What I Learned Living in Italy without Internet

From May till September of this year, my small family lived on Lake Como in Northern Italy, where my husband worked at a water-sports center for the summer season.

The tiny apartment we were blessed to call home for those few months was charming in an old-fashioned way. It was a bright yellow centuries-old flat, on the corner of a narrow cobblestone street, so close to my neighbor’s window that not only could they see our underwear hanging out to dry; we could also hear their every whisper, laugh and (all too often) shouting marital disputes at 3am.

We, like any normal people, wanted to buy a super-fast wifi connection for our temporary home. But in order to do that, we would have to sign a whole year’s lease. Knowing we weren’t going to stay in the country that long, we opted to not have it. (When we finally purchased a plug-in Internet device, it was so slow that it was worse than having none.)

This made for daily trips to the wifi-friendly Bar Pace café across the street, where we sipped creamy cappuccino, ate fresh, fluffy croissants, and checked our emails for half an hour.

Weekends on the lake got a little more active, with parachuters dropping down from the Alpine slopes, kitesurfers plowing through the rippled waters, sailboats in regattas, and dozens of sunbathers enjoying summer.

But most of the time, life in Como was mostly uneventful; night-life was non-existent.

And after those slow-paced months, the realization hit me:

I didn’t miss not having Internet.

I didn’t miss not being “socially” connected.

I didn’t even miss texting!

I had a Twitter account, and a Facebook Page, and even a LinkedIn, yet never felt the urge to check my friends’ updates—never knew what was going on in half a thousand other people’s lives.

Here’s what I did do:

Ate chocolate gelato every day

Swam every day with my son

Read more books

Saw more sunsets

Did a lot of people-watching

Did a lot of listening

Went running every morning

Used my telephone only to book occasional dinners at restaurants, doctor appointments, and reach my husband

Painted more 

Drank lots of prosecco and vino rosso with girlfriends, without distractions

Read more stories to my son

Fed swans and ducks every day

Watched Futurama episodes as a family on our laptop, every night

Learned a little Italian (“Bambini! Attentione! Macchina!”)

Got off my butt to exercise and lost 16 lbs

 

For those few months, I also did more dishes, laundry and house chores than I’ve ever done in my short history of being married and being a mom. It was exhausting, since I also spent every moment with my son.

I spent every moment with my son.

And my husband, when he came home from work, did, too.

Today, I’m reminding myself of what life was like without an Internet connection there in Italy, because in a day or so, my world will change.

I’m buying a Smartphone.

Because of new changes, lifestyle moves, new work, travel and just plain Real Life, I’m getting back to being universally connected. I don’t want to be unrealistic about new business start-ups, career and family, and it’s essential that I strive for a balance (Main point: STRIVE.).

Yes, I’ll suddenly be ever-present in the online world, able to see all my updates and send out messages on the fly.

But I don’t ever want to forget the sweet life, the real Dolce Vita.

And that was, dear readers, being ever-present for my son, for my husband, and for myself—without distractions of modern living.

It was being able to hear myself think.

It was being able to hear both of my boys laugh, play, and even snore.

It was being able to silently pray, without static.

I’m making this note today so that maybe, even when Amazon delivers my brand new gadget, I can still find a balance-point–somewhere in-between real life, and the sweet life.

Maybe I can keep in mind what really matters.

If you have helpful tips on parenting while still being realistic about other obligations, work, etc, I’d love to hear from you

Birthday Notes and Remembering

Last Tuesday, I woke up 32 years old.

In those early morning hours, I wrote a little, reflecting on my past, present, and future. And I started counting the birthday gifts I have been given:

I am most thankful for MY CHILDREN. Seeing them every day, watching them grow, teaching them, and having all the time in the world to love them.

TIME is on my side. That is a huge gift. Time is at my disposal. Time to work; time to play; time to love; time to feel; time to create.

FREEDOM is mine. Another gift. No oppression; no riots, no civil or world wars where I live. Freedom to connect through the internet—something not possible years ago. Freedom to live life how I choose to create it.

…my son peeks over my shoulder as he wakes and sits up in bed with me. “Whoa,” he says, “That is a lot of words!”

WORDS. Another gift. Thank you, Lord, for the gift of words which you have given me. You have enabled me to speak, to write, to communicate with words. This gift is mine; let me use it for good.

HEALTH. I have never been hospitalized for an illness, nor have my children. No accidents, through all those years. And every day, I am given another 24 hours to enjoy living with a healthy, breathing body.

After these, there are others; the list could go on… TRAVEL…FRIENDS…A JOB…MONEY TO PAY THE GROWING BILLS…A HOUSE TO LIVE IN.

Lord, I thank you for all these birthday gifts, and ask you to guide me through another year. Keep me challenged, changing, growing, accepting of all that life has still to give.

Last year’s birthday celebrations, I pigged out on German food with my boys!

Year Highlights:

14 May—On my 31^st birthday (after an early celebration in Stuttgart, Germany, we drove to Italy and arrived in our new home on Lake Como, possibly one of the prettiest places on earth.

The winding, still snowy road through the Alpine border into Northern Italy–our car was packed gypsy-style!

In Italy, life was simple and good (Read about it here.) I got back into painting and even sold some of my work in this amazing, picture-perfect place. Every artist’s dream.

Summer on Lake Como when my mermaid friend came for a visit

Even though my hands were full with a toddler, and I got pregnant (yes, Alexandra was made in Italy!), the desire of my heart to get back to paid-writing in some form was granted through work-from-home jobs for Philippine Airlines Inflight magazine and the Department of Tourism’s new website.

Growing belly in September

At this time, we also launched Lifestyle Planet, a start-up website magazine now growing rapidly! I’m so excited for the future of this 3^rd baby of mine! (Go to the link now!)

My little man, always in awe

By the time we got back to Saxony, vibrant Autumn colors had arrived—my absolute favorite European season. And then, we even got some early snow!

Snow in Sachsen

…but I’m really not a deep-in-winter kind of girl…thankfully, we made it back to sunny Southeast Asia in time to have a tropical Christmas. Reunited with my one dozen brothers and sisters, Karsten got to meet his very young aunties and uncles, and experience again the fun chaos that is Manila.

7 months pregnant in December–Karsten turned 3 on December 22!

We kicked off 2013 outside the metro, where we now stay (again, temporarily), just a few minutes’ drive from the beach and bay. We came here to have the baby in a more tranquil place, and to ensure that our kids had clean, fresh air to breathe.

Boys at play

Alexandra was born on the 1st of March, 2013, by scheduled C-section, even heavier than her brother. Even though it was a surprise getting her, and not in any of our plans, I’m glad for our beautiful girl.

Picture taken at less than two months old

I don’t know now where the footprints in the sand will lead.

It seems that change is coming very soon again. Story of our life.

But as another year says hello, I am just thankful to have made it this far. I’m setting new goals, dreaming new dreams, but also trying to cherish the everyday simple. The 5pm walks through nature; the crazy screaming (newborns!) nights; the children; more time.

Last year was not without its trials, tears and challenges. The roads were many, both literal and in my mind. And as my family grows, so do the daily obstacles. I’m hoping to keep taking this one day at a time, while still setting long term goals and reaching them. And I’m grateful for everyone who has been a part of this journey.

Sunsets by the bay

I can’t believe it’s been more than three decades! Can’t wait to see what’s around the corner. Cheers to new beginnings! New life, new love, new adventures!

Beer, anyone??

Sunday Sessions with My Paintbrush

The walls of our house are way too white, so am sprucing them up a little.

No, he didn’t stay still long enough to do the portrait, but all parents hold their child’s image in their mind and know it by heart.

Heroic Vs. Happy: Notes on Not Breastfeeding

Lago di Garda, Italy, 2010

As I shuffle around the house fixing things in the kitchen, I can’t help but notice the large sign on the baby-formula can sitting on the counter:

“Breastfeeding is best for babies up to two years and beyond.”

And beyond?

Are they crazy? No way am I having a two year-old yanking on my sore boobs for 24 months, AND BEYOND!

I breastfed my firstborn for about 5 months before going back to the office, where it was too much trouble to pump milk every couple of hours while your officemates wait in line for the bathroom.

I remember, shortly after that, watching a local TV show, where some celebrity dad was going on and on about the benefits of breastfeeding. I was like, “Whatever, you don’t know anything about the pain your poor wife is going through”. I guess it’s not something anyone can understand until they have experienced themselves, having the baby attached to them every two hours, the uncomfortable breasts, the fever-like feelings if you are out and miss a feed, the bursting ducts inside, the general pain and discomfort.–Not to mention that you can’t wear normal clothes!

Breastfeeding is really an unselfish thing to do, and of course we know it’s best for our babies, with so many benefits for them. But recently, I’ve realized that there are many things we do unselfishly, just because we are told to, and society expects us to do them.

Breastfeeding is one of those things.

My newborn is only two months old, but since we started her on formula every few feeds (it seemed that my own milk was not filling her up), something else has happened:

I’ve become happier, and so has she.

Today, when I was home alone, she slept a total of seven hours straight, when previously, she’d only sleep for half-hour intervals before wanting to latch on me again. In those seven hours, I painted a giant canvas, ate a decent meal, played with my son, written and edited articles for work and this blog, and relaxed.

I’ve been feeling great.

On the other hand, there is always some sense of guilt—is it okay to do this, just because it makes me feel better? Because I am seeing so many benefits in my own life? Is it right to feel ok about being “normal” again, getting to sleep, being happier, calmer, stronger, less stressed?

If part of the point of breastfeeding is the bonding with baby, then let me say this: the time I do spend with my child now is more relaxing; I enjoy her more; I am bonding better. I am not in pain or discomfort.  I am able to go out without worrying that the errands will take more than two hours, or that I’ll come home sick, or that I’m failing my child by being away.

I know that as parents, we all want the best for our babies. But sometimes, that starts with finding what is best for you.

What makes you happiest as a parent is going to directly influence your child, and your home atmosphere.

If only society didn’t place guilt on mothers who also just want the best for their families. Like having a C-Section as opposed to natural birth; or taking the epidural instead of suffering and martyring through it.

Personal opinion: if you’ve tried and found out that breastfeeding isn’t going so well, it’s okay to relax, try the formula, and see how your life goes.

My eldest son, weaned off my breast at 5 months, is completely healthy and happy three years later. He is scary smart, and multi-talented. I am so proud of him.

It also helps to realize where there should be leeway for personal choice and our own happiness, so that we can move past those feelings of guilt and focus on loving our children, for all their precious childhood years—and beyond!

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Did you stop breastfeeding before six months? If so, what were your feelings when making that decision? Do you think there are other areas where we as parents allow guilt to hold us back from loving life?

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Disclaimer: In writing this, I’m not knocking those who desire to breastfeed their babies for longer, and who have made the personal choice to do so. I applaud them. And I support the government’s efforts to encourage breastfeeding in mothers countrywide. This post is simply for those mothers who could do without the guilt, with knowing that it’s okay to follow your maternal instincts, too. Your body knows best.

On Mayhem and Mommyness

I had a bit of a crisis yesterday.

It was the nanny’s day off, and as my husband is away a few weeks for work, I had the kids and the house to myself. Food was pre-cooked in the fridge, chores and laundry were done yesterday, I had everything I needed within reach, and it was a warm, quiet Sunday.

Pretty easy, right?

Sure, unless one of the kids decides to get a fever, supplemented with a bad cough, then vomit every time he coughs, and be constipated, too.

With one kid straining on the toilet, and a newborn in my arms, I tried to navigate through what seemed like a perfectly ordinary day in the life of a mom. Said kid on toilet starts screaming in pain, and as I go to the bathroom to soothe him, the other kid—still in my arms—picks up on his pained vibe and she starts screaming back.

It could have been a comedy of sorts. The one where they try to out-shout the other, each louder than the next; where the mother starts screaming at both kids in exasperation, and everyone yelling so hard that they suddenly pause, realize the sillyness and start hysterically laughing.

Nope—no laughing here.

The screaming kids continued for a good 30 minutes more while I tried to keep a level head. I rushed back to the bedroom for the baby bouncer and pacifier, (which I couldn’t locate even though I know there are five pacifiers in the house!) flicked on the TV and sat my girl in front of it while I went back to the bathroom to tend to my boy, who was still wailing (he needs to eat more vegetables).

All this time, I’m talking to myself in my head. Don’t lose it, no one around to help you if you start to cry, too.

After that half hour, “normal” started to settle in. My boy decided to not try straining anymore; he got off the toilet, washed up and laid down on his designated couch in the living room. Suddenly he was smiling again like nothing unusual happened. My girl started yawning, so I eased her to sleep.

Disney Junior took over for another half hour while I put together dinner, which consisted of carrot sticks and ketchup for my son, whose fever had also magically disappeared.

On Skype a bit later, I vented to my husband about the events he’d just missed. Before long, the nanny returned, and all was right with the world.

Yes, I knew being a mom would mean just getting through one day after the next, so I survive it with the comforting thought that all these things will pass. I try to enjoy the “now”, knowing one day, all too soon, my kids will be grown up and living life on their own.

Crazy times like those make us appreciate the pockets of peace. The silence I do hear this morning is soothing. The only sound that trumps it is my son’s patterned snoring. To my ears, it’s even more welcome background music.

I know I can get through, because millions of mothers in the world do, and I’ll be just fine. After all, on a daily basis, I’ve got more love from my kids than I do their whining.

And, a backup supply of Toblerone.

Acrylics on Canvas by Nyx Martinez

(Speaking of pockets of peace, I managed to do some painting with my son the morning before mayhem broke out, and produced this picture of calm before the storm.)

Mirror Mirror

We don’t have many mirrors in the house that are on my son’s level, so the other day, I lifted him up to check out his freshly-showered face.

After a couple of seconds, he suddenly gasped: “…It looks like…YOU!”

Two Week Wonder

Life has been on pause for the last two weeks, as I’ve slowly recovered from the surgery. I’ve had to depend on others to do things for me, accept that time must move slowly these days, and stay awake at nights for my tiny one.

It’s taken a new turn, this twist in adventures—and yet somehow, it doesn’t seem strange; just the natural flow of things.

It was my son who first broke the news to me. “I have a baby sister!” he declared, one sunny day in Lake Como, nine months ago.

“No you don’t,” I half-frowned at him.

But he did, already. I just didn’t know it.

Trusting his instincts, I asked him, shortly before the birth, “What color is your baby sister’s hair? Is it blonde, like yours?”

“No,” he stated matter-of-factly, without looking up from his puzzle. “It’s black. Schwarz. Like yours.”

And so it is.

Now, she’s here, the little lady bug, who sleeps so much I am secretly hoping she stays this quiet and lets me do my work. Her features already take on quite a mature look, though she is just weeks old.

And when she smiles in her sleep, it is the most beautiful thing on earth.

I told you, this is my journey.

Yes, I miss the days of past, of ziplining across gorges while travelling provincial terrains; of backpacking with just my partner, before there were babies; the days of going on a whim, and risking a lot without a second thought.

I know someday, I’ll return to Africa, to the tribal regions of the Philippines, to the vineyards of Tuscany, to intoxicating India. But by then, I’ll have my new travelers with me, little feet marking their own path.

And by then, the journeys—as a family—will be even better.

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Now, something for smiles: Tina Fey’s A Mother’s Prayer for Her Daughter

My Girl

Scanning blank pages on this new morning. White space to fill—not mine, but my daughter’s. This new life which has yet to be lived; days and milestones yet to be celebrated.

Moments yet to be realized and treasured.

A brand new start, for something that hasn’t existed yet. How do you capture innocence? How do you celebrate life so pure, so angelic, so vulnerable?

We begin a new journey together, my love. And as we do, I hold your hand, but hope to not hold you back.

Life is for learning, exploring, making mistakes, and trying again.

Life is for love, and loss, and living again.

You must write in the pages of your own book—I can guide you, but not write them for you. You will learn with time, grow with the moments; intuition will guide you, and love will always bring you back home.

You were born into a family of travelers, wanderers, explorers, adventures. We will give you the experiences which will be yours to keep, the boat to set sail and launch out to new horizons. But what you find there and where you decide to anchor will be up to you and your choices.

I can hold you and nurture you only for a little while. I can be your strength just a few years.

When you finally go out on your own, when you finally know what it means to follow your heart, I trust that you will hear it beating in all the right directions.

I trust you will find your way.

Just as you found your way to us.

Alexandra, born March 1, 2013