Outtakes

Several weeks ago, our Parish priest started his homily by saying, 'if you want to tell God a joke, tell him your plans.'

Which might explain why Peter and I run our lives the way we do. That is, without too much planned. With plenty of room for pivots, detours, and outtakes, always giving us a little more to laugh about when we have the chance to reflect. 

Our plan: after Christmas, we would go to Italy. A couple days in Rome. Several more in Tuscany. That was it. That was the plan.  

After we realized we better plan a little more, we filled in some gaps with a train reservation and a car rental. Okay, there, that was the plan. 

This was the reality. 

On December 20, our family started a bout of illnesses, that would circulate around and around and around until we had all been sufficiently humbled. 

On the morning of December 27, about five hours before we were supposed to leave our house, I was once again caught in the virus' travel path, waging another war against the toilet. At 4:00 AM with no hope of keeping even water down, I told Peter to take as many kids as he could, I would meet him in Rome on a later flight. 

Peter did just that, he took four kids, while Bobby and I nursed ourselves back to vitality. Bravely navigating another country with four girls under the age of 12, Marriott took pity on Peter and upgraded us to their Presidential Suite. The space, view, bubble bath, mini slippers and robes, and bowl of fruit created a welcome oasis. 

Bobby and I woke up feeling better and ready to fly. Upon arriving at the hotel, I rushed everyone out the door to make up for lost time. Things I should have planned for: more people than I had anticipated, crowds making the kids nervous, scooters being tough to ride on cobblestone sidewalks, the line for the Pantheon being two hours long, and a dinner reservation somewhere. Things that I improvised: 

Gelato. 

Church. Looks like a nice one. And half of us hadn't been to Mass, and they were saying Mass, perfect. Look a Caravaggio! 

Dinner at the first place we saw after Mass. Which just happened to be in the Piazza Novona, next to an Italian puppet show that was part of the Christmas market. And the twins loved it. 

The next day, I told Peter to take the big kids to see St. Peter's. So he did. He was flabbergasted by the line, so started milling around in the middle of the square until he met a Vatican security guard. Who offered to help him skip the line for a nominal payment. Peter paid, they got in. Italian bribery at its finest. 

While he did that, I ventured to the Forum and Coliseum with the twins. The cab dropped us off at the bottom of Caligula's palace and pointed to go up the stairs. Caroline sat down on the first stair and said she couldn't walk anymore. Jacqueline echoed the lament. So I hoisted one up, dragged the other one, and made Margaret keep up. At the top, the twins had a concern about the temperature and the need to find the sun. So I found it, on the other side of the plaza. Which is also where we saw the entrance to the forum. I told them this was a better version of a playground and they perked up, balancing on ancient walls, and learning how to take pictures using the big camera. It was pure joy until I asked them to keep walking so we could see the Coliseum. Nope. Done. Caroline sat down again. Jacqueline asked for 'uppy' which means, 'lift me uppy.' Which is when I saw the horse drawn carriage and threw them in it. To the Coliseum! Turned out to be their favorite part of the vacation. 

That evening, I took another grouping of kids to scoot around Trastevere and have dinner at a charming Roman restaurant called Vanda. Artichokes, fried zucchini, foccaccia, fennel and olive salad, and excellent pasta. Oh, and of course, gelato. 

Monday brought the Villa Borghese for me, Margaret and the twins, while Peter took the big kids to the Forum and Coliseum. After our unique adventures, we came together to make our way to the train. 

Navigating Rome Termini with five kids and four big suitcases is not for the faint of heart. Navigating our arrival in Firenze with five hungry kids, arguably was even more challenging. 

So, Gelato. 

Next, a cab to Europcar. A hypothetical quick check of ID, car selection, and off we would go to our secluded house in Tuscany. 

But ... 'do you have an international drivers license?' 

No. I don't have one of those. 

Well, you can't rent a car from us. 

Fine. Get that Uber driver back here ... how much to drive us to Rosenanno? Welp, let's go. 

Actually, we need to stop at the grocery store first. Got it, let's go to the one right outside of Florence, easier for parking, much more local, much more difficult for an American to shop.  

I drew the short straw - I shopped, while Peter stayed in the car with the kids and Uber driver. Fastest, hardest grocery shopping I've ever done. 

Midway to Rosenanno, our Airbnb texted me that luckily, his driver Stefano was available for next four days. So we hired him. Stefano our guardian angel, to the rescue.  

The first day we saw San Gimigniano, leveraging the purchases of Pinocchio ornaments and gelato to appeal to the twins, and went to a winery. It was a classic and perfect Tuscan day with almost zero outtakes except for Caroline's general comportment because she was on day 6 of constipation. 

The second day we went to Siena. To the Duomo for Mass, which was regal and reflective - a perfect start to the New Year. But Siena was cold and drizzly. And the twins were not too happy about it. Especially as we searched for a place for lunch, which was hard to find because everywhere was full. Note to self, plan for reservations on New Year's Day. We finally found a place with a less than desirable menu for Mary and Bobby, a Freud poster of a naked woman, and a table. We'll take it, the one right under the poster. Surrounded by Italians celebrating the day with friends, we had an unexpectedly delicious cheese and charcuterie board, wine, lots of focaccia, and pasta that the twins devoured. Mary and Bobby finally came around. After lunch, we saw the Piazza del Campo. The big kids rode their scooters up and down the bowl of the plaza, terrorizing the Italians who were none too excited about the American kids in town. It was good, until it wasn't. The twins were frozen again, and the only thing that could possibly make them happy ... 

Gelato. 

Followed by a ride home from Stefano. God bless Stefano. 

Peter went to bed early that night. He didn't look well. Caroline finally pooped. She looked better. 

The next morning, Peter didn't get out of bed when Stefano arrived. So we boarded the van with six not seven. And were off to a farm. We toured it - it was stunning - we saw where they made cheese and the kids held their noses - we were welcomed into their cozy restaurant among a crowd of second dates and family get togethers - and the kids miraculously behaved. Next, we went to Pienza. It was adorable, and I loved it. Except for when Caroline yelled, I WANT GELATO over and over again in the middle of the town square. Mortifying.

Back home, Peter was still sick. Feverish, then cold, coughing, then shivering, and unable to get out of bed. I packed us up, telling the kids, they needed to be better helpers. 

In the morning, Peter rose from the dead, Stefano got us to the airport, and we made it home. Chock full of pictures and great memories.  

So, that was the trip. Not very planned, struck by sheer luck several times, far from easy, and maybe not as relaxing as some would want. But it was everything to me. 

Having a big family as we do can be limiting. And there were times back in the states, that I doubted my ability to show my kids more of the world due to the expense and the logistics. But this less than organized trip to Italy, showed my family what's possible and what's out there and everyone is hooked. 

And yes, the next time, we might plan a little more, but there is something more enabling about life unplanned. It makes you think and problem solve, and it certainly creates laughs. The outtakes and pictures that my Grandma Barry was notorious for saving. Peter sitting on the steps of Santa Maria Novella with Caroline in his arms and four suitcases around him as I went to search for more gelato. The kids faces underneath the Freud poster. Peter carrying scooters in a garbage bag around Siena. The Uber driver without headlights who drove us up the winding hills of Tuscany to Rosenanno. The gory torture museum in San Gimigniana, the Vatican security guard, the horse ride around the Coliseum, all possible because being impromptu enabled it. 

Most of all, we learned that once again, we can do it. We can do hard, in sickness and in health, always finding ways to make life more memorable. 

Lo.