I sure could use another day in the week at times like these. We have been in this metropolis named London for four days now and though we don’t even have our permanent home here set up, times have been keeping me on my toes. In truth, I can’t complain because I don’t know how to function if I don’t have something written in my calendar to do for a specific day. Sometimes I force myself to write something in, but most times and especially at times of moving across bodies of water, the sacrament of schedule-filling is an automatic daily rite of passage.
In continuing with my first blog (you can access it in the menu at the top of my site if you haven’t already done so), here are some of my self-appointed rules:
All of my entries will be named after title tracks of tunes that I like to flip through in my virtual rolodex of music. Today’s entry is clearly named after the Beatles, and how fitting it is to use them since rumour has it, these four fellas were quite popular around these parts.
Nicknames for my family members are still the same, so Lumberg is my husband simply because he all too often shuffles around the house with a cup of coffee melted into the fabric of his skin. Sometimes he talks gibberish like Lumberg (from Office Space), but most of the time I listen. During the day, Lumberg likes to search for precious resources left here after dinosaurs and other flora and fauna, but at night, he struggles in finding the laundry hamper. Sometimes he makes me roll my eyes, sometimes he makes me laugh, but, he’s a good guy because he allows me to adopt purses.
Little Miss Stubborn is my first uterine tenant. She is far too clever for her years and her drawing skills are groovy. I know every parent says the exact same thing about their kids, and so, why should I be any different. (But seriously, she draws pretty darn well for a six-year old). Her logic and smile wows us all day long, but I’m pretty sure she will be turning my faux-blonde hair grey when she hits her teens because well, she isn’t nicknamed Little Miss Stubborn for nothing.
The Albino Hulk is my four-year old son. He was a ninja in the womb and he still can’t sleep through the night without acting like he’s trying to be a cheer leader who’s trying to make large letters with his and our bodies (on those rare nights he does trudge into our bed), a gymnast doing a floor routine where he has to cover the entire floor to impress the judges, or a washing machine on the spin cycle. He is our family stand-up comedian who’s wit and comments have not gone unnoticed by others too.
Feel free to peruse the halls of my former chronicle of our life in Milan as I try to settle us into a routine here as fast as I can. For now, sleep beckons, and as we are in a temporary accommodation, I am snuggling up with the kiddos. Time for my nocturnal karate lesson courtesy of the Albino Hulk.