Once again this Thanksgiving, like many other people all over the good ol' U.S. of A., I feel compelled to sit down and really ponder my thanks, and express just how much I am grateful for every thing, good and bad, that has made my life what it is today.
I am thankful, first and foremost, for my health, without which I wouldn't be able to enjoy the other things on my list I need to give thanks for.
I am thankful for Andrea. The person with whom - after all these 12+ years - I'd most want to be stuck on a desert island with.
I am thankful for my Peanut, who keeps me smiling (and who, by the way, seems to have figured out how to sleep. Hallelujah and please don't take it away just 'cause I bragged about it!).
I am thankful for Baby #2, who I just KNOW is going to be the most serene and zen-like little one anyone has ever laid eyes on.
Next, I am thankful for my whole family back home. I think of them daily and miss their presence in my life, and am always appreciative of how things just seem to flow back into their normal routine even after just 3 seconds together again.
I am thankful for Andrea's family, who have from Day 1 taken me in as if I were a daughter.
I am thankful for all my amazing friends, near and far, who have not only helped share this Life and its Adventures, but have supplied themselves as the laugh track to soothe me on even the worst of days.
I am thankful for my job and the wonderful people I work with, who make making a living a real joy.
I am (nerdily enough) thankful for facebook, which has put me back in touch with old friends and that offers me food for thought and/or laughs on any given day.
I am thankful for the food on the table, the roof over my head, the luxuries of life I am able to afford myself and my family, and for canned pumpkin which helps the gap become a wee bit smaller on days like today.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Random memory.
This morning I suddenly remembered the very day Sofia first claimed her independence.
We were walking along in the park, as we were prone to do practically every day during her first year of life, when she suddenly started screaming. And kicking. Like a crazy person. She was not a happy camper. Had she eaten? Check. Was she hot? Nope. Cold? Nope. Was there a piece of metal accidentally stuck into her ribcage? Not that I could see. I tried everything. Hushes and songs, antics and more bottle. Nada.
On a whim, I decided to turn her stroller seat around - from facing me to turned out to the world. And wouldn't ya know it? She stopped screaming.
And I had to smile. My little girl...5 months, if I remember right?...had already had enough of my face and was ready to take on the world.
We were walking along in the park, as we were prone to do practically every day during her first year of life, when she suddenly started screaming. And kicking. Like a crazy person. She was not a happy camper. Had she eaten? Check. Was she hot? Nope. Cold? Nope. Was there a piece of metal accidentally stuck into her ribcage? Not that I could see. I tried everything. Hushes and songs, antics and more bottle. Nada.
On a whim, I decided to turn her stroller seat around - from facing me to turned out to the world. And wouldn't ya know it? She stopped screaming.
And I had to smile. My little girl...5 months, if I remember right?...had already had enough of my face and was ready to take on the world.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Baby, Part Deux
Deciding to have a baby is a tremendous leap of faith.
Deciding to go through it all again, having *just* nearly made it through the first round of sleepless nights and tantrums and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy, is downright insanity (I actually usually use other words to describe it, but we're keeping it PG-13 here, people).
"Was it planned?" has been the response we've gotten from nearly every person we've told we're expecting #2 to. Andrea's mom even added "...because this is the last piece of news I would ever have expected to hear from the two of you."
So, why? Why complicate an already ultra-complicated situation? Why risk adding sibling rivalry, more sleeplessness, nursing issues and a whole myriad of other possible problems into the mix?
Until just a few months ago, I was gung-ho against a second child. Sofia would make lots of friends wherever we roamed, she'd have good relationships with her schoolmates and cousins and it would all be fine, her being an only child. This was what I thought... until my grandfather passed away.
And then, we 3 flew out to Florida to be with my small-but-close family. I spent time with my brothers, I got to see my mom and my aunt help one another deal with the pain of losing their father. I witnessed different generations of cousins with siblings, and I realized that that's what I wanted for Sofia - and for Andrea and I.
I grew up in a family of 5 and it literally wasn't until I had Sofia and understood how hard it is that I realized that having 3 children in a family isn't the norm. I'd always taken it all for granted - the family holiday trips, the fights at dinner, the shared experiences. But, when I was there in Florida, looking around at my family, I realized that I wanted Sofia to have some form of that. For better or for worse, knowing she was not alone, knowing that there was someone else on the planet who came from her same roots, who understood in her a way she would always take for granted until one day she'd appreciate it.
And so I offered the idea up to my husband, who almost drove our rental car off the road. "I think we should have another baby." I explained my reasoning, and it didn't take him very long at all to agree - being as he has a brother himself, and when we had originally jumped into this baby thing, we'd sort of always assumed we'd have two.
And so...here we are. Awaiting the arrival of Number 2 in the Spring. Terrified at first, then determined, then excited, then grateful...now a mix of all the above. Mainly, I've come to realize that Number 2 is going to be totally different. I mean, like everyone keeps assuring me, there's no way Number 2 will be like Sofia (and therefore sleep is almost in the bag). But, also, Number 2 is not going to be so scary. That first look in his/her (we'll know in December) eyes, that first diaper change, that first car ride home and first bath and first walk outside in the stroller...it's not going to be nearly as frightening, because we're old pros at this already.
We're doing this because Family is important to us. Because sibling bonds are unique - be they awful or amazing. Because, in total honesty, in time it will actually be easier to parent 2 than 1, as they entertain one another (I'm fully aware that said entertaining may involve fistacuffs, mind you). Because I want to try this again, see another person grow and develop into something unimaginably awesome. Because Andrea is one of the greatest dads in the world and I want to give that to yet another person.
And because, well, truth be told, we're not really getting all that much sleep anyway....
Deciding to go through it all again, having *just* nearly made it through the first round of sleepless nights and tantrums and overwhelming feelings of inadequacy, is downright insanity (I actually usually use other words to describe it, but we're keeping it PG-13 here, people).
"Was it planned?" has been the response we've gotten from nearly every person we've told we're expecting #2 to. Andrea's mom even added "...because this is the last piece of news I would ever have expected to hear from the two of you."
So, why? Why complicate an already ultra-complicated situation? Why risk adding sibling rivalry, more sleeplessness, nursing issues and a whole myriad of other possible problems into the mix?
Until just a few months ago, I was gung-ho against a second child. Sofia would make lots of friends wherever we roamed, she'd have good relationships with her schoolmates and cousins and it would all be fine, her being an only child. This was what I thought... until my grandfather passed away.
And then, we 3 flew out to Florida to be with my small-but-close family. I spent time with my brothers, I got to see my mom and my aunt help one another deal with the pain of losing their father. I witnessed different generations of cousins with siblings, and I realized that that's what I wanted for Sofia - and for Andrea and I.
I grew up in a family of 5 and it literally wasn't until I had Sofia and understood how hard it is that I realized that having 3 children in a family isn't the norm. I'd always taken it all for granted - the family holiday trips, the fights at dinner, the shared experiences. But, when I was there in Florida, looking around at my family, I realized that I wanted Sofia to have some form of that. For better or for worse, knowing she was not alone, knowing that there was someone else on the planet who came from her same roots, who understood in her a way she would always take for granted until one day she'd appreciate it.
And so I offered the idea up to my husband, who almost drove our rental car off the road. "I think we should have another baby." I explained my reasoning, and it didn't take him very long at all to agree - being as he has a brother himself, and when we had originally jumped into this baby thing, we'd sort of always assumed we'd have two.
And so...here we are. Awaiting the arrival of Number 2 in the Spring. Terrified at first, then determined, then excited, then grateful...now a mix of all the above. Mainly, I've come to realize that Number 2 is going to be totally different. I mean, like everyone keeps assuring me, there's no way Number 2 will be like Sofia (and therefore sleep is almost in the bag). But, also, Number 2 is not going to be so scary. That first look in his/her (we'll know in December) eyes, that first diaper change, that first car ride home and first bath and first walk outside in the stroller...it's not going to be nearly as frightening, because we're old pros at this already.
We're doing this because Family is important to us. Because sibling bonds are unique - be they awful or amazing. Because, in total honesty, in time it will actually be easier to parent 2 than 1, as they entertain one another (I'm fully aware that said entertaining may involve fistacuffs, mind you). Because I want to try this again, see another person grow and develop into something unimaginably awesome. Because Andrea is one of the greatest dads in the world and I want to give that to yet another person.
And because, well, truth be told, we're not really getting all that much sleep anyway....
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Letter to Peanut
Dear Little Peanut,
Inspiration hit me today to send you a virtual letter and tell you all about what you're currently up to. The intention is that you'll have a way to see yourself (through me) in a few years - the reality is, the time goes so quickly that I, myself, want to frame this moment in time, as a way of remembering where we once were...perhaps to be used to your benefit when you hit 13 and I want to beat you up.
You are precisely 2 years, 3 months and 10 days old today. There are parts of you that seriously Have. Not. Changed since the first moment you were born. Looks on your face that are the very same as Day 1. That sideways glance you get - part devil, part master planner - when an idea is stirring. That voracious appetite (man, can you eat!), your near obsession with holding our fingers.
And then there are things about you that have developed over time - beautiful, wondrous things. Like, just the other day, when we were looking at one of your books, and I explained that the baby rabbit was crying because he was hungry, and you took your cereal and offered it to the page. Or when your daycare friends cry and you immediately run over to hug them and caress their backs. Or when the school "bully" (poor kid, just doesn't know his own strength) steals your paci and you happily laugh about it.
You are a complex little creature. You know what you want, and you are NOT happy when you don't get it (or if we make you wait more than 3.5 seconds to get it).
You are tenacious. You literally spent 35 minutes on my lap undoing and re-closing my buttons last night before bedtime. It also took us over 2 years to figure out that sleep was just NOT going to happen unless we just gave in a little bit (now you sleep -- like a rock -- on a mattress on the floor in our bedroom).
You are curious. The number 1 phrase heard out of your mouth (besides MOMMY, PAPA', VIENIIII - in English, "come heeeere!") is "Voglio vede'" - which means "I want to see." Your Papa' recently bought you a stool so you could move it around to wherever we were working - namely, the kitchen, so you could keep your eye on whatever it is we're creating.
You are stubborn. Oh, wait, I already used "tenacious." Let's keep it positive then :)
Time sweeps along and I smell your hair when you sit on my lap, to grasp a memory, one that will not fade. Yet, I know these memories will inevitably fade...I already can't remember the smell of your hair from one evening to the next...but the circling of warmth in my belly, my eyes, my chest will not. And, as life progresses and the years advance, I will continue to learn and understand new sides to you, and feel the awe of seeing you develop into your own perfectly imperfect little being.
Love,
Mommy
Inspiration hit me today to send you a virtual letter and tell you all about what you're currently up to. The intention is that you'll have a way to see yourself (through me) in a few years - the reality is, the time goes so quickly that I, myself, want to frame this moment in time, as a way of remembering where we once were...perhaps to be used to your benefit when you hit 13 and I want to beat you up.
You are precisely 2 years, 3 months and 10 days old today. There are parts of you that seriously Have. Not. Changed since the first moment you were born. Looks on your face that are the very same as Day 1. That sideways glance you get - part devil, part master planner - when an idea is stirring. That voracious appetite (man, can you eat!), your near obsession with holding our fingers.
And then there are things about you that have developed over time - beautiful, wondrous things. Like, just the other day, when we were looking at one of your books, and I explained that the baby rabbit was crying because he was hungry, and you took your cereal and offered it to the page. Or when your daycare friends cry and you immediately run over to hug them and caress their backs. Or when the school "bully" (poor kid, just doesn't know his own strength) steals your paci and you happily laugh about it.
You are a complex little creature. You know what you want, and you are NOT happy when you don't get it (or if we make you wait more than 3.5 seconds to get it).
You are tenacious. You literally spent 35 minutes on my lap undoing and re-closing my buttons last night before bedtime. It also took us over 2 years to figure out that sleep was just NOT going to happen unless we just gave in a little bit (now you sleep -- like a rock -- on a mattress on the floor in our bedroom).
You are curious. The number 1 phrase heard out of your mouth (besides MOMMY, PAPA', VIENIIII - in English, "come heeeere!") is "Voglio vede'" - which means "I want to see." Your Papa' recently bought you a stool so you could move it around to wherever we were working - namely, the kitchen, so you could keep your eye on whatever it is we're creating.
You are stubborn. Oh, wait, I already used "tenacious." Let's keep it positive then :)
Time sweeps along and I smell your hair when you sit on my lap, to grasp a memory, one that will not fade. Yet, I know these memories will inevitably fade...I already can't remember the smell of your hair from one evening to the next...but the circling of warmth in my belly, my eyes, my chest will not. And, as life progresses and the years advance, I will continue to learn and understand new sides to you, and feel the awe of seeing you develop into your own perfectly imperfect little being.
Love,
Mommy
Friday, September 16, 2011
5 years ago today...
Art. 143 in Italian civil marriage law
Reciprocal rights and responsibilities of spouses.
By marriage the husband and wife acquire the same rights and assume the same obligations.
From the marriage comes the duty of mutual loyalty, moral and material assistance, cooperation in the interest of the family and cohabitation.
Both spouses are required, each in relation to their material and their ability to perform professional work or at home, to contribute to the needs of the family.
Art. 143.
Diritti e doveri reciproci dei coniugi.
Con il matrimonio il marito e la moglie acquistano gli stessi diritti e assumono i medesimi doveri.
Dal matrimonio deriva l'obbligo reciproco alla fedeltà , all'assistenza morale e materiale, alla collaborazione nell'interesse della famiglia e alla coabitazione.
Entrambi i coniugi sono tenuti, ciascuno in relazione alle proprie sostanze e alla propria capacità di lavoro professionale o casalingo, a contribuire ai bisogni della famiglia.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Dark side to Parenthood, revealed (ooh!)
I've always been in control of myself in situations. I mean, it's always taken me a while to get into the groove in new surroundings, with new people. But give me a few months - max a year where more momentous change has happened - and I'm good to go.
So why is this parenting thing STILL so very hard?
Since nothing soothes the frustrated soul more than a list, I thought I'd make one.
REASON #1: That little person in front of you? Reason with it all you want. Explain it like it is, get as in depth and personal as you think is appropriate ("I really, really, really need you to listen to me right now!"), but he/she is not budging. The more upstanding a parent you want to be (so, no smacks on the behind, no lying or manipulating or bribing), the more your stick-in-the-mud child is going to make your life difficult. Did I just say "difficult"? I meant Impossible. Until your child hits...oh, I don't know...34?...he/she is living for himself alone, and that means whatever begging you do is going in one ear and out the other.
REASON #2: You are always going to feel envious of somebody else's parenting situation, for what you realize are totally inane things. See a family with an 8-year-old daughter, eating and *gasp* actually sitting down for an entire meal in a restaurant while you chase after your little pest, trying to convince him he's not allowed in the kitchen? Read someone else's facebook post about a 6-month-old baby who's learned to sleep through the night like a champ? You're going to start hating people - people you would otherwise adore, for the most ridiculous of reasons: they seem to know something you don't.
REASON #3: Sleep. Now that we put Sofia in her toddler bed (I'M A STUPID IDIOT), she has become a total nightmare. Do you have any idea of the sinking feeling of a little hand on your shoulder at 4am, waking you up and asking for juice in *just* that way, so you know you will not be getting back to sleep without a good scream-fest? It's painful. SO painful that even when she DOES decide to sleep, your husband wakes up with a jolt, dreaming that she was in the room hovering over him?! This is the stuff that horror films are made of (Side note to parents with kids younger than mine: KEEP THE CRIB BARS ON UNTIL THEY HIT PUBERTY).
REASON #4: It's stifling, when I let myself feel the weight of the responsibility we have here. She's been hating on her diaper for months now, but neither Andrea nor I have had the energy nor wherewithal to start working on potty training (god I hate that terminology). Because it's just too much. We've already taught her to eat (with utensils, at that!), to talk, to walk, to put on her own shoes, not to marker up the couch...isn't that enough? How much longer is this whole Parenting thing actually going to *last*? And what's the damn pay for it, because I've yet to see any salary receipts.
REASON #5: Today, as we were driving around trying to get Sofia to nap in the car (don't judge us), Andrea had the rear view mirror tilted down so he could have a good view of her from his driving position, and I got a good look at his face. He's exhausted. His beard is long and his eyes are tired and glassy. He's pale and he'd need at least 26 consecutive hours of sleep on a beach before he could feel normal again. I don't want this for us. I want things to be easier. I don't want us to fight from the frustration of a child who doesn't sleep. I want us to feel rested in the morning and recharged when Sofia goes to bed, I want to learn new things about each other and be happy for one another, and not simply give one another high fives for getting Sofia to sleep in her own bed. I want carefree back, just a little bit, just every once in a while.
So, you ask me, what the hell am I doing it for? Because, well, besides the fact that I'm not ready to sell her for moral reasons, I do know that things will get better. These are the Terrible 2's. She is determined and strong and stubborn -- all things that are frustrating now but will give her strength in the future. And so I will just concentrate on that and hope for the best. I will try to enjoy her smile and revel in moments like this afternoon when she grabbed my purse and her doll, ran into me in the hallway as she was walking around and said "Buongiorno, Mommy!!"
Til then, I think I'll go put those crib bars back on before they get back from the supermarket...
So why is this parenting thing STILL so very hard?
Since nothing soothes the frustrated soul more than a list, I thought I'd make one.
REASON #1: That little person in front of you? Reason with it all you want. Explain it like it is, get as in depth and personal as you think is appropriate ("I really, really, really need you to listen to me right now!"), but he/she is not budging. The more upstanding a parent you want to be (so, no smacks on the behind, no lying or manipulating or bribing), the more your stick-in-the-mud child is going to make your life difficult. Did I just say "difficult"? I meant Impossible. Until your child hits...oh, I don't know...34?...he/she is living for himself alone, and that means whatever begging you do is going in one ear and out the other.
REASON #2: You are always going to feel envious of somebody else's parenting situation, for what you realize are totally inane things. See a family with an 8-year-old daughter, eating and *gasp* actually sitting down for an entire meal in a restaurant while you chase after your little pest, trying to convince him he's not allowed in the kitchen? Read someone else's facebook post about a 6-month-old baby who's learned to sleep through the night like a champ? You're going to start hating people - people you would otherwise adore, for the most ridiculous of reasons: they seem to know something you don't.
REASON #3: Sleep. Now that we put Sofia in her toddler bed (I'M A STUPID IDIOT), she has become a total nightmare. Do you have any idea of the sinking feeling of a little hand on your shoulder at 4am, waking you up and asking for juice in *just* that way, so you know you will not be getting back to sleep without a good scream-fest? It's painful. SO painful that even when she DOES decide to sleep, your husband wakes up with a jolt, dreaming that she was in the room hovering over him?! This is the stuff that horror films are made of (Side note to parents with kids younger than mine: KEEP THE CRIB BARS ON UNTIL THEY HIT PUBERTY).
REASON #4: It's stifling, when I let myself feel the weight of the responsibility we have here. She's been hating on her diaper for months now, but neither Andrea nor I have had the energy nor wherewithal to start working on potty training (god I hate that terminology). Because it's just too much. We've already taught her to eat (with utensils, at that!), to talk, to walk, to put on her own shoes, not to marker up the couch...isn't that enough? How much longer is this whole Parenting thing actually going to *last*? And what's the damn pay for it, because I've yet to see any salary receipts.
REASON #5: Today, as we were driving around trying to get Sofia to nap in the car (don't judge us), Andrea had the rear view mirror tilted down so he could have a good view of her from his driving position, and I got a good look at his face. He's exhausted. His beard is long and his eyes are tired and glassy. He's pale and he'd need at least 26 consecutive hours of sleep on a beach before he could feel normal again. I don't want this for us. I want things to be easier. I don't want us to fight from the frustration of a child who doesn't sleep. I want us to feel rested in the morning and recharged when Sofia goes to bed, I want to learn new things about each other and be happy for one another, and not simply give one another high fives for getting Sofia to sleep in her own bed. I want carefree back, just a little bit, just every once in a while.
So, you ask me, what the hell am I doing it for? Because, well, besides the fact that I'm not ready to sell her for moral reasons, I do know that things will get better. These are the Terrible 2's. She is determined and strong and stubborn -- all things that are frustrating now but will give her strength in the future. And so I will just concentrate on that and hope for the best. I will try to enjoy her smile and revel in moments like this afternoon when she grabbed my purse and her doll, ran into me in the hallway as she was walking around and said "Buongiorno, Mommy!!"
Til then, I think I'll go put those crib bars back on before they get back from the supermarket...
Friday, August 5, 2011
I'm really trying to stay optimistic here
We were supposed to already be on the road an hour ago, leaving for Rome to stay overnight before our flight tomorrow back to the U.S. However, as tends to (constantly) happen in Toddlerland, CHANGE OF PLANS!
Sofia was up all night coughing, which meant Mommy and Papa' were up all night as well (might we have made a mistake with the toddler bed? We're beginning to suspect so...). So, we have to wait another couple hours, then we'll go bring her to her ped. Fingers crossed we right whatever's wrong. Our ped is starting to get worried about the number of times Sofia's been sick this past year. Doesn't comfort concerned parents when ped says she's "worried."
To make matters worse, I'm feeling like crap, too (head cold). Which is going to make all this travel really delightful. And did I mention my husband's on the verge of a nervous breakdown caused by Too much to take care of before leaving + being up all night with Peanut?
Wait, the title was "trying to stay optimistic." I guess I'm not doing a really great job at it. I guess...I just...I remember how TOUGH our trans-Atlantic "vacation" was last year (that word "vacation" makes me break out in a cold sweat now that Sofia exists), and I'm afraid. Very afraid. Hopefully that means I'll be pleasantly surprised.
Pray for me, peeps.
Sofia was up all night coughing, which meant Mommy and Papa' were up all night as well (might we have made a mistake with the toddler bed? We're beginning to suspect so...). So, we have to wait another couple hours, then we'll go bring her to her ped. Fingers crossed we right whatever's wrong. Our ped is starting to get worried about the number of times Sofia's been sick this past year. Doesn't comfort concerned parents when ped says she's "worried."
To make matters worse, I'm feeling like crap, too (head cold). Which is going to make all this travel really delightful. And did I mention my husband's on the verge of a nervous breakdown caused by Too much to take care of before leaving + being up all night with Peanut?
Wait, the title was "trying to stay optimistic." I guess I'm not doing a really great job at it. I guess...I just...I remember how TOUGH our trans-Atlantic "vacation" was last year (that word "vacation" makes me break out in a cold sweat now that Sofia exists), and I'm afraid. Very afraid. Hopefully that means I'll be pleasantly surprised.
Pray for me, peeps.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Generosity
If you can't be a highway,
Be a path.
If you can't be the sun,
Be a star.
Always be the best of what you are.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Growing Pains
Perhaps the most surreal part of being a parent is that you can literally see your child grow in front of your eyes. There are days when she'll wake up from a nap or come home from daycare and I'll take one look at her and see a whole new being in front of me.
"Did she get taller???" I ask Andrea. Yep, he sees it too.
I guess people who garden know what I'm talking about. One day you plant a seed and a short, random while later, you walk outside and there's a teeny tiny tomato making its way into the world.
(I just compared my daughter to a tomato.)
Sofia is getting big. And I'm now enough in the parenting groove to realize that her desire to sit on my lap and watch birds while holding hands is not going to last. I'm aware of it, now more than ever, and I know it's only going to move faster from here on out. So, this is my public promise to take it all in as much as I can - without becoming obsessive about it. Just feel free to take your time, Peanut!
"Did she get taller???" I ask Andrea. Yep, he sees it too.
I guess people who garden know what I'm talking about. One day you plant a seed and a short, random while later, you walk outside and there's a teeny tiny tomato making its way into the world.
(I just compared my daughter to a tomato.)
Sofia is getting big. And I'm now enough in the parenting groove to realize that her desire to sit on my lap and watch birds while holding hands is not going to last. I'm aware of it, now more than ever, and I know it's only going to move faster from here on out. So, this is my public promise to take it all in as much as I can - without becoming obsessive about it. Just feel free to take your time, Peanut!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Birthday girl!
My baby girl is 2 today.
I've said that sentence over to myself every day this week. I guess I've been trying to take it in, see how it felt. And it felt....exactly the way I thought it would: sunny with a chance of showers.
My baby girl.
Each one of those words separately has taken so much getting used to:
My.
Baby.
Girl.
And now, she's a real little person. A walking, talking, sassy little jokester with the cutest crooked smile and the sweetest, sweetest grey-blue eyes. I'm so proud of the little girl she is so far, and so excited to see what she will continue to become.
Happy 2nd anniversary of your birth day, my Peanut.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Happy Birthday, Andrea!
My husband deserves a trophy. In fact, if there were secret agents running around, stealthily choosing who to give such a Husband of the Year trophy to, I would bet my bottom dollar on him winning. No brainer.
I don't spend enough time praising Andrea. Truth be told, many times, if you had a window into our lives, you would find yourself thinking "Poor Andrea!" He is (so, so, so) often the poor soul who bears the brunt of my many character flaws. And yet, the reality is, he inspires me every single day to be a better person, a better Jodi and, since Sofia's arrival, a better parent. So, being as today is the anniversary of his birth, no time like the present to publicly sing his praises>>>
Andrea is strong. He is - though I generally hate this metaphor - a rock. If there were a fire drill, he'd be the guy who'd have everyone organized (and singing Kumbaya and sharing glasses of wine) in lines in about 2 seconds.
Andrea is hysterical. He's goofy, and a refined appreciator of double entendre.
Andrea is really freaking smart. And anyone who's ever spoken to him for more than 4 seconds knows this.
Andrea is kind. The only things I've ever seen him hate are injustice and mosquitoes.
Andrea is really creative. Lots of people only know his highly scientific/mathematical side. But, lest we forget, he's a Gemini! He's got so many sides to him, he'd give Freud a true run for his money. He is also a really gifted artist, little known fact.
Andrea is an amazing father. And Sofia is so very lucky to have him - and not only because he plays with her and makes her laugh and cuddles her every chance he gets...but because he really, truly, enjoys getting to know her for who *she* is and not at all who he wants her to be (though, Sofia, if you're reading this, I know he'd really appreciate it if you'd take the whining down a notch, thankyouverymuch).
I really could go on for hours here. I am a lucky lady, and that's even without any comment on what a hottie he is!!
So, my dear, one-of-a-kind adventurer...I love you and wish you all the joy you deserve in this life.
AUGURI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I don't spend enough time praising Andrea. Truth be told, many times, if you had a window into our lives, you would find yourself thinking "Poor Andrea!" He is (so, so, so) often the poor soul who bears the brunt of my many character flaws. And yet, the reality is, he inspires me every single day to be a better person, a better Jodi and, since Sofia's arrival, a better parent. So, being as today is the anniversary of his birth, no time like the present to publicly sing his praises>>>
Andrea is strong. He is - though I generally hate this metaphor - a rock. If there were a fire drill, he'd be the guy who'd have everyone organized (and singing Kumbaya and sharing glasses of wine) in lines in about 2 seconds.
Andrea is hysterical. He's goofy, and a refined appreciator of double entendre.
Andrea is really freaking smart. And anyone who's ever spoken to him for more than 4 seconds knows this.
Andrea is kind. The only things I've ever seen him hate are injustice and mosquitoes.
Andrea is really creative. Lots of people only know his highly scientific/mathematical side. But, lest we forget, he's a Gemini! He's got so many sides to him, he'd give Freud a true run for his money. He is also a really gifted artist, little known fact.
Andrea is an amazing father. And Sofia is so very lucky to have him - and not only because he plays with her and makes her laugh and cuddles her every chance he gets...but because he really, truly, enjoys getting to know her for who *she* is and not at all who he wants her to be (though, Sofia, if you're reading this, I know he'd really appreciate it if you'd take the whining down a notch, thankyouverymuch).
I really could go on for hours here. I am a lucky lady, and that's even without any comment on what a hottie he is!!
So, my dear, one-of-a-kind adventurer...I love you and wish you all the joy you deserve in this life.
AUGURI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Things I Love Right Now
- Looking down from the window above and seeing Sofia and Andrea, both of them with their head tilted in the same exact way, chatting with my neighbors.
- Passing by the restaurant where we had Sofia's 1st birthday celebration.
- Watching Sofia play with her best buddies from daycare, Carla and Vicki.
- Hearing Sofia say "Mommy!!" now, instead of just "Mamma!"
- Sofia kicking her legs and screaming with excitement at the prospect of a walk outside with her "pitto" (passeggino, her stroller).
- Her squeals of joy, loud enough to be heard above music and 15 other babies and their parents, just before going down the pool slide again.
- How she grabs Andrea's cheeks with both hands and turns his head to face her so she knows she has his full attention.
- Her kisses, complete with delicious "SMAK" sound.
- Her pot belly post-bath, after she's drunk half a vat full of bath water.
- Sofia rocking her "babies" to sleep (her Dolly, Mao her stuffed cat and her Curious George doll).
- How she hasn't *quite* mastered separating her fingers as she tries to tell us she's going to turn "DOOOO!" (two!).
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Picking Up Peanut
It's 3:48pm. Crucial moment here in the household, because it means that in all of 12 minutes I will be going to pick up my Peanut.
Positives: I GET TO SEE PEANUT! I've missed her all day and can't wait for that smile I (sometimes) get when I walk through the daycare door.
Negatives: After said (possible) smile, I will then spend the subsequent 28 minutes convincing her to (a) leave daycare, (b) sit in her car seat (this is the worst one, and lately involves punishment of some sort) and (c) not to pull my hair.
Do the positives outweigh the negatives? Well, that wholly depends on what time you ask me. You see, the lovely thing about parenthood, spanning from the actual birthing to anything from meltdowns to missed curfews to screaming matches, is that, hours later, it is already physically impossible to sensorially remember just how much your kid pissed you off.
So, right now, seeing as I haven't seen my Peanut since 8:45 this morning when she insisted on turning on my car radio in the driveway before I left for work, I can say: no brainer, positives are definitely outweighing the negatives, can't wait to see her.
On the other hand, if you ask me in a half-hour, amid the hair-pulling-not-doing-the-carseat-thing drama, my answer will be of quite a different sort: ADOPT HER!!!!!
Happy Belated Mommy's Day, co-Mommies!
Positives: I GET TO SEE PEANUT! I've missed her all day and can't wait for that smile I (sometimes) get when I walk through the daycare door.
Negatives: After said (possible) smile, I will then spend the subsequent 28 minutes convincing her to (a) leave daycare, (b) sit in her car seat (this is the worst one, and lately involves punishment of some sort) and (c) not to pull my hair.
Do the positives outweigh the negatives? Well, that wholly depends on what time you ask me. You see, the lovely thing about parenthood, spanning from the actual birthing to anything from meltdowns to missed curfews to screaming matches, is that, hours later, it is already physically impossible to sensorially remember just how much your kid pissed you off.
So, right now, seeing as I haven't seen my Peanut since 8:45 this morning when she insisted on turning on my car radio in the driveway before I left for work, I can say: no brainer, positives are definitely outweighing the negatives, can't wait to see her.
On the other hand, if you ask me in a half-hour, amid the hair-pulling-not-doing-the-carseat-thing drama, my answer will be of quite a different sort: ADOPT HER!!!!!
Happy Belated Mommy's Day, co-Mommies!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Decisions, decisions
Being a mom has made me less afraid of things I was afraid of before, and more afraid of things I was never afraid of.
Life has been somewhat tumultuous these past few weeks (work stuff) and, going through it, I realized that my way of handling it all has changed so much since Sofia's come to be. While big decisions are hard to make regardless, the heart of what's at them is now different. No longer thinking solely of what benefits me or even what is best for Andrea, but really focusing - happily focusing - on what it all means to little Sofia. How it will affect her life, how my decisions will come to touch her future self, if at all.
I suppose this is all pretty common knowledge (especially to parents more seasoned than I). And, of course, this is not at all to say that I've become selfless or do anything only based on Sofia. No, no, the self-centered me would never be party to that sort of silliness. I just feel more...balanced? Responsible? Protective?. All of the above I guess. All of the above, and a touch of Wanting to Make 'Er Proud.
Life has been somewhat tumultuous these past few weeks (work stuff) and, going through it, I realized that my way of handling it all has changed so much since Sofia's come to be. While big decisions are hard to make regardless, the heart of what's at them is now different. No longer thinking solely of what benefits me or even what is best for Andrea, but really focusing - happily focusing - on what it all means to little Sofia. How it will affect her life, how my decisions will come to touch her future self, if at all.
I suppose this is all pretty common knowledge (especially to parents more seasoned than I). And, of course, this is not at all to say that I've become selfless or do anything only based on Sofia. No, no, the self-centered me would never be party to that sort of silliness. I just feel more...balanced? Responsible? Protective?. All of the above I guess. All of the above, and a touch of Wanting to Make 'Er Proud.
Monday, May 2, 2011
What Allergy Season Means to Me
It's that time of the year again, folks! The one where I am the worst possible person I can be: simultaneously sneezy, fidgety, frustrated, snippy and totally out of it thanks to the antihistamines. You just gotta love me from May 1st (precisely) to end-of-June.
The annoying thing is, I really love Springtime so so much. I love the whole flower blooming and animal mating and such. The rejuvenation of it all. Who doesn't appreciate the poetic sunshine after a long, dark winter? Hitler, that's who. Oh, and me, at 3 o'clock in the morning when my throat is so scratchy it feels like I swallowed a vial of poison ivy. Thanks, Nature.
My new doc put me on new meds this year, we'll see how it works out for me. Right now, I'm on Day 2 (perhaps I should've started earlier...say, December?) and my nose is as red and eyes as puffy as ever. It took me 13 minutes just to get all the crud off my eyelids this morning when I woke up. (Enjoy your lunch!)
One day they will find a cure for seasonal allergies (if he weren't dead, I'd be calling Jerry Lewis right now - wait, he's dead, right?). Until then, I just have to suck it up. And wonder what the hell possessed me to move to Umbria, "the green heart of Italy."
ACHOO!
The annoying thing is, I really love Springtime so so much. I love the whole flower blooming and animal mating and such. The rejuvenation of it all. Who doesn't appreciate the poetic sunshine after a long, dark winter? Hitler, that's who. Oh, and me, at 3 o'clock in the morning when my throat is so scratchy it feels like I swallowed a vial of poison ivy. Thanks, Nature.
My new doc put me on new meds this year, we'll see how it works out for me. Right now, I'm on Day 2 (perhaps I should've started earlier...say, December?) and my nose is as red and eyes as puffy as ever. It took me 13 minutes just to get all the crud off my eyelids this morning when I woke up. (Enjoy your lunch!)
One day they will find a cure for seasonal allergies (if he weren't dead, I'd be calling Jerry Lewis right now - wait, he's dead, right?). Until then, I just have to suck it up. And wonder what the hell possessed me to move to Umbria, "the green heart of Italy."
ACHOO!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Things I Want Sofia to Know
Life is full of pitfalls. Do your best to land on your feet and then keep walking.
You will not want anything to do with me during your teenage years. This is OK and totally normal, don't beat yourself up about it. Just make sure you continue brushing your teeth and don't do anything stupid while you're taking a break from me.
Don't spend too much time in front of the tv (or, erm, the computer). Every once in a while, take a break and go for a long walk outside.
Whatever your chosen career path may be, never ever ever let anyone take advantage of you. Right or wrong, the world sees you as what you sell yourself as.
Don't be afraid to speak your mind, but don't aim to hurt anyone's feelings. Be diplomatic.
There are always two sides, if not more, to every story.
Never trust a partner who has cheated on another partner to be with you.
Avoid food shopping on Friday evenings, unless you love angry crowds.
Go with what you think fits you best, even if the person you're going against is me.
Complain if you have to, but don't let the complaining go on too long. If you are systematically waking up unhappy, change is required.
Never go home with someone you just met at a bar.
Practice using your instincts, and learn to trust them.
Don't be mad at me when you figure out I'm not perfect.
Someone will always love you.
Take notes. There won't be an exam at the end, but you'll find pleasure and comfort in looking your diaries over one day (and don't write in code because you'll never remember).
You don't have to get married. You just have to be happy and feel appreciated.
Relationships of any kind are hard work. If you truly care for someone, work on letting them know it.
Try to always look people in the eye when they're talking to you.
Say Please and Thank You and smile as much as possible, even if you don't feel like it. (Edited many years later to say: this is actually wrong. Don't feel like you have to smile just because...being genuine is more important, so only smile if smiling feels right!)
Ask questions. Ask for help. Be humble.
Don't underestimate the power of a joke.
Remember where you came from, never lose sight of where you're going- even if the target changes daily (that's ok too!).
If you ever have a child one day, make sure you're ready for the responsibility first. I don't want to have to be there every day to babysit! (kidding! sorta...)
You have been blessed with the knowledge of 2 languages, don't give either of them up, ever.
Read lots of books and learn to cook.
Be careful, but don't lose yourself in paranoia.
Sometimes you're going to feel like throwing in the towel. Don't. Whatever it is will pass - if not today, soon.
Sometimes you have to withstand something painful for the good of the long-term.
Make sure you're doing things for the right reasons, and learn to say no when you really just can't.
Appreciate what you have been blessed with.
Whatever religion you choose is fine, even if it's none. Be spiritual though.
Mommy and Papa' love you and will always be here for you. Even if you rob a bank or something stupid.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
A Good Day
It's been such a nice day so far today. Breakfast out just the three of us, then the swimming pool, then lunch at the nonni and now nap time. Papa' is off playing a soccer game, but when he gets home, it'll be bath time and then dinner out at our favorite local place. In the meantime, soon as Peanut wakes up, I plan on snuggling her up since it's pretty chilly outside today.
Not a bad Saturday. Hope yours is comfy too!
Not a bad Saturday. Hope yours is comfy too!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The Dark Side
I love how people always look at me like "Oh no! WhatEVER could be wrong with her?" whenever they witness Sofia in a tantrum (and by "love" I mean it really freaking steams my windows).
Here is the fact: my daughter has a tendency to be one of those toddlers. Yup. Those. The kind that makes you walk out of a restaurant and smugly whisper "Our child will never be that way!" to your significant other. It's fine, go ahead and whisper. I wouldn't want to be in my shoes mid-tantrum either. Her acting out make me cringe, too. And I most certainly thought I would have it all under control when it was my turn, too.
Wrong. Wrong, and wrong (am I forgetting something? oh yeah!: WRONG). Sofia is a champion, a genius, a beauty, a clown and the kindest little Peanut this side of the Milky Way. But she can also be a royal pain in the a$$ ('s' with dollar signs because you can bet your bottom dollar on it).
This past week, the hair pulling started. Before that, it was the clichèd throwing-self-on-floor-kicking-and-screaming-at-random-times-of-day (diaper changes, getting dressed, any time the word "no" was pronounced) Even before that, it was the deliberate touching of the outlets. In uterus, it was the refusing to stay still for the sonogram (that one was extremely hard to discipline).
I don't even know what to do, to be honest - which is why the "WhatEVER could be wrong with her?" looks really get my goat. I mean, WTF? YES, she is a TODDLER, she throws TANTRUMS. Why the worried look? She's fine, *I'm* the unstable one right now! And how on earth am *I* supposed to know how to deal with this? I am, after all, only 16! (Wait, what, I'm not? Oh, c'mon!!!!) Time Outs are laughable (no, I mean, she literally laughs in my face). Yelling at her gets her just the attention she wants. Distracting her does work, but it takes a whole lot of constant effort and creativity. Ignoring her seems to be the best method right now...and that is so not how I saw myself mothering my child.
Anyhoo.
So, take this as a warning:
(1) If you don't have children yet, know that you've heard the phrase "terrible twos" kicked around a lot, but you have no actual idea of what it means, so beware,
and
(2) If you happen to be around while my daughter is trying to kill me because I tried to put shoes on her, please do not look at her with those pitying eyes and ask me if she's hungry. She's not - she's just almost 2.
Here is the fact: my daughter has a tendency to be one of those toddlers. Yup. Those. The kind that makes you walk out of a restaurant and smugly whisper "Our child will never be that way!" to your significant other. It's fine, go ahead and whisper. I wouldn't want to be in my shoes mid-tantrum either. Her acting out make me cringe, too. And I most certainly thought I would have it all under control when it was my turn, too.
Wrong. Wrong, and wrong (am I forgetting something? oh yeah!: WRONG). Sofia is a champion, a genius, a beauty, a clown and the kindest little Peanut this side of the Milky Way. But she can also be a royal pain in the a$$ ('s' with dollar signs because you can bet your bottom dollar on it).
This past week, the hair pulling started. Before that, it was the clichèd throwing-self-on-floor-kicking-and-screaming-at-random-times-of-day (diaper changes, getting dressed, any time the word "no" was pronounced) Even before that, it was the deliberate touching of the outlets. In uterus, it was the refusing to stay still for the sonogram (that one was extremely hard to discipline).
I don't even know what to do, to be honest - which is why the "WhatEVER could be wrong with her?" looks really get my goat. I mean, WTF? YES, she is a TODDLER, she throws TANTRUMS. Why the worried look? She's fine, *I'm* the unstable one right now! And how on earth am *I* supposed to know how to deal with this? I am, after all, only 16! (Wait, what, I'm not? Oh, c'mon!!!!) Time Outs are laughable (no, I mean, she literally laughs in my face). Yelling at her gets her just the attention she wants. Distracting her does work, but it takes a whole lot of constant effort and creativity. Ignoring her seems to be the best method right now...and that is so not how I saw myself mothering my child.
Anyhoo.
So, take this as a warning:
(1) If you don't have children yet, know that you've heard the phrase "terrible twos" kicked around a lot, but you have no actual idea of what it means, so beware,
and
(2) If you happen to be around while my daughter is trying to kill me because I tried to put shoes on her, please do not look at her with those pitying eyes and ask me if she's hungry. She's not - she's just almost 2.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Playing favorites
I'm going to talk about something that's not all that fun for me to talk about: Sofia's playing favorites. Namely, her choosing her Papa' over me 9 times out of 10. Scratch that, make it 9.5 times out of 10.
I've racked my brain endlessly about why this might be. Is it because we got off to such a rocky start? Is it because mainly Andrea bottle fed her? Is it because I wasn't able to breastfeed her? Is it simply because she's a Daddy's girl? Is it because we send her to daycare? Is it because I'm the only one speaking to her in English? Is it the way I wear my hair or the tone of my voice or because I made her chicken for dinner when she wanted pasta?????
Whatever the reason be, it's something I've been dealing with for quite a while now. Though there are those fantastic (heavenly) days when both Mommy and Papa' are cool, most of the time Papa' can't leave a room without her screaming (you tell me how good it feels to have someone scream bloody murder because they have to be alone in a room with you for 3 minutes).
And then, yesterday, I got a little more insight. We took her to a birthday party for one of her daycare friends and, lo and behold, I saw a different side to Sofia: the side that is all but identical to moi, yours truly. I'd always just assumed Sofia was sociable and outgoing like her father, but yesterday we realized just how much of an Observer she is, too. She took a while to warm up and, many times, preferred to do her own thing, playing outside with a stroller while the other kids ate cookies and screamed (mainly screamed - sorry, head). She was perfectly content to munch on her piece of pizza, give a quick boogie to the music and then run to the bathroom alone to turn the faucets on and off.
So the question came to me: could one reason for her distance from me be because of how much we are alike deep-down? Could she be searching out her Papa' for the same reasons I do?: security and a calming presence who will protect her as she observes from afar, at least at first?
Could be. Also, could be that she just isn't that into me, but considering I'm her MOM and all, I'm going to go with Option A. And hope and pray that, as she grows up, she will learn that I can teach her a thing or two about how to run into the bathroom and turn the faucets on and off without seeming like a total freak.
I've racked my brain endlessly about why this might be. Is it because we got off to such a rocky start? Is it because mainly Andrea bottle fed her? Is it because I wasn't able to breastfeed her? Is it simply because she's a Daddy's girl? Is it because we send her to daycare? Is it because I'm the only one speaking to her in English? Is it the way I wear my hair or the tone of my voice or because I made her chicken for dinner when she wanted pasta?????
Whatever the reason be, it's something I've been dealing with for quite a while now. Though there are those fantastic (heavenly) days when both Mommy and Papa' are cool, most of the time Papa' can't leave a room without her screaming (you tell me how good it feels to have someone scream bloody murder because they have to be alone in a room with you for 3 minutes).
And then, yesterday, I got a little more insight. We took her to a birthday party for one of her daycare friends and, lo and behold, I saw a different side to Sofia: the side that is all but identical to moi, yours truly. I'd always just assumed Sofia was sociable and outgoing like her father, but yesterday we realized just how much of an Observer she is, too. She took a while to warm up and, many times, preferred to do her own thing, playing outside with a stroller while the other kids ate cookies and screamed (mainly screamed - sorry, head). She was perfectly content to munch on her piece of pizza, give a quick boogie to the music and then run to the bathroom alone to turn the faucets on and off.
So the question came to me: could one reason for her distance from me be because of how much we are alike deep-down? Could she be searching out her Papa' for the same reasons I do?: security and a calming presence who will protect her as she observes from afar, at least at first?
Could be. Also, could be that she just isn't that into me, but considering I'm her MOM and all, I'm going to go with Option A. And hope and pray that, as she grows up, she will learn that I can teach her a thing or two about how to run into the bathroom and turn the faucets on and off without seeming like a total freak.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Peanut's birthing day
My BFF Elizabeth recently came across (and by "came across" I mean finally put it in her To Do list to find it after I annoyingly hounded her) a CD of pictures taken just hours after Sofia's birth. She will be packing the CD up and bringing it with her when she comes to visit (yayyayayayayayayyayayayaya), but sent me a small preview of the preciousness.
Wow...just, wow. Look at little scrunchy, smooshy Sofia! Look at me, all just-out-of-surgery grey-colour and Andrea with that sweet little not-knowing-what-he's-in-for face! We're adoooor'ble!
Thanks Auntie Lizzie!!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Life in Bella Italia
I've been thinking a lot lately about my choice to live here in Italy. Lots of times, people tell me it was such a courageous thing to do - which is a huge compliment, but one that I feel like I can't exactly accept. At least without this disclaimer: I was 23!
Don't get me wrong, I don't in any way feel like it was a mistake moving here, or do I think I was stupid for doing it. But, you know, it's much easier to make decisions when you're 23, than when you're, say, 36 (not that I'm that old or anything). When you're 23, it's just sort of what I call the Pin the Tail on the Donkey choice: close your eyes, find the general direction your heart (and inner ear balance) takes you, extend your hand forward and pounce, and hope to get it centered as best you can.
Luckily, I'm a pretty mean Pin the Talk on the Donkey player. My instincts are good (which is probably the A#2 hope I have for Sofia as she grows up - A#1 being health, of course), and I knew instantly that Home was where Andrea was. How did I know this? Because, from the first time we met, I could sense his presence in a room without even lifting my eyes. Pretty good reason, huh?
While my decision to come live here was actually easy as pie, the actual living of it, day in and day out, can be pretty damn hard, however. The first years were especially wrought with adjustment problems. I loved this country as a student and visitor, but then the working world (often a contradiction in terms in Italy), the bureaucracy (bureau-craZy), the politics, the ass-kissing, the chauvenism...the INJUSTICE I often find here is hard for an American to swallow - even one as seemingly "un-American" as myself.
I still have that angst, and often, especially with Peanut in tow now. But - and maybe this is precisely *because* I have Peanut in tow now - I feel like I've been able to come back 'round full circle to remembering why I appreciated this country in the first place: people here haven't removed themselves from the actual act of *living*. I've pshawed the Italian month-long August holidays - but I've since realized my real question is, why doesn't everyone take a month off in August? Here in Italy, the important things include Family, Food, Friends and Fun. Does that make this a lazy country? Well, yeah, it does - which is what really gets my panties in a knot when all I need is to mail a letter at the post office and everyone is on a coffee break. But now I've come to respect the coffee breaks: why on Earth should I NOT have a coffee break? You can wait, life can wait, the financial market sure as hell can wait. I only live once. Why should I be denied my cup of coffee just so I can help you mail your letter?
I wish I could print this out and somehow have My Past Self from 10 Years Ago read this post....oh, the laughter (and frustration) I'd get from myself!!
Anyway. Am ending this now so I can go get some coffee. Go Italy! (just please stop closing supermarkets on Sundays!)
Don't get me wrong, I don't in any way feel like it was a mistake moving here, or do I think I was stupid for doing it. But, you know, it's much easier to make decisions when you're 23, than when you're, say, 36 (not that I'm that old or anything). When you're 23, it's just sort of what I call the Pin the Tail on the Donkey choice: close your eyes, find the general direction your heart (and inner ear balance) takes you, extend your hand forward and pounce, and hope to get it centered as best you can.
Luckily, I'm a pretty mean Pin the Talk on the Donkey player. My instincts are good (which is probably the A#2 hope I have for Sofia as she grows up - A#1 being health, of course), and I knew instantly that Home was where Andrea was. How did I know this? Because, from the first time we met, I could sense his presence in a room without even lifting my eyes. Pretty good reason, huh?
While my decision to come live here was actually easy as pie, the actual living of it, day in and day out, can be pretty damn hard, however. The first years were especially wrought with adjustment problems. I loved this country as a student and visitor, but then the working world (often a contradiction in terms in Italy), the bureaucracy (bureau-craZy), the politics, the ass-kissing, the chauvenism...the INJUSTICE I often find here is hard for an American to swallow - even one as seemingly "un-American" as myself.
I still have that angst, and often, especially with Peanut in tow now. But - and maybe this is precisely *because* I have Peanut in tow now - I feel like I've been able to come back 'round full circle to remembering why I appreciated this country in the first place: people here haven't removed themselves from the actual act of *living*. I've pshawed the Italian month-long August holidays - but I've since realized my real question is, why doesn't everyone take a month off in August? Here in Italy, the important things include Family, Food, Friends and Fun. Does that make this a lazy country? Well, yeah, it does - which is what really gets my panties in a knot when all I need is to mail a letter at the post office and everyone is on a coffee break. But now I've come to respect the coffee breaks: why on Earth should I NOT have a coffee break? You can wait, life can wait, the financial market sure as hell can wait. I only live once. Why should I be denied my cup of coffee just so I can help you mail your letter?
I wish I could print this out and somehow have My Past Self from 10 Years Ago read this post....oh, the laughter (and frustration) I'd get from myself!!
Anyway. Am ending this now so I can go get some coffee. Go Italy! (just please stop closing supermarkets on Sundays!)
Friday, April 1, 2011
Mid-day realization.
My daughter is going to be 16 one day and will longer wake up begging to watch youtube videos of horses as an excuse to cuddle with me.
That is all.
Sniff.
That is all.
Sniff.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
My case for not using baby food
I love our pediatrician. She's snarky and obnoxious, answers her cell phone rolling her eyes already at the idjiot parent that will certainly be on the other end and hardly ever makes eye contact with Andrea, even though he's as primary a caregiver as I am. BUT (I'm sure you were hoping there was one, or else I'm just a masochist), she's genius. Ahead of the times, and we trust 99.9% of the very updated information she offers us, despite the belittling tone it arrives in.
The most important of these tidbits of information had to do with weaning Sofia. When we showed up in her office for Sofia's 5-month visit, she pulled out a piece of paper and started writing down the Mediterranean food pyramid and the name of a really awesome book, "Io Mi Svezzo da Solo" ("I can wean myself!" - still haven't been able to find an English translation of it though) by Lucio Piermarini. The idea of it is similar to the US/UK "Baby-led Weaning":
1. waiting the full 6 months as recommended to start weaning, then allowing baby to eat what you eat (assuming a healthy, well-rounded diet for yourself, obviously)
2. allowing baby, when possible, to use his/her own hands to feed himself
3. not pureeing everything but making them the right bite sizes, at least until baby gets used to feeling him/herself and texture
4. not forcing, ever: baby will turn his/her head when satiated, respect that
5. not making food an issue: the more you push, the more it will become baby's only form of manipulation/power
6. continuing with breastmilk/formula as part of the meal for as long as baby is interested
Andrea and I are hesitant to call ourselves "successful" in any area of parenting, but with this one, we feel we can. Sofia is an amazing eater - will try anything, eats really healthily and enjoys mealtime. We have never had a struggle with her about food, in any way, shape or form. And we give the credit to this method and, in turn, to our crazy pediatrician.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Early Days
I've never really openly talked about how difficult the first few months (year?) of Sofia's life were, but I read an awesome post today speaking out against judging women for breastfeeding or not, and a whole mess of emotions came flooding back, reminding me of those way-back-when days. Though, as fresh as the emotions felt, I guess they're not really all that way-back-when.
Sofia was due on June 15th. After a week of Nada, my Ob/Gyn decided to have me induced. I wasn't all that happy about it, but at least we'd be getting a move on. Monday, we checked ourselves into the hospital, but by Wednesday evening, despite several painful attempts at induction, still Nada. Overdue Day 10 was the next day, June 25th, and it was time. I cried a lot that evening: Andrea and I had read books, taken courses, talked to friends. We'd psyched ourselves up for natural childbirth. And now...now that was all flying out the window. But, my awesome husband reminded me that, just 20 years ago, both the baby and I would probably not have even made it, and so we picked ourselves up and looked on the bright side.
Fast-forward to post-birth. Me in pain from not eating since my Monday hospital arrival, just having undergone a C-section, with a husband who'd slept on a chair for 3 nights straight, in a hospital without a nursery, favoring "rooming in" (which, by the way, I totally *get* and, under normal conditions, would have been completely in favor of -- in my situation, though, I/we could have used a couple hours rest). And a baby who wasn't all that into sleeping - what, after having tried to break out of Fort Knox for the past 3 days, to no avail. She was probably (rightfully) pissed!
I won't go through every single detail now, but things progressed fairly badly. I was in pain and recovering, Andrea was flailing. It was HOT at the end of June and we had a LOT of visitors in the hospital, neither of us strong enough to beg for some privacy. And then...there were the breastfeeding issues.
Sofia was and is a *hungry* baby. And so, despite seemingly latching on properly (even my lactatian consultant said so, we went to her every Friday morning!), she destroyed me, literally - my doctor actually sent me to a plastic surgeon at one point to see if I needed fixing up. I got two consecutive cases of mastitis and dreaded, dreaded, dreaded feeding time.
After a month of all this pain and suffering, Andrea and I decided it would be best to start pumping. And so that started, and I continued (with, however, undo pressure put on myself, in hindsight) for 10 months -- regardless of where I was, what we had to do, time of day, my needs...pumping came first, for 10 full months. I would pump and, often, Andrea would feed Sofia. And feeding time became their bonding time.
There was a day back in the beginning where I realized at about 8pm at night that I hadn't put my glasses on all day, while I normally wear them at all hours. There were times when I would dread being alone with Sofia because I felt inept, incapable, afraid. Sometimes, Andrea will bring up something that went on those first few weeks and I recall nothing. Maybe it was the fever from the mastitis, maybe it was depression or simply me being all up in my head, trying to take it all in, from the inside-out. Whatever it was, Sofia and I got off to a rocky start. And so, even more reason to rejoice where we are now - as full of obstacles as the road has been, and continues to be (um, still not fully sleeping...), we've come a long way, baby!
Sofia was due on June 15th. After a week of Nada, my Ob/Gyn decided to have me induced. I wasn't all that happy about it, but at least we'd be getting a move on. Monday, we checked ourselves into the hospital, but by Wednesday evening, despite several painful attempts at induction, still Nada. Overdue Day 10 was the next day, June 25th, and it was time. I cried a lot that evening: Andrea and I had read books, taken courses, talked to friends. We'd psyched ourselves up for natural childbirth. And now...now that was all flying out the window. But, my awesome husband reminded me that, just 20 years ago, both the baby and I would probably not have even made it, and so we picked ourselves up and looked on the bright side.
Fast-forward to post-birth. Me in pain from not eating since my Monday hospital arrival, just having undergone a C-section, with a husband who'd slept on a chair for 3 nights straight, in a hospital without a nursery, favoring "rooming in" (which, by the way, I totally *get* and, under normal conditions, would have been completely in favor of -- in my situation, though, I/we could have used a couple hours rest). And a baby who wasn't all that into sleeping - what, after having tried to break out of Fort Knox for the past 3 days, to no avail. She was probably (rightfully) pissed!
I won't go through every single detail now, but things progressed fairly badly. I was in pain and recovering, Andrea was flailing. It was HOT at the end of June and we had a LOT of visitors in the hospital, neither of us strong enough to beg for some privacy. And then...there were the breastfeeding issues.
Sofia was and is a *hungry* baby. And so, despite seemingly latching on properly (even my lactatian consultant said so, we went to her every Friday morning!), she destroyed me, literally - my doctor actually sent me to a plastic surgeon at one point to see if I needed fixing up. I got two consecutive cases of mastitis and dreaded, dreaded, dreaded feeding time.
After a month of all this pain and suffering, Andrea and I decided it would be best to start pumping. And so that started, and I continued (with, however, undo pressure put on myself, in hindsight) for 10 months -- regardless of where I was, what we had to do, time of day, my needs...pumping came first, for 10 full months. I would pump and, often, Andrea would feed Sofia. And feeding time became their bonding time.
There was a day back in the beginning where I realized at about 8pm at night that I hadn't put my glasses on all day, while I normally wear them at all hours. There were times when I would dread being alone with Sofia because I felt inept, incapable, afraid. Sometimes, Andrea will bring up something that went on those first few weeks and I recall nothing. Maybe it was the fever from the mastitis, maybe it was depression or simply me being all up in my head, trying to take it all in, from the inside-out. Whatever it was, Sofia and I got off to a rocky start. And so, even more reason to rejoice where we are now - as full of obstacles as the road has been, and continues to be (um, still not fully sleeping...), we've come a long way, baby!
Getting to know Sofia
Name: Sofia Esther
Nickname/s: Peanut, Princess Poopie, Poopie, Principessa, Sweet P(ea)
Age: 21 months, 4 days
Sign: Cancer
Favorite toy: Papa'! Also, my doll Kelly and her stroller, cooking utensils, my play house and kitchen, books
Favorite food: I'll eat almost anything, but pizza's pretty high on the list
Best personality trait: My brilliant sense of humor
Toughest personality trait: Hard-as-a-rock stubborn
Favorite book/s: Caps for Sale, Curious George and the Puppies, Goodnight Moon, Ho Caldo!, Clifford the Big Red Dog
Best friend/s: Papa'! At daycare, Vicki and Costanza
My favorite thing to do: Anything with Papa'! (are you catching the theme here?) I also really enjoy eating and exploring and watching youtube videos of horseback riding
Favorite piece of clothing: my black glow-in-the-dark demon onesie (I kid you not, people)
Favorite kind of music: I like music and love to boogie, and enjoy jazz especially
What I hate: Hands down, being told what to do.
What scares me: Sometimes when Papa' unexpectedly sneezes really loudly!
Shy or extroverted?: Extroverted
Nickname/s: Peanut, Princess Poopie, Poopie, Principessa, Sweet P(ea)
Age: 21 months, 4 days
Sign: Cancer
Favorite toy: Papa'! Also, my doll Kelly and her stroller, cooking utensils, my play house and kitchen, books
Favorite food: I'll eat almost anything, but pizza's pretty high on the list
Best personality trait: My brilliant sense of humor
Toughest personality trait: Hard-as-a-rock stubborn
Favorite book/s: Caps for Sale, Curious George and the Puppies, Goodnight Moon, Ho Caldo!, Clifford the Big Red Dog
Best friend/s: Papa'! At daycare, Vicki and Costanza
My favorite thing to do: Anything with Papa'! (are you catching the theme here?) I also really enjoy eating and exploring and watching youtube videos of horseback riding
Favorite piece of clothing: my black glow-in-the-dark demon onesie (I kid you not, people)
Favorite kind of music: I like music and love to boogie, and enjoy jazz especially
What I hate: Hands down, being told what to do.
What scares me: Sometimes when Papa' unexpectedly sneezes really loudly!
Shy or extroverted?: Extroverted
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Goings on
Here's a pic of the little one dressed up as a ladybug for her daycare Carnival party. Need I even bother saying how adorable she looked?
As I write this, Sofia is with Andrea's parents - Sunday mornings with her nonni have become tradition -- a win/win situation as Andrea and I manage to actually clean the house and have a leisurely breakfast alone. She's been very busy and, thankfully, is feeling much better (KNOCK. ON. WOOD....LOUDLY) and all of us being back in the normal swing of life makes things much easier on everyone. Who says it's only babies who need routine!?!
Some of Peanut's recent endeavors/news:
1. Talkin'!
She's not a huge talker yet...nah, scratch that, she would LIKE to be, but often she will say something that sounds like "anserrkffgdagggg" and Andrea and I will stare at each other, searching out one another's face for signs of recognition. Was it Italian? Was it English? Was it Swahili? She's got a decent vocab going, when we do manage to make the meaning out, though. Some new ones to add to her constants of Papa', Mamma (finally!), Up and Ciuccio (paci)...
Boots
Latte ("milk" in Italian -- not like a coffee "latte" - that would just be plain masochism!)
Questo ("this" in Italian)
This
Nanna ("sleep" in Italian baby talk --ohhh, the irony!)
Basta! ("Stop!" or "Enough!" in Italian...oh boy...!)
She's also started calling animals by their sounds. Dogs are "Bow!", Elephants are lifting-up-your-arm-like-a-trunk-and-yelling-"Eeeeyyyy", Horses are "eeehehehee" and Cats are "Bow!" (ok, so when in doubt, she uses "bow").
2. She understands more than we'd like her to
As I read in a parenting blog recently, one day your child will actually start to go to the door when you say "Go to the door" and you will think "Did he just understand me, or am I dreaming?" This now happens on a daily basis.
I hate to boast, but Sofia is a genius. Dangerously so. She knooooows what we're talking about, and she remembers things for incredibly long periods of time. And it's funny how the parental divide makes the difference in how people react to this fact: non-parents tell me how awesome it is, other parents shake their heads in a "ohhh you poor things!" pity-filled sort of way. Andrea and I, on the other hand, are sort of middle of the road between both camps.
3. Mi, Me, Mio, Mine...
Probably because the older kids at daycare are doing it, Sofia's started her "Miiiiiine!" stage. She doesn't do it with us, but when, for example, our neighbor brought her 18-month-old son over for a playdate, Sofia freaked the heck out at how he played with her toys. Hopefully this stage will pass soon - it's not very pretty.
4. Temper, temper!
Speaking of stages that aren't very pretty, I present you with: toddler tantrums! They are HORRIBLE. Truly frustrating. Like, they should take the title away from Mother Theresa because she never had her own kids and we don't know how she would have dealt with their temper tantrums, frustrating (did anyone just follow that sentence?).
Papa' and Mommy have different styles for dealing with these. Papa' is the kinder, more patient of Sofia's parents and so he tends to get down on her level and soothe her. "This actually works!" cries myself, surprised. It does not, however, enter into my own personal "Abilities Under Stress" category so, while I do try this solution once in a while (read: when I've just had a cup of coffee), often I say no and quickly explain why and then ignore her. Ok, that's a lie - usually it's more than once, as I desperately hope she will have a sudden maturity spurt and reply with a well-thought-out "You're right, Mommy, I don't really *need* to put the dirty soap in my mouth!"
Being as that hasn't happened yet, I generally revert to ignoring her.
5. Getting the joke
Sometimes I hear Sofia laughing from the other room, and when I go in, I realize that whatever it is that's making her laugh is in her own head. She's a funny one - one of my favorite things about Sofia is how she really does "get" the joke, always has. Comedic Peanut.
6. Sleep issues, con't
Of course, no post from me would be complete without sleep deprivation complaining (I'll admit it, when she finally does sleep, I'm not going to know what to talk about anymore). Still more problems. It seems to be Sleep 2 nights, Scream 1 night, Sleep 1 night, Scream 1 night, Sleep 3 nights, Scream 1 night. I guess I should just be thankful it's not Sleep 0 nights, Scream 9 nights. Doesn't matter, my body is (scarily) getting used to functioning on anxiety-sparked adrenaline.
So, on that note: Have a Restful Sunday!!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
This too shall pass. Right?
People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one. ~Leo J. Burke
I love my daughter, but between the hours of 3am and 6am for the past 10 days, she's become my worst enemy. Right now we're in the middle of a major (read: debilitating) sleep regression caused by a pretty painful case of separation anxiety.
Yes, I'm throwing around baby-themed psycho-babble (I tend to do that when I'm sleep deprived). What all this means is that we've had ten days of either around 2 hours of banshee screaming per night (to the joy of our wall-banging neighbors), or else she does manage to sleep but is ready to get up for the day at between 5:30 and 6am.
Not so ideal.
Our precious daughter is amazing at many things, but sleep is not one of them, as I assume you've been able to gather from this blog. I can't quite stress how tired I am of talking and obsessing about just how tired I am (So STOP, you say -- ha, if it were so easy. If I were to stop, I might implode from the desperation of it all).
Not sleeping makes you a crazy person: a caffeine addict who can't quite focus 100% on the day ahead of you (me) or literally starts falling asleep - like, deep sleep - at the dinner table, in the middle of a sentence (Andrea). Not sleeping makes you say mean things you don't mean to your partner, makes you happy as an upstream salmon to go to work in the morning to take a step away, makes you fear Friday as it means there will be no daycare to help with baby's naptime since she refuses on weekends. It makes you sad, out of control and, mainly, not really a very nice or very present person.
And so, here's my message to my Peanut, which I trust she will receive somehow (if I know my girl, she has her ways):
Dear Peanut,
We love you, but you're killin us.
Love,
Mommy and Papa'
p.s. if you don't start sleeping, we're going to have to take away your cookie priveleges.
I love my daughter, but between the hours of 3am and 6am for the past 10 days, she's become my worst enemy. Right now we're in the middle of a major (read: debilitating) sleep regression caused by a pretty painful case of separation anxiety.
Yes, I'm throwing around baby-themed psycho-babble (I tend to do that when I'm sleep deprived). What all this means is that we've had ten days of either around 2 hours of banshee screaming per night (to the joy of our wall-banging neighbors), or else she does manage to sleep but is ready to get up for the day at between 5:30 and 6am.
Not so ideal.
Our precious daughter is amazing at many things, but sleep is not one of them, as I assume you've been able to gather from this blog. I can't quite stress how tired I am of talking and obsessing about just how tired I am (So STOP, you say -- ha, if it were so easy. If I were to stop, I might implode from the desperation of it all).
Not sleeping makes you a crazy person: a caffeine addict who can't quite focus 100% on the day ahead of you (me) or literally starts falling asleep - like, deep sleep - at the dinner table, in the middle of a sentence (Andrea). Not sleeping makes you say mean things you don't mean to your partner, makes you happy as an upstream salmon to go to work in the morning to take a step away, makes you fear Friday as it means there will be no daycare to help with baby's naptime since she refuses on weekends. It makes you sad, out of control and, mainly, not really a very nice or very present person.
And so, here's my message to my Peanut, which I trust she will receive somehow (if I know my girl, she has her ways):
Dear Peanut,
We love you, but you're killin us.
Love,
Mommy and Papa'
p.s. if you don't start sleeping, we're going to have to take away your cookie priveleges.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Twenty-something
Our little girl is 20 months today! And I thought I'd do a couple top 10 lists of what I love most about Motherhood and what I miss most about pre-Motherhood!
WHAT I'D GIVE MY RIGHT ARM TO HAVE BACK:
10. Sunday mornings
9. Leisurely showers
8. An attention span
7. My pre-baby body
6. My clear, sharp pre-baby brain
5. Not feeling like a schlump all the time
4. Spontaneous date nights
3. Energy
2. Free time to do whatever I like with
1. (the most obvious, the most wanted) SLEEP
WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE UP FOR ALL THE SLEEP IN THE WORLD:
10. Saturday mornings
9. When she tilts her head as she figures out how things work
8. How she laughs at herself
7. When she runs to me when I pick her up at daycare
6. Watching her smile and wave at people
5. Seeing her play with her Papa'
4. Watching her learn new things
3. Seeing her sprout into a little person before my eyes
2. That giggle
1. Spontaneous snuggles
She'll be 2 before I know it, and then I'll surely start missing the sleepless nights and the infant girl I already hardly see anymore...ok, or maybe not... =)
WHAT I'D GIVE MY RIGHT ARM TO HAVE BACK:
10. Sunday mornings
9. Leisurely showers
8. An attention span
7. My pre-baby body
6. My clear, sharp pre-baby brain
5. Not feeling like a schlump all the time
4. Spontaneous date nights
3. Energy
2. Free time to do whatever I like with
1. (the most obvious, the most wanted) SLEEP
WHAT I WOULDN'T GIVE UP FOR ALL THE SLEEP IN THE WORLD:
10. Saturday mornings
9. When she tilts her head as she figures out how things work
8. How she laughs at herself
7. When she runs to me when I pick her up at daycare
6. Watching her smile and wave at people
5. Seeing her play with her Papa'
4. Watching her learn new things
3. Seeing her sprout into a little person before my eyes
2. That giggle
1. Spontaneous snuggles
She'll be 2 before I know it, and then I'll surely start missing the sleepless nights and the infant girl I already hardly see anymore...ok, or maybe not... =)
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Groovin'.
When I first found out I was having a little girl, a friend of mine enthusiastically assured me "You two are going to be the best of friends!"
I remember this remark well because I loved the sound of it. I couldn't wait. And now, I'm beginning to understand just what she meant.
Sofia and I giggle a lot. I know which pages of books are her favorite, I know just the way to say that line in the "Caps for Sale" book to make her laugh like a hyena. I recognize that tired look on her face and how to adjust to my "relaxing Mommy" voice to help her settle down. Sometimes, out of nowhere, she smiles a huge smile and grabs my hand to hold it.
It's sort of like a dance we're creating. I take a step, she follows, she takes a step, I follow. Sometimes I step on her feet, sometimes she's way off. Sometimes I lead, sometimes she. As banal as the words are to describe it, it's profound and it's under my skin, a feeling of closeness that's hard to believe I can have with someone so small, someone who's essentially just starting to develop.
As you've surely seen from my other posts, this Motherhood thing is kicking my butt for how hard it is. But this. This is the payoff. It wasn't immediate, like some parents say it is for them. It's taken us some time to get this dance going, to find our rhythm. But, in those moments when it works, it's pure paradise.
I remember this remark well because I loved the sound of it. I couldn't wait. And now, I'm beginning to understand just what she meant.
Sofia and I giggle a lot. I know which pages of books are her favorite, I know just the way to say that line in the "Caps for Sale" book to make her laugh like a hyena. I recognize that tired look on her face and how to adjust to my "relaxing Mommy" voice to help her settle down. Sometimes, out of nowhere, she smiles a huge smile and grabs my hand to hold it.
It's sort of like a dance we're creating. I take a step, she follows, she takes a step, I follow. Sometimes I step on her feet, sometimes she's way off. Sometimes I lead, sometimes she. As banal as the words are to describe it, it's profound and it's under my skin, a feeling of closeness that's hard to believe I can have with someone so small, someone who's essentially just starting to develop.
As you've surely seen from my other posts, this Motherhood thing is kicking my butt for how hard it is. But this. This is the payoff. It wasn't immediate, like some parents say it is for them. It's taken us some time to get this dance going, to find our rhythm. But, in those moments when it works, it's pure paradise.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sick, again.
Well, chalk one more up for new experiences in the Rossi/Krumholz household: broncopneumonia!
Sofia had 4 days straight with a medium-to-high fever, then came down with this form of pneumonia. Our ped put her on antibiotics and now, four days later (I think...I have lost count of days, hours and months of my life by now), she's doing just grand. Only problem is the three of us have been having just a weeeeee little bit too much quality time. Or, well, quantity time.
One of the (many, innumerable) things I wasn't prepared for in Mommydom was just how boring it can be sometimes. I guess I just never thought of it: was so prepared for the excitingness of it being new and scary that I never (ever) focused on the "down" times. Those times during the day (every single day) that Baby just wants you to sit there on the floor while she stares at her feet or draws on the table or (worse, much worse) expects to be entertained.
Because, well - and this may not come as a surprise to any of you - babies aren't really into the same things we are. They don't want to learn new recipes or play sudoku, they are disdained by the simple idea of folding clothes or even watching movies (who doesn't freakin like movies!!?). They don't know how to read yet and, even if they did, they certainly would scoff at the idea of doing so by themselves. They (or at least mine) hate shopping - sitting still while the attention goes to all those colorful clothes and not moi, are you kidding me!?
So, much of my life is spent trying to balance what Sofia enjoys with what I enjoy and - during our stint at home with Papà too, we've had to calculate him in there, too (this might be a good moment to add that, thanks to work being done on our building, we have also been without cable this week). So far, I've found some stuff: play-doh, reading books, coloring (when I don't have to take them away as punishment for coloring up our couch - so, basically, scratch that one).
Then, there's the times I have to get creative: "Sofia, why don't you go to your kitchen and make Mommy a nice cup of coffee!" (I get about a minute out of that one). And then there are the few moments (which are actually becoming more common, THANK THE GOOD LORD) when Sofia is perfectly content taking object A and putting it together with object B, then moving object B to sit near object C, then moving chair to place objects A, B and C on top of it, and so on.... These are sacred times in our household, because they mean Mommy and Papà can stare blankly at a wall for a few minutes, perhaps even (gasp) shut their eyes for a moment. Because, well, we're not actually allowed to leave the room or talk amongst ourselves during these times, but at least it's something.
Sofia had 4 days straight with a medium-to-high fever, then came down with this form of pneumonia. Our ped put her on antibiotics and now, four days later (I think...I have lost count of days, hours and months of my life by now), she's doing just grand. Only problem is the three of us have been having just a weeeeee little bit too much quality time. Or, well, quantity time.
One of the (many, innumerable) things I wasn't prepared for in Mommydom was just how boring it can be sometimes. I guess I just never thought of it: was so prepared for the excitingness of it being new and scary that I never (ever) focused on the "down" times. Those times during the day (every single day) that Baby just wants you to sit there on the floor while she stares at her feet or draws on the table or (worse, much worse) expects to be entertained.
Because, well - and this may not come as a surprise to any of you - babies aren't really into the same things we are. They don't want to learn new recipes or play sudoku, they are disdained by the simple idea of folding clothes or even watching movies (who doesn't freakin like movies!!?). They don't know how to read yet and, even if they did, they certainly would scoff at the idea of doing so by themselves. They (or at least mine) hate shopping - sitting still while the attention goes to all those colorful clothes and not moi, are you kidding me!?
So, much of my life is spent trying to balance what Sofia enjoys with what I enjoy and - during our stint at home with Papà too, we've had to calculate him in there, too (this might be a good moment to add that, thanks to work being done on our building, we have also been without cable this week). So far, I've found some stuff: play-doh, reading books, coloring (when I don't have to take them away as punishment for coloring up our couch - so, basically, scratch that one).
Then, there's the times I have to get creative: "Sofia, why don't you go to your kitchen and make Mommy a nice cup of coffee!" (I get about a minute out of that one). And then there are the few moments (which are actually becoming more common, THANK THE GOOD LORD) when Sofia is perfectly content taking object A and putting it together with object B, then moving object B to sit near object C, then moving chair to place objects A, B and C on top of it, and so on.... These are sacred times in our household, because they mean Mommy and Papà can stare blankly at a wall for a few minutes, perhaps even (gasp) shut their eyes for a moment. Because, well, we're not actually allowed to leave the room or talk amongst ourselves during these times, but at least it's something.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Girlie girl
Tonight at bath time, Sofia had the longest (and loudest) hissy fit because we took her ponytail out to wash her hair. Then, post-bath, we had to immmmmediately replace said ponytail, and she refused to take it out when I put her to bed (I am afraid what I'm going to have to unravel off the top of her head tomorrow morning).
When she gets dressed in the morning, she has to pick out her own shoes (she almost always chooses the totally impractical pink rain boots...but I'm choosing my battles here, folks). Out walking on our trip to Barcelona, we HAD to go in and buy her a pair of Crocs she saw from the store window outside (ok, we needed them for her swimming lessons anyway). Sit my girl in a shoe/handbag store and she will happily explore for hours.
My girl's turning into a real girlie girl - which is so weird, because I am so NOT a girlie girl. Not that I expect her every personality trait to have to "come from" someone - it's been perfectly clear she's got a mind of her own since the day she was born (before, actually). It's just fun and funny to watch and witness. I kind of love it, actually - not because I care if she's a girlie girl or a tomboy or any other kind of personality, I just want her to be her. But it's truly mesmerizing watching her grow up, start to say words and begin to show signs of humanhood, not just babyhood. I'm awestruck, and totally excited to go buy her a fun hair band tomorrow!
When she gets dressed in the morning, she has to pick out her own shoes (she almost always chooses the totally impractical pink rain boots...but I'm choosing my battles here, folks). Out walking on our trip to Barcelona, we HAD to go in and buy her a pair of Crocs she saw from the store window outside (ok, we needed them for her swimming lessons anyway). Sit my girl in a shoe/handbag store and she will happily explore for hours.
My girl's turning into a real girlie girl - which is so weird, because I am so NOT a girlie girl. Not that I expect her every personality trait to have to "come from" someone - it's been perfectly clear she's got a mind of her own since the day she was born (before, actually). It's just fun and funny to watch and witness. I kind of love it, actually - not because I care if she's a girlie girl or a tomboy or any other kind of personality, I just want her to be her. But it's truly mesmerizing watching her grow up, start to say words and begin to show signs of humanhood, not just babyhood. I'm awestruck, and totally excited to go buy her a fun hair band tomorrow!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
No Moan Zone
I do an awful lot of complaining. I've always been a complainer, but now that I'm a mom and have spent the past 2 years having to be flexible and accept any and all curve balls coming my way, it's gotten pretty bad. What's worse is the fact that I am married to another one of the world's greatest complainers (as well as an eternal pessimist - at least I dodged that personality trait).
All this means that, on any given day, you can hear a whole number of sighs and "I can't believe I have to xxxx" or "You're kidding me!" "Damn it!'s running from our mouths. Not something I'm particularly proud of, to be honest. Especially when I realize how truly lucky we ARE (which also happens on a daily basis, in my defense).
Our baby girl is happy, healthy and well-adjusted. We are both relatively healthy on the grand scale of Things-That-Could-Be-Wrong, have families that love us, the much-beloved roof over our heads and (good Italian) food on our tables. The things we Have are numerous and seemingly uncountable.
Which isn't to say people who have a lot aren't allowed to complain, of course. We have exhaustion and live in a country that knows no bureaucratic organization, we lack time and have our share of maladies and annoying people to deal with, we have to drive in Italian traffic and lots of times we don't seem to get what we want ("...sometimes, you get what you neeeeed"). We work hard and, most of the time, there are no hours in the day for recharging.
Anyway, all this leads me to a little challenge I've decided to put myself up to: one full day without any complaining. A No Moan Zone. Think I can manage it? Wanna join me? C'mon, I dare ya!
Results to follow....
All this means that, on any given day, you can hear a whole number of sighs and "I can't believe I have to xxxx" or "You're kidding me!" "Damn it!'s running from our mouths. Not something I'm particularly proud of, to be honest. Especially when I realize how truly lucky we ARE (which also happens on a daily basis, in my defense).
Our baby girl is happy, healthy and well-adjusted. We are both relatively healthy on the grand scale of Things-That-Could-Be-Wrong, have families that love us, the much-beloved roof over our heads and (good Italian) food on our tables. The things we Have are numerous and seemingly uncountable.
Which isn't to say people who have a lot aren't allowed to complain, of course. We have exhaustion and live in a country that knows no bureaucratic organization, we lack time and have our share of maladies and annoying people to deal with, we have to drive in Italian traffic and lots of times we don't seem to get what we want ("...sometimes, you get what you neeeeed"). We work hard and, most of the time, there are no hours in the day for recharging.
Anyway, all this leads me to a little challenge I've decided to put myself up to: one full day without any complaining. A No Moan Zone. Think I can manage it? Wanna join me? C'mon, I dare ya!
Results to follow....
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Restarting Project 365
So, I've finally decided to take a dive back in!
As some of you may know, I completed a Project 365 photo-a-day blog back a few years ago. Well, I've sort of been busy *snort* so I put continuing it on hold, but I feel like the time has come to start 'er back up again - and, as an added bonus, I even restyled 'er too!
So, have a look here http://jodisproject365.blogspot.com, sign up as a follower and you, my virtual friends, will have your chance at a peek into my life for, give or take, the next 365 days.
I know, I know, don't all thank me at once.
As some of you may know, I completed a Project 365 photo-a-day blog back a few years ago. Well, I've sort of been busy *snort* so I put continuing it on hold, but I feel like the time has come to start 'er back up again - and, as an added bonus, I even restyled 'er too!
So, have a look here http://jodisproject365.blogspot.com, sign up as a follower and you, my virtual friends, will have your chance at a peek into my life for, give or take, the next 365 days.
I know, I know, don't all thank me at once.
Monday, January 31, 2011
What kinda contract is this without any sick days!!?
For relatively healthy people like Andrea and I, one of the most frustrating parts of parenthood has been how often Sofia's gotten sick this winter. Starting from precisely January 2nd, one or more of the three of us has been sick, in a continuous cycle of mucous and visits to doctors that has our heads spinning.
Here's what they don't prepare you for:
1. Parents don't get sick days.
2. Not only will you have to continue parenting even while with 392 degree temperature and a migraine to rock the heart of all migraines, but this will be precisely the same time your own child will get sick (read: you can't even get rest while she's at daycare).
3. Not only will you have to continue parenting with a 392 degree temperature and a migraine, and your own child will be sick and (therefore) a total crankypants so you can't send her to daycare, your in-laws will come down with PNEUMONIA so you can't even have them come over to watch her while you try to rest.
So, the next time you hear a parent say "It's the hardest job in the world, but also the most rewarding," you will know that what they're *really* thinking is "This sucks!! I don't care if my kid turns into a vegetable - he/she's sitting in front of that tv all day or I'm going to jump out the nearest window (at least that way I can sleep)!!).
Of course, though, my own daughter hates tv.
Here's what they don't prepare you for:
1. Parents don't get sick days.
2. Not only will you have to continue parenting even while with 392 degree temperature and a migraine to rock the heart of all migraines, but this will be precisely the same time your own child will get sick (read: you can't even get rest while she's at daycare).
3. Not only will you have to continue parenting with a 392 degree temperature and a migraine, and your own child will be sick and (therefore) a total crankypants so you can't send her to daycare, your in-laws will come down with PNEUMONIA so you can't even have them come over to watch her while you try to rest.
So, the next time you hear a parent say "It's the hardest job in the world, but also the most rewarding," you will know that what they're *really* thinking is "This sucks!! I don't care if my kid turns into a vegetable - he/she's sitting in front of that tv all day or I'm going to jump out the nearest window (at least that way I can sleep)!!).
Of course, though, my own daughter hates tv.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Adventures in Rebellion
The other day, as Sofia moved on to her newest phase (climbing up on the furniture), I found myself uttering the words "Sofia, we don't stand on the couch." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was an idiot. The look I received from her can be likened to those eye close-ups in old Westerns at the beginning of a duel. I swear, if she were older and slightly better equipped, the next scene would have involved her blowing the tip of a smoky pistol.
Sofia likes to rebel. She has this hallmark devilish grin that simultaneously makes you want to hug her and scream. She's a tricky one, for sure. Whether we're talking about climbing on furniture or coloring the couch, touching the outlets or trying to open the knife drawer...our girl is cunning, and totally frustrating. I've tried many a tactic: time outs, calm explanations, ignoring her, the dreaded even-your-father-says-it's-not-ok. She's not having any of it, at least not yet.
The positive thing is that she's not hyper-sensitive, so while she kicks and screams like bloody murder, 3 seconds later she's already onto something else, cooking up her next plan of attack. She never stays mad for long, and she totally gets the joke: when we're in a good mood and the only response we have to such shananigans is to laugh like heck at how screwed we are, she laughs right back.
As she gets older, I'm sure I'll feel way more frustration at her rebellion - though, a part of me has hope that it will wear off as soon as she hits her teens (ha - denial, you say?). For now, though, except on those really awful days or when she puts herself in dire danger, underneath I kind of like it, I like that she's testing the waters and has a mind of her own. And in those moments, when I realize that I like it, I also realize who she probably got such chutzpah from.
Bring it on, little lady!
Sofia likes to rebel. She has this hallmark devilish grin that simultaneously makes you want to hug her and scream. She's a tricky one, for sure. Whether we're talking about climbing on furniture or coloring the couch, touching the outlets or trying to open the knife drawer...our girl is cunning, and totally frustrating. I've tried many a tactic: time outs, calm explanations, ignoring her, the dreaded even-your-father-says-it's-not-ok. She's not having any of it, at least not yet.
The positive thing is that she's not hyper-sensitive, so while she kicks and screams like bloody murder, 3 seconds later she's already onto something else, cooking up her next plan of attack. She never stays mad for long, and she totally gets the joke: when we're in a good mood and the only response we have to such shananigans is to laugh like heck at how screwed we are, she laughs right back.
As she gets older, I'm sure I'll feel way more frustration at her rebellion - though, a part of me has hope that it will wear off as soon as she hits her teens (ha - denial, you say?). For now, though, except on those really awful days or when she puts herself in dire danger, underneath I kind of like it, I like that she's testing the waters and has a mind of her own. And in those moments, when I realize that I like it, I also realize who she probably got such chutzpah from.
Bring it on, little lady!
Monday, January 10, 2011
Been a while..again...
Andrea and I are home sick today, so I thought I'd take a minute to update my long-ignored blog. I am also toying with the idea of re-starting my Project 365 photo blog, but that's another idea for another day. Not a flu day, for sure. Blech.
Sofia's growing and changing and flourishing. Her language has started slowly, but she understands EVERYTHING (eerily...) and is now starting to mimic. Less in English than in Italian, but I guess I'm her only easily accessible English speaker here, so I suppose it's normal. Some of her vocabulary:
Papa' (that's her one constant, in so many ways)
Pasta
Caduta ("fell" in Italian)
Up
Porta ("door")
A posto (an Italian concept meaning "in its place")
Ba (Banana I believe)
Ciuccio ("paci")
Piu' ("more")
More
mamamamamam (also for "paci")
She's got some more in there, too, and the list grows daily now. This part is a lot of fun!
Also a lot of fun is that fact that she's finally becoming a good sleeper, minus the times she's been sick and thrown off. She knows her routine and is comfortable with it and, while sometimes she whines for a few seconds before she nods off, she likes bedtime and her bed. THANK THE GOOD LORD. It means we're slowly, slowly, slowly, heading toward easier times, physically. That is, just as soon as we get over this flu..!
Happy 2011 everyone!
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