I know, I'll take all the kids to madrid by myself!!

Written last night around 11:30 pm:

Erik is still gone (in Serbia now) and I couldn’t decide whether it would be harder to stay home for the weekend with the kids and go stir crazy, or take them all on an adventure to a new city by myself. I opted for the latter. Had I taken a sprig of Rosemary from a local gypsy and had my fortune told, I may have chosen differently.

Admittedly, we started the weekend with kids already maxed out and short-tempered with each other.  By 8:00 in the morning I was thinking “what have I done??”

Got kids packed and to the train station on time, Lucy without breakfast and had to leave dishes in the sink. Left the house hoping the ants wouldn't be sleeping in our beds and wearing our clothes when we got back.

Train ride was great actually – they showed the movie “Mirror Mirror” in English! Countryside passing by was beautiful, misty green, a huge castle at one point, a junk yard at another. Grafitti and broken down ghost towns some times, quaint tiled-roofed villages sometimes.

After 2.5 hours we arrived at Atocha Train Station in Madrid. Stone would. not. stay with us. Walking backwards, climbing everything, stopping to examine every detail. Not trying to be difficult – just almost impossible to have him just hold my hand and get from point A to point B. I wouldn’t have been in a rush except that my and Lucy’s backs were killing us from the heavy back packs (note to self for next time: just bring the rolling suitcase!).

We walked 2 kilometers – “just to school and back!” I told the children, but Stone kept sitting down and lying down on the way saying he was so tired. Sophie was a little touchy with people bumping into her, etc., but that sweet 6-year-old didn’t complain about the walk once. We ended up having to carry Stone most of the way.

So tired... 2:00 and had eaten next to no food... got to an intersection with a gorgeous building and I went to take a picture and Lucy burst into tears. I didn’t know she was struggling. “I just need a break from everyone!! And I hate big cities!!” Maybe she’s like her mommy and gets overwhelmed with lots of people around. Madrid feels Manhattan-big and crowded.

Having navigated with my iPhone, we finally arrived on the street – carrying Stone and the huge heavy back packs, so tired and Sophie crying with hunger. And… the hotel was nowhere to be found. I re-tried the address and found that the map had taken us to the wrong part of town. I told the kids, “Ok, let’s sit down and figure out what to do.” We sat on the marble steps of a store and I turned my head as I tried to not see this incident as a symbol of how I’m leading my children through life not even knowing where I’m going or what I’m doing. Why are we here?? What are we doing in Madrid without Erik, or even in Spain, and where are we going to live when we get home? Where is home, even?? …” I could see where those thoughts were taking me so I kicked them to the curb, wiped my tears, and said “Ok, we’re going to be just fine. Let’s take a rest, eat lunch, and we’ll make a new start.”

We found a fancy little bright-red British restaurant, whose English menu was comforting. Not fans of skin on fish or bright red insides of Sophie’s and Stone’s hamburgers, and Lucy found a bone inside her sandwich. “That disgusts me,” she commented evenly, setting down her sandwich and not returning to it.

We did feel better after a rest, and made our way slowly and heavily but bravely to the hotel. When Stone wasn’t in my arms he was lagging or outright lying down on benches.

Arrived at the hotel, took a siesta where we laid on our beds and I guided the kids through contracting and relaxing all their muscles groups and seeing themselves as beautiful beings of light and love, J and then we set out to walk to El Retiro park.

Great playground! Magic shows, bubbles, puppet shows, boat rides… HUGE park and so much to see and do. Our legs were tired by late afternoon so we wanted to hop on a tour bus and see the sites. Stone protested everything and still needed to be carried.

Looong walk, wild goose chase trying to find the bus, my phone near empty battery so trying not to use map or internet too much, Stone complaining his tummy hurt, whining the whole way, finally found a kiosk to sell me bus tickets. As the man pointed down the street, explaining where we could take the bus, Stone threw up. All down my legs and feet (bare legs, luckily, and sandals), and HUGE splattering puddle on the concrete. Then another round. Then another. Hallelujah for baby wipes in my purse, and for the kiosk man’s kindness. It happened right in front of his kiosk, ( thankfully, narrowly missing all of his magazines and newspapers), but he reassured me and calmly swept it all down a nearby drain.

Equipped with plastic bags for more rounds of throwing up, Stone slept on my shoulder, threw up again, slept more, as we walked all over the city trying to find the blasted bus. Three different people gave us three different directions, none of which were correct, I was carrying limp rag-doll Stone for miles. Stone woke up and said “I have to go #2!!” and at this Sophie burst into tears. “MOM, HE HAS TO GO #2!!! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO???? What if he goes in his pants? Will you just throw his underwear away? Will he have to just keep wearing them? What??” And seeing her empathy and her panic, we all just suddenly started to laugh - not at her, but just at how comically awful it was going and how sweet she was. We fell into a huge hug and stayed there laughing and crying for a minute. Then Sophie suddenly perked up and said, “Hey, it’s happening!! It’s our Stone is throwing-up in Madrid moment! How fascinating!!” (Luckily Stone's bathroom need passed.) More walking... more walking.... my shoulders and back burning...

I had promised the girls churros con chocolate (it's a famous, classic Spanish treat - fresh churros dipped in "hot chocolate," which is basically melted chocolate bars). Stone was sound asleep and it was too late to catch a tour bus but too early to go to the hotel, so we plodded on to the Chocolateria that was in my guide book and two separate people had recommended. Suddenly Stone woke up happy, color returned to his face, and he even walked part of the way.

Downtown Madrid – HUGE city, MASSIVE crowds, street performers everywhere, gorgeous, larger-than-life architecture, honking traffic, Lindsay used a paper map (phone was dead) and got us to the crowded, fast-moving restaurant where we were served a mountain of churros and 5 steaming mugs of chocolate. Stone couldn’t’ resist and I couldn’t let him sit there with us eating in front of him… plus I thought maybe it had been a fluke, so we all ate to our heart’s content and were genuinely in high spirits and having fun.

Long but cheerful walk back to the hotel in the huge night crowds, we saw yet another wedding, which sparked conversations about my wedding, and about the girls dreams for their wedding dresses. 

Jammies on, stories from Mommy, snuggles…. Then as I started typing this at around 10:00 Stone came in and laid down on my lap, looking green again. It’s now 11:19 and he has thrown up twice more, Sophie has woken up twice feeling sick, and Lindsay is currently lying on the floor by my chair clutching her belly. I had thought it was food poisoning or just system-shock from all the travel for Stone. But perhaps not. And we’ve been sharing water bottles all day! Tomorrow I have a non-refundable tour of the Prado Art Museum booked, and then come hell or high water (or high vomit), we are going to find that tour bus and see the Royal Palace. I already bought the tickets.

Should I have stayed home, you think?

Written today, Sunday, October 7, having survived the night

Good news: Lindsay and the rest of us were fine. Sad news: Sweet Stoney was in absolute agony until 4:00 am. Definitely the sickest he’s ever been. He would drift off, then wake up 20 minutes later writhing and shrieking. He wandered around the dark hotel room (all of us in the same room, of course), sometimes responsive to my soothing and sometimes not. At one point at around 2:00 he said, “Mommy please say a prayer that my tummy will stop hurting." Oh man, do I get nervous for tests of children’s faith like that! I don’t understand how it works – why God seems to intervene sometimes and not others – so how can I explain it to my child? But I prayed that God would help Stone’s body fight whatever was making it sick very quickly, and that he would find relief from the pain quickly. I ended the prayer, and Stone was still suffering greatly. Then suddenly I remembered that in labor, I was greatly helped by warm showers. The water was hypnotizing and the distraction of being gently pelted all over my skin helped to somewhat drown out the pain sensation. I convinced him to give it a try, and it worked! I told him to lie on the floor of the shower, and with a folded towel for a pillow, he was instantly asleep. So we were in and out of the shower three or so times in the night, with great relief each time, and vomiting violently, ending at about 4 or 5 am. So we felt like the prayer was answered – a solution came immediately to my mind, and his body fought the sickness hard and got it over with quickly.

This morning we all slept until 9:00 (the girls were of course up quite a bit, with the ruckus going on in the room), threw on our clothes, and called a taxi to take us to the Prado Art Museum as planned. Stone was weak but professing to feel better, and what were we going to do? Stay in the hotel room all day? After another fiasco of wrong taxis called by the front desk, streets closed for a bike festival and walking forever, we reached the Prado nearly on time, had a snack in the cafeteria (minus Stone, who didn’t want anything), and began our tour.

Slava, an Art Historian from Ukraine, led a fascinating tour of some really memorable masterpieces. Her accent was hard for the kids to understand and we wished she’d spent more time on Velasquez and Goya as we’d requested (those are the artists we had studied), but she was darling with the children and a lovely human being. She told us how the current president of Ukraine has taken the country into “chaos” as she put it. She is so homesick but is grateful to have a job in Spain and her country’s future is uncertain… so she’ll stay as long as she can. Once again I felt so grateful/guilty to be American. She would have given anything for the opportunities that I was just born with by virtue of my US citizenship. May I not waste those opportunities! And it was a pleasure to tip her very generously (it is so nice when what feels like a little to us goes a long way for someone else).

After the tour we hopped on the yesterday-elusive tour bus to see the Royal Palace and other far-flung sites (while rested our legs), and then grabbed lunch at Starbucks (it's all about ease at this point) and headed to the train station for our trip home. Upon arrival Stone still wouldn't eat (having only consumed a crumb of bread and one leaf of my salad) - he whimpered for his bed and was out like a light upon contact with pillow.

"This feels like Star Wars!" The high-tech train station in Sevilla

Eating breakfast on the train

Brushing up on the Spanish Masters. Goya's Dark Paintings are Stone's favorites (they're creepy)

I sing this very goofy song to the kids called "Baby Head" (to the tune of the 80's cartoon "Gummi Bears") - who knew that someone had heard this song and based a sculpture on it in Madrid! The kids were delighted.

This is the photo that Lucy opted out of, crying behind me.

Red-lit British Restaurant with the bone sandwich

Biggest Spanish flag we'd ever seen was our landmark to find the hotel after we'd had our mis-adventure on the wrong path

Now this photo looks like foreshadowing. At the time I didn't know he was feeling sick

Europe has the coolest playground equipment! 

Sophie and Stone could have spent hours with the giant bubble man

And Stone thought the puppet show was hysterical

It was a bread baker making a pact with the devil

Post-throw-up

It doesn't feel right to skip straight to the photo of us at the Churro place. There were hundreds of heavy, heavy steps in between and my back was KILLING me!!! But here are my sweet, helpful girls, Lindsay carrying my bag for me

I was serious when I said "mountain of churros." I ordered  "churros para cinco personas" - I should have specified that we were cinco small personas

Again so much hard-earned ime elapsed between those photos it is a shame to jump straight to it, but that's the old-fashioned elevator in the hotel

The barracks

Of course I took no pictures of the night, but it was about 6 months long

Eating something quick at the museum cafe before the tour. No photos allowed in the museum, but we saw some amazing works of Art!!

Stone fell asleep on the bus tour

Nowhere to sit at the train station so we scouted out a cozy corner for ourselves on the floor.

In retrospect, favorite things about the weekend:

The three girls never complaining once about tired legs or having to carry heavy bags. They offered over and over again to  carry or piggyback Stone. 

Stone caressing my arms and gently kissing my cheeks as I helped him through the night and whispering “thanks, Mom.” He told me all day as I carried him around “thanks for carrying me so much. You’re so nice, Mom.” Oh, and this gem: "I would never go live with another family. Not even if they had a puppy."

Madrid has the highest budget for cleaning of any city in Europe. (Good thing, since Stone gave several sections of sidewalk a run for their money). We couldn’t believe how sparkling and sanitary the city was! In Sevilla we are used to graffiti, cigarette butts and dog doo everywhere. It was also much more interesting of a city than I had realized when Erik and I visited in the Spring. I definitely recommend it as a weekend trip - just maybe not with four kids by yourself, the youngest of whom having food poisoning. 

Although honestly, having written it all out, the bonding created by meeting the challenge together and the incredible tenderness Stone and I feel for each other made it quite a beautiful, and definitely memorable experience.