Wherever you go, there you are.  (Confucius?)

How are the kids adjusting? folks ask.

One kid is happy and excited upon waking up, popping up to find us and see what we're doing, not ever wanting to catch up on sleep and nap because then she could miss something.  She does a little Italian, goes out when the outing sounds fun, gives kisses.  She is game for every adventure, likes most when a sibling goes along, and asks for time and attention in simple ways -- will you read to me?  will you peel this orange for me?  will you cut up watermelon for me?  will you do my workbook with me?  She plans her upcoming birthday in much the same way she's planned the last two: ice cream/gelato cake by Daniel; outing to water (Connor's pool; YMCA; Lake Bolsena); pizza.

One kid reads all day and gets really excited by outings planned for the lake.  He motivates the entire gang -- including parents -- to make the lake outing happen.  He is thinking that he might want to get some exercise since he lies around a lot reading.  He occasionally asks me to do some Latin with him so he doesn't fall too far behind in school.  He helps me with the new learning management system (computer system), encouraging me to figure it out and he'll help me rather than watching an eight hour online course.  He likes that he can sit in the front seat with us in the car so we can chat but he doesn't like that the back seat feels so removed from the front seat.  He likes to talk with his parents especially when it is time to go to sleep.  He is being more adventurous eating than we've ever seen, and we are thrilled by this -- this does not mean eating salad, but it does mean eating pancetta and dried sausage and sauteed peppers and sushi.

One kid reads and comes up with her own outings, begging us for freedom and independence, taking her sister with her and having a sister date of gelato or french fries and a little shopping.  And when she's lagged behind and lost our crowd on the way back to our apartment, she works through the struggle and fear and finds her way back home.  She sets an alarm to get used to the time difference, reads her books and shares the funniest parts aloud, cooked dinner tonight (spaghetti, toast with butter and jam, sauteed onions and peppers, green olives, slices of cheese, salad), negotiated parent's doing her daily chore since she made dinner, requested of her parents more excursions since we're in Italy and so, really, shouldn't we be out doing more things?  (Parents are trying to accommodate by getting work and life list things taken care of before weekend.)

One kid keeps to himself with his books, but gets up earlier than the others if it means he can have a quiet breakfast with a parent.  He likes his space, requests family meeting to talk about screen time, has begun working on his Italian summer workbook for school with little prompting.  He drinks huge glasses of milk, and he says little for hours, but then, if you catch him one-on-one, say, while you're making him some lunch and cleaning up other dishes, he'll sit and eat and talk and talk and talk.  He'll head out on a walk with you to see the statue of the buried giant ("The Awakening") and share a gelato, talking and climbing and happily hanging out.  He'll laugh hugely with his siblings once they're all playing chicken in the lake, carrying another kid on his shoulders.


Santa Maria del Paradiso begins in three weeks, and we'll all adjust again...

And we adults...

One stays up communicating with work and house back home until late hours, respects the siesta hour by reading and napping for a bit, is game for excursions especially when they are not entirely planned and leave room for some adventuring.

One gets up before everyone else to get in some yoga or walking, is sending assignments to students so she can learn a little about them before they arrive, is trying to balance doing work/giving kids time they need/getting down time for herself.


Wherever we go...