these past two years, practically worse than childbirth.  Not quite as bad as going to the dentist, which I need to do, BUT CLOSE!! Almost as bad as the dentist.  

I tried to talk her into the new carts our commissary has--you know the kind that has two baskets stacked on top of each other and the car part, complete with steering wheel and horn, is actually in the seat-part of the cart.  Those are much easier to drive.  But no, not Ms. Delilah, NO.  She insisted on the double wide version of the car/shopping cart.  Driving that thing through the aisles is impossible.  And clearly invented by a man.  The constant need to back up and pull forward, back up and pull forward just to make it down the straight grocery aisle after turning is too much!!  TOO MUCH!

Our 20 minutes-tops shopping trip in a good mood quickly turned into an hour of me screaming and cursing that damn cart, while Delilah swung from the hood of it like a tiny Chinese gymnast.  So if you happened to see me at the commissary today, I was not possessed.  It's the cart's fault. I hate it. 

There's a reason these photos are blurry...and it has nothing to do with the camera.

Our Italian Toll Booth Pees Money

It just so happens that our daily life here in Italy usually involves several trips each day through the toll booth. At least two trips are made each day, sometimes more, depending on the measure of hectic-ness in our day. Four trips each way are not uncommon in a day... I often find myself collecting coins in increments of 80 cents Euro since this is the cost of a trip back and forth from my house to the toll booth nearest to post.

No, I do not have a Telepass...and Yes, having one would make life so much easier.  No excuses....

Anyhow, my children are all use to the trip through the toll booth. And all of them know the cost of the trip. It's the job of the passenger to hold the toll booth ticket until we exit and to riffle through the change in search of the 80 cents Euro. 

Jackson has become increasingly interested in this whole process since at school,  he is learning about making change.  Keep in mind, the money we use over here looks vastly different than the money he is learning about at school but fortunately, his teacher has introduced the concept of American money versus Euro, so he's at least familiar with them both. 

Last week, we were on our way home from picking up the oldest brat from cross country practice on post. We were exiting the Autostrada and had stopped at the toll plaza in our town to pay our 80 cents toll. I inserted my ticket and had dropped my usual 80 cents into the cup and was pleasantly surprised when instead of simply rasing the arm to let me, I was rewarded with a €2 coin dropping into the change return. I excitedly told the kids that we had actually made money on this trip and explained to them what had happened. Jackson immediately asked if it was American money and I told him that no, it was European money. Delilah, who had been uncharacteristically quiet for this ride piped up with, "No, he's not! Jackson's not peeing money!!" 

Get it?

European money...

Ur a Peein' money!

I cracked up!

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A Picture Book by Trey

It consistently drives me crazy that my children fight and don't want to spend every waking moment cuddled in the embrace of one or all of their siblings, but since I'm an only child, I'm told by my friends with siblings that I'm totally wacked to think that behavior would ever be normal,  I can dream, right?  And then every now and again they actually act like they don't want to kill each other. Here's proof:

Trey wrote this book about his adventures playing outside and catching lizards with his sister one day after school a couple of weeks ago.  He's been begging me to share it on the blog, so here it goes:

The captions are the words that he wrote for his picture book.

Delilah and Trey's Lizard Hunt

With Sparkle the Lizard 

We are going on a lizard hunt

We look for lizards

Then we find one

We name it Sparkle (Mom's Note: Delilah names everything Sparkle)

We have to let Sparkle go

Sparkle has to go home

Bye bye Sparkle

Credits

*Mom for the pictures

*Delilah for being a great lizard hunter

*Sparkle for being calm while we took pictures

*Me, Trey for everything else

He came up with the story on his own and then printed it himself. 

And then he read it to her...

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Traveling with kids--brat style

Life in the fish bowl that is Vicenza can be interesting, especially is you are not used to being in a such a small, tight knit community. I, for one, really enjoy it. I've always been a people person and a small community like Vicenza really allows me to make friends and get to know people here. Blogging in a small community like this one has developed a funny little circumstance: Delilah has become quite the little celebrity around these parts! It's really quite funny--literally every day while I'm on post or out and about, someone says hi, tells me they read the blog, and almost always make comment about how funny or cute Delilah is. And so by request, I've got two funny Delilah stories for you...one today and another one soon!

 (I've got to satisfy her fans, right) 

Story number one happened back in August when the Brats were traveling through Slovenia, Croatia, and Bosnia. It was literally hot as FIRE that week and we were swaying through the sights in a part of the world I never thought I'd ever see, let alone get to vacation in...

Eastern Europe and the old Soviet block countries definitely appeal to me. They are always so clean, the people always speak English and are happy to share their country with us, and tourists are only just now starting to discover this magnificent part of the world. 

On the day in question, we had literally driven from the Northern tip of Croatia all the way to half way across the country. It was a scenic drive through the beautiful country side, but as we got close and close to the Eastern side of Croatia, we saw more and more evidence of the war.  We spent the day at the Plitvice Lakes National Park (which I'll tell you about soon) and although the temperature was over 100 degrees, we had a great day! When we were planning our trip to Croatia and the waterfalls at Plitvice, I realized that we would be only a couple of miles from Bosnia Hertzegovia.  I knew lots of people who went to Bosnia as a soldier during the war, but knew no one who had been there as a tourist.  I told Steve it was a must do--to be able to say that we had been to Bosnia, I country I totally remembered as being a war-torn nation during MY not-so-distant lifetime, was a must.

The trip from the waterfalls at Plitvice to Bosnia was breathtaking, to say the least.  As we got closer and closer to the border, the area around us became more and more rural.  At about 3/4 of mile before the actual border, the road turned into dirt and gravel.  I am not kidding.  Within sight of the checkpoint,  the road was paved again, but it was obvious that the paved section was new construction.  Keep in mind that most check points at border crossings that we've been through are non existent.  We simply drive from one country to the next, with less pomp and circumstance than we have when we drive from one state to the next in the US. Since Croatia became part of the EU back in June, Bosnia was our first "non EU country" to visit.

The checkpoint was super crowded.  There were lots and lots of cars and lots and lots of people who were out of their cars walking around.  I was very nervous.  Another odd thing that we noticed was that there were tons of DOGS laying in the street or walking around the check point.  It was a weird couple of hours--yes, it took us close to 2 hours to get completely through the checkpoint and into Bosnia.  The thing that I never really realized was a checkpoint between two countries is actually 2 checkpoints--one to get you OUT of the country you are leaving and then another to get you INTO the country you are visiting.

Keep in mind, it was super tense throughout this entire experience. When we finally made it to the first set of guards at the check point, they were ALL Business. They carefully checked both Steve's and my passport first, looking closely at us and comparing our faces to the photos in our passports, and then checking everything out in the computer system. 

Next, the guard wanted to do the same with each of our kids. There was no idle chitchat, and no talking whatsoever except to ask us security questions. It was tense. We were obviously driving our giant Suburban and the guard told us we would have to roll our back windows down so that he could look carefully at the kids. We rolled down Delilah's window and she immediately looked at the guard and with a huge smile on her face, she said, "Hi, my name is Farter Pooter Pants". And then she started to sing this little song that I sing to them to the beat of the graduation march and its only words are Farter Pooter Pants. Repeated Over and Over.

The guard was NOT amused. I still don't know how Steve and I didn't get arrested...

Italian Bikini Car Wash

I'm about to tell you something that I'm sure I'll burn in parental hell for, but here it goes:

Sometimes I let the brats watch TV while we eat dinner.

I know, I know, it's terrible...but don't judge, people!

We don't have a television in our dinning room (that actually used to be the garage before our landlord converted it into a dinning room--"Italian Style"), it's actually where our computer is, and the kids watch shows on it from our iTunes.  The "watch TV while we're eating thing" first started when Steve was TDY somewhere and it took all I had to keep the brats at the table to eat.  Their dinner viewing pleasure began as the Scooby Doo's "Menace in Venice" (totally educational for those of us living in Italy) episode and has since moved on to Olivia, Season 2.  Even I know the words to her "Goodnight, Olivia" song.

 I just can't help it.  That pig is just so darn cute and spunky. Reminds me of a little puddle duck I know...

so anyhow...

Tonight at dinner, we were watching the episode where Olivia and Francine decide to have a fundraiser to raise money for new books for the school.  We were eating our ice cream (which we really do on Sundays but we had left over sundays tonight) and listening to Olivia decide which type of fund raiser to have.  Tory (the oldest brat) shouted out "Bikini Car Wash" and we all laughed at the thought of Olivia in a bikini.

On the show, Olivia decided that she and Francine should have a dog washing event, to which Tory replied, "Wait, they are going to wash dogs while in their bikinis?" (She gets confused sometimes)

And is classic humor that it seems only Trey (the 2nd brat) can truly accomplish in our family, Trey replied to her, "No Tory, the dogs are wearing the bikinis".

I love these brats.

(and I'm sure this is exactly what anyone who googled "Italian Bikini Carwash"was looking for!)

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When in Rome--Eating in Italy (SemiWordless Wednesday)...

As many of you may have read, we had the pleasure of having some family in town to visit for a couple of weeks.  We headed to Rome for a quick five days which were filled (literally filled to the point of bursting sometimes) with great sights and great food! Here's a few of my favorites...

Here's a short little video of the correct way to eat spaghetti (when you're 3, of coarse)

A sign from a restaurant bathroom in Rome (Thankfully, it wasn't a squatty potty, although we did run into a couple of those along the way...)

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Remember all the Best

Yesterday, while on the train coming home from a quick 4 days in Rome, I started to think back on all the places we've had the opportunity to visit and sights we've been able to see in our first 19 months living abroad.  My little trip down memory lane, so to speak, all started when I was sitting next to Delilah in the taxi on our way to the train station.  I had asked her what was her favorite place we'd visited on this trip and she immediately told me she liked the Eiffel Tower the best. The one is Paris, she reminded me.

Poor life of a military kid--they mix up all the famous sights they've gotten to see in their wee 3 year lifespan...

No, I told her...what's your favorite thing that you got to see on this vacation...the one in Rome, I reminded her.  The one we're on NOW.  

Oh, she said (with this hilarious look on her face)....THIS vacation.  (Heavy sigh from her, chuckle from me....) I like the building with the big ceiling (The Sistine Chapel). But I like Paris best the most...

(She talks about Paris ALL the time and has this Eiffel Tower keychain that she carries around with her, too)

All of this talking about favorites got me thinking in the taxi and on the way home on the train--how much of all these favorites would my kids remember?  My husband, Steve, grew up in Europe as well and actually remembers it all fondly, but he was older--much older than Delilah and Jackson (my youngest two who are just 3 and 6).  I think Jackson just might, because that boy has a memory like I've never seen before, but what about Delilah?

Will she remember swinging of the swing in the park on the banks of the Grand Canal in Venice?

Or sailing on a pirate ship there? (yep, a pirate ship in the Grand Canal in Venice) Please ignore my mother-in-laws' finger...

Will she remember sledding over Memorial Day weekend on the Zugspitze at the top of Germany?

Or when she pitched a total fit about getting to drive the electric boat on the lake in Zell am See, Austria, so daddy just gave up and let you?

Or on that same trip to Austria, when we went on the Sound of Music tour and I took my all time favorite picture of Delilah and Jackson in the church where Maria and Captain Von Trapp really got married?

(I LOVE this picture)

Will she remember playing in sand at the edge of the Mediterranean while we were in Cinque Terre and then begging daddy and I to let her get in the water?

 So we did..

Or will she remember when we went to Sicily and had Aldo Trapani show us around some sites that were built over 400 years BC? And will she remember how tall he was and how much she loved playing with him...

Or when Pope Francis was picked and the all the churches were ringing their bells in our town and everyone was SO VERY excited--even though we're not even Catholic...I KNOW I will!

Will she even remember how excited she was when we found one of the very LAST Rapunzel dolls in Disneyland Paris?

Or when she got to see the Eiffel Tower for the very first time!  

And Daddy carried her all over Paris on his shoulders?

Will she remember when she got to see the Colosseum in Rome...

She probably won't remember the Pantheon, since she slept through it...

But for now, she remembers the Sistine Chapel. And likes it the best. From this vacation, at least.

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