The next step

It's been a while since my last post. It's not that I haven't tried, but I barely have time. Between my classes, little L, and little Pb's therapy this is the first Saturday morning when I have a few minutes to write. And that's because I'm ignoring the pile of plates that await me in the kitchen sink. Little Pb has been doing therapy with three different ladies for a couple of months. There has been some progress, but not enough, so yesterday he got his first set of hearing aids. So far, so good. He wore them one hour yesterday and three hours today. He didn't seem bothered by them, and he actually cried a little when I removed them before putting him to nap. Of course, he takes them off, but much less than we expected. We'll see how he does when he has to wear them all day long. It's still too early to know whether they are helping, because even if they make him hear more, that doesn't mean that he is understanding what we say, since this is a neural problem, and not a sensory one. A small percentage of ANDS kids do well enough with hearing aids. It would be great if he is one of them.
Little L and I have one week of classes to go, and then we will have a couple of weeks in Chicago's steaming summer before we all go to Spain. I think it will be good for everyone, we really need a break, and spending the summer there makes things much easier. This is like going back to the 80s, when my friends from the cities would spend the summer in my village with their grandparents or mothers while the  parents worked. We are doing the same, but I think that will be healthy for the kids.
In a few days I will post complaining about the heat, no doubt ;)

Dream

I have a dream, and my dream doesn't include skyscrapers and one hour commutes to work. My dream happens in a house in the mountains, back in Spain, which happens to be my parents house. In it, my husband and I decide to turn our lives around and go back home to take over my parents land, to become agricultors and follow the steps of my father, who had to retire six years ago. In my dream my kids run free on the backyard, and build castles with straw. They pick apples from our apple trees, and help me grow tomatoes. They go to the mountains to pick up mushrooms in the Fall, a Christmas tree in December, flowers in the spring, berries in the summer. They are happy and healthy and always surrounded by family.
For now, it's just a dream. But I know it's possible: that's how i grew up. And the older I get the more I miss it. For now, I will keep trying to convince my husband (an actuary who doesn't really like the countryside and maintains that he cannot live without a decent amount of pollution) that it's a good idea.
Don't get me wrong, I love Chicago, and I love the USA. But I miss my family a lot, and my parents cannot travel here for medical reasons, which makes my stay here more difficult every year. I will keep reporting on how my campaign goes. Wish me luck. Because sometimes, dreams come true.

La Furia Roja

"¡Campeones, campeones, oé oé oé!" This is one of the chants we sang to the top of our lungs on Sunday. The other one would go "¡Yo soy español, español, español!" or ¡A por ellos, oé, a por ellos, oé!" And when Iniesta score the goal that gave us the victory I cried. I cried because we won, and I cried because as we did I was able to jump up and down wearing the Spanish national team's T-shirt, and scream "¡España!". And I was able to do all of this because I was in a bar in the middle of Chicago, 5000 miles from home. Back there, I would have never dared to do it. Where I come from, you don't display Spanish flag. You don't scream "¡Viva España!". You don't sing pasodobles. You don't walk down the street wearing your red and yellow T-shirt. You don't usually celebrate the victories of the national team. Where I come from, there is a beautiful land full of wonderful people and some snakes. And those snakes made it unbearable for me to live there. I don't want to live in a place where I cannot say what I think, as much as I miss it. I love going back there, because I haven't found yet a region more beautiful than mine, the Basque Country. If you haven't been there go without fear, it's an amazing experience, don't get me wrong. I love it, and because I love it so much it hurts even more that some people would say I'm not Basque enough. I am. But I am Spanish enough too. And today, still in disbelief like the rest of the country, I smile, because I was able to see on TV Spanish flags being flown in my hometown. That freedom made me happy. I hope we learn some more lessons from those humble kids who made history today. We need more Casillas, and Puyols, and Iniestas, and Villas, and Xabis and Xavis, who don't care that much where they come from, they just want to play well and defend their colors. And maybe, after they win, kiss their girlfriends.

Obama

With husband and baby taking a nap, I get a chance to write a little bit, and reflect on a funny phenomenon I´m observing. Curiously enough I haven´t written about Obama yet, although I live in Chicago, where he is unavoidable. But since I am in Spain, I have observed that everyone has something to say about the guy. The first question I get from people I meet is "How was it to be there?". Although I didn´t goto the rally, apparently watching it from Lincoln Square on live TV is more that enough for them. Everyone is betting on the date he may be shot. Everyone has a line for him. Yesterday we were in a restaurant, and given how loud Spaniards are (and that includes me) we could hear our neighbours say: "He has such a good body", "He is so intelligent", "He plays basketball so well", "He could have such a great future", "Clinton wasn´t bad, but he is so much better..."
It was an interesting anniversary (seven years) lunch, because there was a power outage for one hour. A very interesting gastronomical experience. In one of my favourite restaurants, Arkupe, in Vitoria. Great food and service. I have to go, my father is complaining because I´m not doing anything productive...