Good morning!

Utter craziness here this morning. Lorenzo mentioned last night before going to bed that he had to be at work by seven, which meant that it was going to be up to me to get both kids ready and take them to school/daycare, instead of sharing the job like we usually do. It is maybe the time to explain that my husband is a policeman for the Polizia di Stato, here in Italy. His job is demanding and exhausting and has odd hours. Sometimes I think that if someone was ever to turn our lives into a play, some kind of post modern director would have Lorenzo's job represented by an actor dressed in a policeman's uniform on stage with us. Maybe seated on the couch, reading the paper, as Lorenzo dozes in front of the TV after working a 10 hour day, or maybe in bed with us, still in uniform, still reading the paper as Lorenzo passes out within moments of getting into bed. Or maybe just me alone with the guy in uniform, representing all the nights he's out following some drug dealer and therefore not at home asleep. His job is always with us. I have gotten used to going to friends' houses where we have been invited for dinner with just the kids and the excuse that Lorenzo, even though he went to work 12 hours earlier, has not come home yet but will be here as soon as he possibly can. Our town is small, there are only so many officers, so if something happens, an arrest, a drug bust, illegal immigrants, usually my husband is involved, and that includes doing all the paperwork afterwards. That's what irritates him the most about cop shows on TV, American or Italian, it never shows them doing all the paperwork that would be involved if an officer had actually fired his gun or God help them, hurt someone. I have gotten used to it, these strange hours, the plans falling through. It remains to be seen how Giulio and Livia, as they grow older, handle plans changing at the last minute, disappointment of not doing something with their dad that they had been promised earlier. We'll see.
Anyway, this morning he was out the door before seven, but we were both up by 6:30 because as anyone knows, getting two small children ready and out of the house involves more planning and tactics than a large scale military invention. Giulio was like a tiger with a toothache this morning. He slept horribly last night, waking four times between 8 and midnight. He would wake up and cry for 10 minutes, unable to explain what was wrong or what he wanted, though finally the fourth time he said it was because his ear hurt. Oh crap. Giulio has had as many earaches as George Clooney has had girlfriends, it's impossible to keep track of the exact number. He has no fever, and while it's tempting to claim that he is faking, his worst ear infection ever came without any fever at all, and next thing I knew he was in the hospital for four days being treated for possible mastoiditis. So I can't shrug this one off. I give him ibuprophen and tell Lorenzo he will have to call the pediatrician tomorrow morning for an appointment, and seeing that her office hours are tomorrow afternoon when I have to work, I tell Lorenzo that he will have to take Giulio as well. I also think Giulio is constipated, again. I jinxed it when I wrote here that he was finally regular, and now its two days that he says he has to go without any action, yet another factor contributing to his discomfort. We finally convinced Giulio to go to sleep on the couch (for some reason I am ok with that, it's in bed with us that I don't want. see previous post for reasons why.) In the meantime Livia has her upteenth runny nose and also pink eye to add to the mix, so she wakes frequently as well, though is always smiling within moments of being picked up despite the stuffy nose and red eye. Finally around 12.30 we are all asleep, Livia waking at 5 for an early breakfast. At 6:30 I am hustling to get Livia changed, dressed, and with Lorenzo's help, get that antibiotic cream in her eye, when I hear a mixture between a wail and a groan from the couch. Our Lord and Master has woken. Lorenzo coaxes him to the table for breakfast while I hurry and pick out his clothes and then take Livia into the kitchen with me. I am still in my pjs, have to do my face and everything and eat, as well as dress Giulio, feed Livia and rush out the door and I have only 40 minutes. Lorenzo leaves for work. I put Livia in her highchair with a bottle of water while I tackle getting Giulio dressed. He is not happy about getting dressed, and instead runs into his room and throws himself on his bed saying, "Mommy, I want to sleep!" I feel terrible, he is obviously tired, his ear hurts, but as he has no fever, and as I have no babysitter to call at 7 in the morning, I have no choice but to send him to school, doped up again with ibuprophen. He won't be able to see the doctor until the afternoon anyway, and I can't call in sick to work. There is a fifth grade class in a town 20 kilometers from here expecting a mother tongue English teacher this morning at 8:30. I just have to make it till tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow my parents are coming for 16 days so if Giulio doesn't feel well while they are here he can stay with them. Ditto for Livia, who as of today is allowed back at day care despite the pink eye, since 48 hours have passed since it started. Is there a time limit in America? I can't remember and at this point am just grateful to have someone watch her, so I really don't care.
Giulio, once completely dressed including shoes, goes and flops on the couch, complaining that he needs to poop, but refusing all suggestions that he might go and sit on the potty and try. Livia bangs on her high chair tray, so I feed her some baby yoghurt standing up as I make coffee, pour juice and eat a piece of bread with Nutella, all with careful attention to the clock. I feed Livia a few spoonfuls and then take a break and feed myself. This coming and going keeps her on her toes, so she rapidly eats the bites I offer without hesitating. I do get dressed, though I don't remember exactly how or when, and in the bathroom I forgo contacts for glasses as it saves time and my eyes just feel too tired this morning for contacts.
"Ok," I cry, rushing back into the living room after brushing my teeth. "Coats!" I grab coats off their hooks and take them to the couch, where Giulio is still there, though now he is better. Five minutes ago he came smiling into the kitchen like a different person to announce that he wanted to take his ambulance to school. The coat suggestion is met with resistance. Yesterday our neighbor and patron saint and saviour Terry (more on her later) gave Giulio a multi-colored Mickey Mouse poncho, the kind of thing you would wear in a spring downpour. He was so pleased with it, and she carefully explained that this was for when it rains. "Yes," he had said, nodding seriously, "when it rains."
"Mommy, want to wear Mickey Mouse."
"Giulio, remember what Terry said, that coat is for when it rains. Is it raining today?"
Giulio looks at the sun pouring in through the windows. "Yes." he says.
Normally I would just say yes and let him wear it, but while it is sunny it is cold this morning and a thin plastic coat isn't going to do it.
"Giuge, it's cold out, you need your coat and a hat."
He thinks for a minute and then says he wants to wear his Bob the Builder jacket. My mother bought this jacket at Value City two years ago because it came with a pair of snowpants that were worn the two times it has snowed here in Giulio's lifetime. The five dollar-made in China-bright red and blue jacket stayed in my closet until last fall when I brought it out in a moment of weakness to get him to wear a jacket. It is now his favourite item of clothing. Pair it with his Bob the Builder baseball cap and you have one happy kid. But today is not Bob the Builder weather. He needs his down coat and fleece hat, both of which are put on with a struggle. Livia cooes and bounces in her red snowsuit and Giulio roars nexts to her. At least she is still too little to resist what she wears. I force a crying Giulio out the door, lock it and start down the stairs. Giulio initially refuses to move, and I fix him with the hairy eyeball before heading down the stairs. Great, now I will have to load everything into the car and then come back and get him. I start to go down the stairs when behind me I hear, "Mommy, hug!" I should mention I am carrying two bags, Giulio's backpack, a 7 month old baby, house keys, and a fleece hat. I have no arms left for a hug.
"In a moment, Giulio." Shit is it really 7:40? I need to have both kids in their respective schools/daycare and be on the road by 8. I keep moving down the stairs and out to the car as behind me Giulio sobs. I have just snapped Livia into her car seat when he comes out the door and towards the car, still crying. I get him into his car seat and by the time we are out of the driveway he has stopped. He is quiet as I take Livia into daycare, still a little teary when he drops his ambulance on the floor, but smiling by the time I park in front of his school and let him out of the backseat. 'What are all those kids doing?" he asks, pointing to the clumps of middle school students who attend the school directly behind his. I kneel down and give him a big hug. "You are know you are my favorite boy in the whole world, don't you Giulio?" As an answer he puckers his lips out for a kiss. I kiss him, then stand up, taking him by the hand. It's 7:50, I've got time, it's gonna be ok. "Come on," I said "let's go see the kids."