Author: lavitaebrom

Travel and Day One

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We’re here! Leg one of the flight was idyllic. Il Bambino was a model child. We got smug. Newark to Milan was…. humbling. Our model child decided he had ENOUGH travel, and let his opinion be known. Our neighbors were very understanding, but sleep was a luxury for both Matt and I.

Although we were all jet lagged to varying degrees, we managed to put together a really nice day. Lunch in Laveno (on Lago Maggiore). The weather was perfect, so we were able to eat outdoors on the harbor. It is so green here, compared to the Midwest tundra.

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After lunch, we headed back to Varese for some wandering and an early dinner. Bambino is passed out cold as I write, and we’re hoping his schedule is back to normal tomorrow.

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What did I learn today?

1. Toddlers who have been taught to wash their hands at school think bidets are toddler sinks.

2. Pizzeria Della Motta really is as good as Matt has been saying it is (for the past decade). What took him so long to take me there??>

Packing for Il Bambino.

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Pre-Bambino, packing for trips was a breeze.  Lots of flowy dresses, a couple cardigans, jeans, absurdly high heels, a pair of practical flats (for when the 4-inch heel regret started to kick in), and a corkscrew.  Done.  Yet again, having my bubbly, adventurous little boy changes EVERYTHING.

So, he needs clothing.  For an array of possible temperatures and levels of precipitation.  Shoes.  Hats.  Toys.  Books.  A place to sleep.  Cups.  Bowls.  Forks and spoons.  Diapers.  Wipes.  A stroller.  Snacks for the plane…  I could go on and on. I am fully aware that my new(ish) mother neuroses are kicking in.  There’s a norovirus outbreak where we live. I have visions of Il Bambino spewing split pea soup and his head rotating while over the Atlantic Ocean.  I debate buying diapers and the accoutrements in Italy.  But, he has had allergic reactions to certain brands, and do I really want to brave the Farmacia after a long flight?  Do I need to get a travel health insurance plan for him?  What if he is stolen by gypsies?  Or eaten by a dingo?  Or run over by a Vespa?  I. am. losing. my. mind.

So, I am stepping back.  And gazing at this for a minute.

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Aside from rabid dingo attacks, life cannot be that traumatic when you are there.  I am missing the forest for the trees.  He’ll be fine.  I won’t even miss those absurdly high heels.  We’re going to live la vita Ebrom, dammit.  And, worst case scenario, we will sit in our hotel with a screaming, diaper-rash covered baby who is spewing split pea soup, and pull out the corkscrew.  Sometimes, a glass of Barbaresco, and your best friend is all you need.