When in Barcelona...

This is about me, adapting.

I'm really not very good at it; for example I continue to pine for my old colleagues, my old cubicle, even my old commute a good few months after I made the decision to take a new job. And I wanted this new job!

I suppose an even better example would be my transition from veteran DINK to stroller-toting, nursing-bra wielding (not kidding here), burned-out but blissful looking mother of small child. This was something else I REALLY WANTED, and yet I accepted this new position reluctantly--as one does a fruitcake--longing (as I still sometimes do) for that obscure notion of freedom best captured in evenings when the after-work hours crawl by. The possibilities are endless. The choices, simple:
Indian or Chinese? We could always go up to the pub for tips.
Let's just stay home and watch the Sox. Ok, but not without some cold beers.
Where's the dog's leash? How much cash do we need? If we leave now, we can get to the liquor store (Sam Adams or Harpoon?) and back in 10.
You take the sofa. I've got the floor.
Rem-Dog and Orsillo! Like Kramer and Seinfeld, for the new millennium.
Oh...did I fall asleep? Yeah, sometime during the 7th inning stretch.
Get up? But that would require effort. Just give me five...more...minutes...

So, about adapting, then. I learned soon after accepting my new job that my presence at a conference in Spain was required within the first month of employment. My response was a mix of elation and dread; the most time I had spent away from my son to that point: 3 days. This trip was 6 days long. I'd heard Barcelona was great cosmopolitan city (it was) and I was SURE that HOMOTF (Husband of Mommy on the Fence) would not survive without me (shock of all shocks, he did). But these are the lesson one learns, then sometimes forgets and has to learn again.

I enjoyed Barcelona--thanks in large part to a few agenda-less outings with adventurous colleagues (my boss among them)--even overcame my mild case of social anxiety (thanks to Rioja, a most excellent native wine) and had some fun at the conference.

This, however, was not without a small price: I could NOT adjust to the time change, much less sleep. Awake 'til 3a.m., up at 6 for breakfast. Every night I called home (where it was 6 hours earlier) and forced conversation with my rather preoccupied husband. Though he had my mom's help for the week he was still, go figure, in charge of our son's schedule. And he--they--did beautifully, which made me feel entirely relieved and utterly useless. [Insert stunt-double mommy here.]

Four of us (3/4 being mothers) decided to spend our last night in Spain shopping for gifts and dining ITALIAN. It was the best meal of the week, and the wine (Spanish, as opposed to the cuisine) was predictably fabulous. The highlights: stimulating conversation, bits of insight into office politics, and best of all the chance to connect on a personal level with new colleagues, uninhibited (again, thanks to the Rioja).

When I returned to my hotel room to pack for my flight the next morning, I thought, I'm really doing this. I'm enjoying myself.

It only took me five days to get here.