Restless to Rome

I was a restless stay-at-home Mom. I enjoyed my daily routine of nursing, changing diapers and stroller rides around town. But the repetitiveness of the everyday began to overwhelm the joy. I needed something more, something exciting. I had a growing, insistent urge to break-out of my new, kid-centered life and reconnect with the real world. I wanted to travel again.

Burned-out on the baby guides, I picked up my travel guide to France, trying to relive our honeymoon spent in Normandy. But this did not satisfy my thirst, as I’d hoped. It ignited my impatience – my want became a frantic need for old cobbled streets in a foreign country. I decided that a trip would fill the void. I needed a vacation from the monotony of my new-Mom routine.

My husband and I decided on eighteen days in Italy: for its food, Roman history and the Italian’s reputation of loving children. Now when my daughter napped, I jumped online to gather information. I found advice on flying with children, how to order in cafes, even the proper way to buy fruit in grocery stores. I even read books written by Americans living in Italy. I made my husband and I spend our evenings watching Italian movies and listening to Italian language CD’s while driving. We cooked Italian food for dinner and ate biscotti with our morning cappuccino. I became obsessed with all things Italian. And I loved it.

One year later, our taxi driver Sergio was swiftly navigating us into the heart of Rome at sunset. My husband sat shotgun and endlessly chatted with our driver while I sat silently in the backseat next to my daughter who slept soundly. I choked on tears of delight as Rome unfolded around me. I was thrilled. My greatest adventure as a traveler and parent was about to begin.