I’ve been meaning to write this next blog post for the better part of the last four months, but somehow I just couldn’t get pen to paper. Pandemic, newborn, Christmas, return to work, then… move to Rome! Now, finally, on our loaner Roman Ikea couch, with Aleksander sweetly sleeping and local Italian radio playing in the background, I can write.
The next major event we were anticipating after my last post about Aleksander’s first month, was Christmas. One of the few obvious benefits of our posting to Rome being cancelled last summer was the fact that we’d be able to spend more time with our families in Canada and Aleksander could meet his grandmas, uncles and aunties. In that regard, Christmas was the holiday that we had circled on our calendar for months.
Alas, life in the covid era side-swiped another well-intentioned plan as we made the difficult last minute decision to stay home and not travel to Toronto to spend the holidays with our families. At the time, this was devastating in the way that this year has been filled with many lowkey devastating micro-moments. But we pivoted quickly, I ran down to Ottawa’s Polish grocer and organized my best attempt at the traditional 13 course Polish Christmas Eve feast. Needless to say, the two of us were stuffed beyond belief and the final spread was but a weak imitation of my mom’s many decades old, perfected holiday table. But we had a gorgeous natural Christmas tree, dressed up Aleksander for some photos in cute Santa outfits and exchanged gifts and wishes amongst ourselves. Made the most of it, as 2020 life was wont to do.
Christmas also marked the end of my relatively short two month parental leave – a time, that without hyperbole was amongst the best of my life. Being able to single-mindedly focus on family, support Dalia, and witness all of Aleksander’s first two months of moments, was absolutely brilliant and something I’ll always be grateful for.
A few days after we quietly rang in the New Year, I returned to work (from home). Anticipating in advance how ideal this set-up was, Dalia and I were both surprised at how disruptive my return to gainful employment was, even if I was mostly within earshot, working from the dining room table. We had developed a fine-tuned daily rhythm and weren’t entirely prepared for my newfound duelling dual responsibilities.
I have to also add, for me personally, that the mental space work occupied in my head pushed out many other pleasurable concerns and musings. I no longer freely tweeted the daily joys of being Aleksander’s dad, I felt rushed being with him during the day as work-related tasks loomed nearby, and I watched as Dalia bore more of the parenting burden, increasingly tired as she was. It was not easy and it was not awesome. And it’s probably also one of those parenting truths that you only learn from the school of life. We have to work in order to provide the plenitude of things required to raise a human – diapers, beds, clothes. But this same endeavour detracts, pretty much proportionally, to the time, energy and emotion that you can devote to your little one. If anyone ever figures out this fundamental crux, please drop me a line.
Otherwise, the new year took on its own set of novel routines, and to add to the mix, my offer of posting to Rome was reinstated. Aleksander began to discover his hands and toes, and then slowly the rest of the world outside his grasp. And Dalia and I began to dream of journeys and adventures, pizza and gelato, beaches and Tuscan villas, in a way that had become completely muted in the latter half of 2020.
We plodded through the first quarter of the year, in and out of changing colours, urgencies and levels of lockdown; out from under the occasional seasonal Ottawa snow dumps; and on top of the million tasks one needs to do when changing their country, city and apartment during a global pandemic. All while watching and helping Aleksander grow.
He started to smile, then laugh. Look around, then look at us. Reach out for things, hold our fingers. Make pseudo-conversation sounds and cry only when he had a reason. We continued to parent and learn to parent moment to moment. Googling things in the middle of the night. Asking occasionally for advice and more often than not, getting more unsolicited (well-intentioned) tips than we were able to absorb or implement. Looking at each other often, saying: ‘he’s ok, he looks ok, everything’s ok right?!’ Somehow things kept being ok and we kept figuring out what to do as needed. That also included how to be married alongside a baby who seemed to need more of our attention and time than there were hours in the day.
Our families snuck in as many visits as they could muster to acquaint themselves with the newest arrival to the brood. Grandmas treasured their moments and provided timely relief with their expert holds, walks and lullabies. Our siblings got unfettered glimpses into the joint joy and exhaustion of child-rearing. And the odd friend dropped by and mostly said: I can’t believe you have a kid now. Ya, us either.
As my posting date drew closer, a feeling of disbelief mixed with waves of excitement and anxiety dropped into our already complicated stew of daily emotions. There were so many administrative details to take care of that suddenly my to-do list was keeping me awake at night instead of Aleksander’s cries. But, alas, things kept progressing. Before we knew it, the entirety of our belongings were packed up, leaving only stacks of boxes on which to change diapers. We checked into a downtown hotel with a cinematic evening view of the Canadian Parliament and did our best to line up the timings of our covid tests to get us through France and into Italy.
The stress persisted as we debated and advocated to board our flights in the empty airports of both Ottawa and Montreal. We finally collapsed into our seats and flew over the Atlantic in what somehow felt (again) like the first flights of our lives. Once landed in Europe, no one thought to ask for our covid test results and, in a long-awaited jet lagged haze, we were dropped off at our new Roman apartment, home for the next two years.
Aleksander definitely handled the journey the best out of the trio. “He’s born to travel,” said one of the flight attendants. Oh lady, you don’t even know the half of it!
Andiamo a Roma!
Dad In The World 