Long Nights

Tonight I can't sleep, so tonight you'll have to bear with me and my nocturnal soliloquies. Because when the mind can't rest multiple ideas cross it and don't leave you until you surrend.

Camomile and writing to battle insomnia

So, let me tell you that these days I've frequently thought what I could tell a priest. It's been so long since my last confession that my mind would go blind if I sat in front of him right now. The priest of my friend Lisa's local church in Northern London suggested parents to write a list of sins to make it easier for them, and for him. No need to waste time with ridiculous apologies. Reading is much better than telling. That old man is practical. 

A list. So how many papers should I use? It doesn't sound like the priest put any limit. The fact makes me smile a lot. Obviously, the world has gone by since I attended church as a teen and served as an Altar Girl. Is it ok if I blog about it? Maybe local church organizations should really consider social networks as a mean of public confessions. Who knows, maybe all those comments could work as a good deterrent. Public shame could work better than the usual quantity of assigned prayers for sure. I remember it's all we wanted to know about each other. 

Look, I'm lapsed now, but more Christian than some extremist I saw out there. Still, I get the looks if I send my daughter to mass with his dad only on Sundays. The moment the priest and all his assistants will make a difference with my baby, I'll take her out from catechism instantly. Be nice to me and I'll be nice to you too. That's all I know for now.

They already favour Religion too much in this country, if you ask me. They do 2 hours per week of it in public schools, which is okay to me, but then they only do 1 hour of Gym and 2 of English. And the silly Government supports the nosense, promoting useless projects in which they invest million of euros. Last year, for instance, they gave out boxes of fresh fruits two times per week, to incentivate its consumption. It ended up that the teaching was 'food mustn't be wasted' -but no worries, there's always some adult who eats not to throw in our family. 

Why didn't they educate parents instead? Italians eat better, we've a fierce tradition of millenarium healthy Mediterranean meals, kids only consume a little too much cakes nowadays, but whose kids doesn't like sweets worldwide? And mainly, why didn't they launch extra activities, especially for kids who can't afford them? Of course not. We must be equal to other more productive European countries. It doesn't matter if France offers 500 euros per month to housewives, bonuses for each extra child and free nursery. We must eat fresh fruits. Then ministers go home and cut off new schools. This coming September 4 institutes will be shut down in Trieste, with the dramatic consequence of migrations of students to other school and logical drop of quality in both teaching and organization. 

I remember my father's disapointment when I told him whom I voted for. For the two previous elections I had lied to him, but then all of a sudden I told the truth over dinner on a hot Spring night. He didn't say a word (not that he normally said many anyway) but he lost his usual voracious appetite that night. Another milestone in our estranged relationship. But I needed to scream out loud my beliefs. The way I'm writing them down now. 

{I just went and watched The Iron Lady, now I'm back. It's ouf of this world, the skill Meryl has. That woman knows no limits. I'll blog about her (again) soon.} 

I also found another stupid blog of mothers who insist behaving like their lives are still the same after a baby. Hell, it isn't, and if you don't try to adapt your world to your child's needs you shouldn't have had babies in the first place. That maid in The Help was so right. I mean, you can travel the world with your baby as a backpack insisting he likes it, but he bloody does NOT. Babies get bored, they want to be with other babies and unless they don't ask you to be taken to a specific place, please leave them alone.

You hear preaches from someone who took her baby to Morocco at 5 and who is preparing to tour Turkey in boiling August, but that's different. Alice is a supernatural baby. Extremely adaptable and considerably curious. And, mainly, she has parents who boards on travels with her specific needs in mind. Always. We don't go to spas just to babypark her for 8 hours a day because we want to go snorkelling or make love all afternoon. Well, I'd like to make love for hours, yes :) but that's not the point. You play with your child, you tell him stories, you pick flowers with him and you even are ready to have fun for 2 hours and queue for the rest 12 in Disneyland. Because having fun and mostly spending time with YOU is his right.

My parents never took me everywhere but the 2 times they did they made sure to remind me for the rest of the time I spent with them. 'We took you to Switzerland!' 'We took you to the Eur Amusement Park in Rome.' Go figure. The fact they left me with a working grandmother was never mentioned instead. I was ordered to stay in a bed filled with toys and books, with the specific advice not to go to the loo neither. I was safe, there was my uncle who popped up every other hour to check on me. I was 4 and those were my mornings. Are you shocked? I was for a minute when I found it out a few years ago, but then the feeling of finally placing the missing piece of my life jigsaw prevailed. It all made sense, even if it doesn't for you. Today such family could end in the news.

Neddless to say, I was a pre-reader, though I still don't know if I wet that bed. I was never interested to ask further. Bah!

Long nights allow me to feel ...
I'm falling ... I am falling
The lights go out
Let me feel
I'm falling
I am falling safely to the ground
Ah ... 

PS: Cou cou! You may thing I finally fell asleep? I wish I could, you guys, but in a few hours I'll have to wake up anyway so I better watch a movie instead. I'll save more stories for that next insomnic night. That's a promise!