Like the Von Trap Family, minus the talent

A note to readers: It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post. I could try to explain why, but that would be a post in and of itself. So let’s just pick up again as if months haven’t passed, shall we?

We’re in Europe.

I know. It sounds very romantic. Very sophisticated. Very gastronomically pleasing. Very incredibly totally exhausting.

Did I mention we’re with four children? I know only four months have passed since my last post. And at that time we only had two children. Nico and the new-ish baby, Frida. But somewhere between Barcelona and Tarragona, where we are now, we picked up two more. They’re eight and ten and overall very well behaved (and I’m not just saying that because their parents sometimes read this blog).

But still. There are seven of us in what is essentially a one-bedroom apartment in Tarragona’s old walled city. And one of us (I won’t mention whom) keeps trying to stick her fingers in all the wall sockets. That same one insists on getting new teeth every week or so and then waking up at all hours of the night to cry about them. She also eats dirty shoes.

Meanwhile the other small ones keep asking for more ice cream. Ice cream. Ice Cream. ICE CREAM!!!!

Meanwhile part 3, I broke my pinkie toe. And Marta tore something in her shoulder.

So, yes, we’re a little tired. But then. This sure as hell beats Lubbock in the summer.

For example. We just got back from visiting the ruins of an old Roman amphitheater, where the eight year old gave us her report on said amphitheater (from second century, once held 14,000 spectators, etc).

Also, for example, our first night here, as we settled in, we could hear a local drum core serenading the diners in the plaza nearby. Our house has vaulted ceilings and Juliet balconies that look down on cobblestone streets. There are Roman ruins everywhere and often Christian ruins on top of them and sometimes Moorish or Jewish ruins, too.

For example part 3, the littlest among us has learned to crawl and juts now is starting to pull herself up. We take her everywhere in our front carrier and everywhere she goes, she leans her head back and smiles ecstatically at strangers. Her cousins love her and can spend extraordinary amounts of time trying to get her to laugh.

For example last-one-I-swear, Nico is picking up all sorts of Spanish colloquial expressions and often misusing them, which is super amusing. The other day she was following her cousins down the beach and couldn’t keep up and she yelled, “Joder, tios!” which literally translates to “Fuck, uncles,” but in Spanish is a little less crass, but still sounds like something a grizzled old man might say and not a four-year-old. (though I am sure the Spaniards among you are going to assure me that four-year-olds also say this all the time).

So, long story short, I feel like half of the Von Trapp family singers most days, but with much less talent and (thankfully) fewer children. Mostly, though, I’m really enjoying myself. Here are some pictures to prove it: