I had to do the math a couple of times. (I really think that some serious brain power was absorbed by that placenta and then thrown away. Sorry for reminding you of that grossness.) But, it’s true, we moved into our new place two months ago.
Well, I should clarify that we’re occupying the space of our England home. It was rumored that everything we own that didn’t fit in 6 suitcases was to arrive in port last week. No word yet.
I’ve discovered that I’ve trained myself to stress about EVERYthing. But the reality is that I don’t have anything to stress about (as I don’t have any pirate connections that might expedite the delivery of our stuff). It’s very hard to undo years of self-induced anxiety over deadlines and reports and meetings. For example, I try to apply my expectations of timely delivery of goods to the baby’s nap schedule. Stress always follows.
Walden and I have an opportunity to go to Italy for as long as we want. My first instinct? To believe that there’s no way we could go for longer than a week. Um. Why? Because. After years of weighing every opportunity to travel against available vacation time, I simply don’t have the “I’m there!” instinct.
Not to worry, I really couldn’t come up with any reason why not. So we’re going. Let’s hope that my first solo international* flight with the little man goes a bit more smoothly than my first time flying with an infant back home.
*Yeah, that international flight is shorter than the Milwaukee to Orlando leg of my extended journey from Omaha to Indiana. Just sayin’.