7 Quick Takes: Leaving Home

On a practical level, moving vast distances with children in tow has never in the history of humanity been easier. I am well aware of the fact that as I pack up my first-world toddlers to cross the pond to greener pastures vineyards, more than 2,000 years ago the Holy Family was preparing a road trip to Egypt. And I'm pretty sure that donkey was not the first-century version of business select.

But, but ... holy crap there's a lot to do. We sent Dave's parents and siblings out the door at 3:30 this a.m. and fell to the task of caring for two ear infected small ones. Naturally, daddy woke up with a stomach bug, so we're operating at approximately 25% capacity. Here is what remains, not that you are in any way interested:

1. Visas. Dave's is allegedly en route from the Italian consulate in Chicago. It better be, because they took his passport a month ago to begin the process, and we kinda can't fly without it. The boys and I are banking on God's good graces and a connection at the Vatican which will, in theory, allow us to pursue our family visa from Italian soil, rather than trying to finish the process from the U.S. (which we've been told is impossible in our time frame.)

2. More documents than you have ever seen in your life, copied in triplicate and 'apostilled,' a weird legal notorization which grants validity to U.S. legal documents outside the States. Oh, and translations of each in Italian. Think birth certificates, marriage licenses, passports, etc. Fun and expensive, the perfect late December combo.

3. Purge and pack the remainder of our belongings. I've laid out 8 suitcases in the basement and while it looks like a hell of a lot to carry through the airport, it doesn't look nearly spacious enough to encapsulate the 'downsized' wardrobes, books, toys, toiletries and home goods I've been culling for the past 6 weeks. Goodwill, it's time for me to return the favor: 2 metric tons of crap coming your way.

4. Learn Italian. So probably stop using the Rosetta Stone box as a place to rest open beer bottles on. Or at least pop the CD in while drinking the next beer. Plus, that air-traffic controller headset it came with is stone cold awesome.

5. Probably stop drinking 800 of my 2,400 daily calories. (Or at least cut back on the solid ones. Cutting out smoking has already jeopardized my legitimacy in Italian mommy circles. I'd better not risk things by lowering my tolerance, too.)

6. Set up my awesome!brand new!amazing! stroller that came today. Convince children it is a worthy trade off for having sold all their books, toys, car seats, and grandparents.

7. Say goodby to all the beautiful friends we've made here. I'm not going to lie, I got a leetle bit choked up after reading this piece written by a dear friend of ours. It's hard to believe that in less than two weeks, we're leaving for who knows how long, and we won't be seeing our children grow up together. This crazy journey we're embarking on is beautiful and exciting, but it isn't easy.

For more or less random, go get your takes on with Jen.