We didn’t have the best of days. All three of us, I mean. I haven’t started talking about myself in the third person or anything just yet. Something was just off today and I think we all had reasons to be cranky.
Valentino’s teeth are coming through. Cataleya barely slept last night, and I have salmonella. Or something like that. Whatever the ceviche version of uncontrollable and explosive trips to the bathroom, fever, chills, and aches is.
After five days of resistance and lack of time, I finally went to the doctor today. Based on my experience of Portuguese state heathcare all those years ago when I spent a night on a gurney in the hospital corridor, changed my own IV drip, and shat and vomited spontaneously while trying to call for help, I opted to pay and go private.
Granted, 17 years later, I expect that public health here has come on. But I’d sooner drive to a place close to me, pay the hundred euro consult and be done with it.
If you do find yourself in the Ericeira or Mafra area in Portugal and need medical attention, drop me a line, I’ve been twice in three weeks and it’s not bad at all.
Working in Barcelona
I never really know how many people read my blogs, look at my Facebook or have an interest in what my kids and I are doing. If you do, you may have noticed that I had to travel to Barcelona for work, alone.
It’s ok, though, I didn’t just leave the kids behind. Their father flew over to see them and cover for me for two days while I dressed like an adult, spoke like an adult, was privy to some fascinating conversations, and got food poisoning.
That sort of put a spanner in the works of the delayed birthday celebrations my husband and I were going to have with the kids. My lackluster appearance and desire to sleep only served to irritate him further as he thought I was over-tired from partying (as if work conferences are one long fiesta). And irritation breeds irritation. It was not a fun weekend.
The last two days have been dismal and gray reflective of my mood. The local people keep asking what happened to summer and I have to say, each time my father calls it seems to look brighter in England. The climate in Ericeira is not as I expected, although I’ll take it over sweltering in 40-degree heat packed on a waveless beach.
No Surf for a Week
Speaking of waves, I haven’t surfed for over a week. Clearly, that’s the last thing I can do in my condition, it’s hard enough getting out of bed and getting the kids ready for daycare, attempting to have an opinion in meetings and scrub slime off of the walls and out of Valentino’s hair.
If you haven’t heard of the latest craze to grip childhood, it’s called slime. I guess it used to be yoyos, skipping ropes, maybe even stress balls and fidget spinners. Slime is nothing like those things. It’s a whole new level of repulsiveness.
As the name suggests, you actually have to pay to buy your kids a revoluting lump of goo that gets everywhere, picks up the germs, and eventually evaporates or thrown in the bin while the kids aren’t looking.
I also haven’t been able to update my blog. I think all the energy I was plowing into my midlife crisis is starting to wane. I’m remembering that if you want to do nice things you have to have nice money to accompany it. And there are a lot of nice things I want to do, believe me.
Top Takeaways from the Week Past
- I will never lose my fear of upsetting people and probably always put their needs above my own
- Barcelona doesn’t lose its charm but not all that much has changed either
- I will never drink Pisco Sours or eat ceviche unless I’m 100% confident of the source again
- Dancing in a nightclub at my age is fun–until I look in the mirror
- I am capable of driving in the center of Lisbon
- I’m still in love with Portugal and my eyes mist over at the kindness of its people
- I need to live in a place I can surf
- Being delayed while flying alone is a walk in the park compared to traveling with kids
- The weather never does what I want it to EVER
- Extreme turbulence on a plane still causes my life to flash before me
- “Home” is not a place for me; it’s a feeling, and I have many of them–in the ocean, with my kids, at a cryptocurrency conference, in an airport, reminiscing with old friends, and on the open road. Trying to force myself into any other kind of a life is just foolish. And there’s no fool like an old fool
- Bali is coming up far too soon and I have to admit, I’m a tiny bit terrified
But again, day number (I can’t remember) into our working vacation around the world, and both kids are asleep. I’m pretty sure I’ve finished work, and all that remains is sweeping up the floor and tossing the dinner (and paper plates) the kids didn’t eat.
You can’t expect every day to go your way, tomorrow will be better or maybe it will be worse; that’s life. At least I’m finally remembering how it feels to live.
Work Write Balance 
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