Because competitive parenting is not a real sport.
In honor of the one(ish) year anniversary of Eric's free-diving accident, here is the full(er) story. I am in a taxi on my way to Hospital Mar Caribe. It took longer than usual to find a taxi because it’s Good Friday, which appears to be a shut-the-city-down kind of holiday in Colombia. The beaches have... Continue Reading →
For almost three months, we were a self-sufficient four-person unit: Karpinskis vs. Colombia. We ate, slept, studied, shopped, cooked, cleaned, watched Modern Family, did everything as a foursome. It was both awesome -- we could complete each other’s thoughts! -- and occasionally painful -- we could complete each other’s thoughts! Then late March and Eric’s... Continue Reading →
As we tried to channel our longing for home in a productive manner, poems happened. TWO-VOICE POEM by Retta San Diego Both Santa Marta You grew up with me You’re experiencing with me I am newfangled I am native I am here, I am waiting I can teach you I can comfort you I can... Continue Reading →
We are at the halfway point, the apex of this journey. For three months we’ve been climbing up from our monolingual, baffled-by-everything starting point, and now we’re teetering at the top, starting the long slide toward our return to “normal” life. In the grand tradition of Buzzfeed, where every article is “26 Male Celebs With... Continue Reading →
There are, to American eyes, five seats in Cero’s Land Cruiser: a driver’s seat, a passenger seat and a bench seat for three in the back comprised of ripped leather, wayward springs and rusty exposed bolts. This being Colombia, however, nine of us squeezed into his vehicle to tour the mountains above Santa Marta, one... Continue Reading →
It started to snow during the first kilometer, which is not what you’d expect, hiking in Colombia. It wasn’t a soft, New Hampshire, get-out-the-cross-country-skis snow, but a Rhode Island coastal snow, halfway between snow and sleet, that uniquely snot-like texture that sticks to and soaks through everything. Which is unfortunate since we were wearing 90%... Continue Reading →
It turns out, interestingly enough, that I’m not so good with ambiguity. It will surprise none of you who have spent more than five minutes with me to hear that I like to get the facts, decide and move on. Every professional -- and most of the amateurs -- of whom I’ve asked life advice... Continue Reading →
I like to think of myself as this flexible, go-with-the-flow kind of gal. You know, who rolls with the punches and takes things in stride and all those other vaguely sports-oriented metaphors. It turns out, however, based on a forty-odd year track record of actual evidence, that I’m not. Which is one of the suck-y... Continue Reading →
Packing for a six-month trip is a challenging task, doubly so when you are a person who hates to schlep stuff. Like, hates it. I have this vivid memory of trying to navigate from the Gare de Lyon to the Gare de Something Else in Paris after a cross-country, cross-Atlantic red-eye with all my gear... Continue Reading →
Last night, at 3:30am, I woke up with my first full-blown panic about our plan. Of course it won’t work. We will be miserable and lonely. None of us will speak Spanish well enough to make friends. We will be stuck with the weirdo ex-pats that washed ashore in Central America. Retta will turn 12... Continue Reading →
Anyone who has been in long-term relationship knows the trigger phrases. They are the words that, when they come out of your partner’s mouth, the world freezes. All senses go on high alert. “This is it,” you think. “Here it comes.” In my marriage, the trigger phrase is, “Hey, so I had this kind of... Continue Reading →
The World's Okayest Mom 