Italian vs American kids comparison - Bimbi italiani e bimbi americani a confronto

American kid eating cheerios	Italian kid eating pasta con il sugo

After spending a couple of weeks at playgrounds in Italy, I am back to Boston wondering what group of kids William will belong to when he gets older. See Italian versus American kid comparison below:

American kid: as a baby/toddler, you are swaddled, put to sleep in thin sleeping bags in fleece material and put to sleep on your back without blankets, to reduce the slightest chance of suffocation
Italian kid: from the day you leave the hospital you are put to bed on your stomach in your warm 100% cotton pigiamino (PJs) with a cotton sheet and a 100% virgin wool blanket keeping you warm. And mom will make sure that your blanket is tucked in!

American kid: they bounce you on all sorts of balls, swings, rocking chairs and put you in specific positions to help you fall asleep
Italian kid: they give you chamomile (grandma's secret tip) to help you fall asleep.

American kid: as a baby you spend most of your time with the other kids at the nursery and doing planned activities with your parents
Italian kid: as a baby you spend most of your time with your grandparents, wondering when your mother will come to pick you up!

American kid: you nap in the morning at 8 am, in the afternoon at 12 pm and you go to bed at 7 pm.
Italian kid: you nap in the morning until you wake up exhausted from the previous late night, doze off a little during the day, then stay up until you fall asleep, completed exhausted, at 11 pm-midnight!

American kid: you proudly feed yourself cheerios and exotic (better if organic) snacks all day long
Italian kid: you get started on food with hand made creams of mashed up veggies sprinkled with parmesan cheese followed by fresh grated fruits you mom spoon feeds you every day, at lunch and at dinner

American kid: you are gently asked with sign language if you want more or if you are done
Italian kid: firstly, you are told that you must eat the last boccone of pappa, otherwise you won't be given the fruit that comes after. Then, you are told that if you don't eat it, you'll jump out of the window!

American kid: you don't get to see a single person smoking next to you
Italian kid: you happily smoke alongside your caregivers

American kid: as a toddler, you continue to eat cheerios all day long. Later on, you will get peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on soft mushy white bread for lunch alternated with the usual turkey sandwich. In special occasions (at restaurant), you will be able to choose between mac and cheese, fried chicken, hotdogs and hamburgers, all rigorously served with fried chips. The only fish you'll ever taste will be in the fried fish sticks (who knows what fish is in it, says my friend David). And the American pediatrician, instead of pointing out that some fish out there has too much mercury will tell you "don't give fish to your kids. It has too much mercury!"
Italian kid: as a toddler, you rarely eat sandwiches but if you do, you get speck, bresaola and provolone cheese on crusty Italian bread and complain that your mom has not made porcini risotto for you on that specific day! Here is your weekly menu (I thank my Italian friend Elena for passing it to me): fish 2-3 times per week (common sense will make you choose small orate and sogliole instead of swordfish), minestrone twice a week, veggies at every meal (one cooked, one raw) and pasta for lunch! Meat (unfortunately), every other time.

American kid: you drink colorful juices in colorful huge (half a liter) high-tech BPA free thermo insulated and ecological bottles
Italian kid: you drink water from a small glass

American kid: you are told that Cappuccetto Rosso (Little Red Riding Hood) was not eaten by the wolf and that everything is safe and cool
Italian kid: you are told that if you don't behave, the babau (the bogeyman) will come to eat you and that nothing is safe outside your parents' house!

American kid: you move out when you are 18 with the full support of your parents.
Italian kid: you move out when you are 3 to stay with grandma, then back with your mom (and dad, if there is one) when you can go to full-time pre-school. You move out temporarily to stay with friends then back with your mom and dad. You move out for good when you are 38, having saved enough money for a house, and are two weeks away from getting married....unless there's room in the basement for the newlyweds.

American kid: when your mom visits you, she brings a cake, and you sip coffee and chat.
Italian kid: when your mom visits you, she brings 3 days worth of food, begins to tidy up, dust, do the laundry, and rearrange the furniture! Nota bene: this only applies to my mother's generation of moms

American kid: your dad always calls before he comes over to visit you, and it's usually on special occasions.
Italian kid: your dad can show up at any time, unannounced, on a Saturday morning at 8:00 and it's usually to do some cool last-minute activity with you, totally unexpected.

American kid: when you need to get something done, you either look for help on the internet and pay someone or, in most cases, you do it yourself
Italian kid: when you need to get something done, you call your dad and uncle, and ask for another dad's or uncle's phone number to get it done for free. Hey, know what I mean? ;)

American kid: you will come over for cake, and you will get A LOT of cake. But nothing else.
Italian kid: you will come over for cake, and will get antipasto with a choice of two cured meats, a pasta dish, a secondo con contorno, a choice of three types of cheese, salad, bread, a tiny bit of wine, a piece of crostata, fruit, espresso, and a few after dinner special treats.

American kid: you have not heard your parents cry
Italian kid: you cry along with your parents while trying to be even louder than them

American kid: you borrow stuff from your parents for a few days and then return it
Italian kid: you keep anything that you borrow from your parents. If you try to give anything back, they will insist that you keep it for a little longer!

American kid: you eat at the dinner table and leave
Italian kid: you will spend hours there, talking, laughing, and just being there, getting bored but showing excitement to be with the grown ups

American kid: you will stay in the queue to get on the bus
Italian kid: you will push and push and push, as much as you can, to get the best seats on the bus!

American kid: you are a kid for a while
Italian kid: you are a kid for life

American kid: you like to wear cool trainers
Italian kid: for you, even builders' uniforms are to be worshiped, as long as they carry an original (or pseudo-original - e.g Lumberjack) American brand!

American kid: you think that being Italian is cool
Italian kid: you are not cool if you don't speak English and know a few things about what is not Italian

American kid: you don't care about differences, you have been trained to not even see them to avoid being labeled racist. So you don't question them, nor write about them
Italian kid: you worry, hear and talk a lot about differences and try to be open to them, often concerned about coming across as a citizen of the world

Not all kids of course will go to these extremes. I was thinking about these stereotypical differences in Le Cinque Terre, while I was looking at some kids diving from high rocks and then swimming into high waves. Then again, in the Turinese playgrounds, while I was looking at a bunch of 3 year old daredevils jumping up and down on a seesaw, occasionally diving onto the ground to scare the babies on the seats. Were those the unsafe kids of irresponsible Italian parents or just simply kids with their need for fun and freedom, as a modern Italian parent might put it? Here is my current dilemma: (1) would William turn into a different kid if he was raised in Italy? (2) would I have to turn into a different mother if I was raising William in Italy? Given my hyper conservative upbringing (sono una mamma all'antica), I can only think that the super safe American parenting style fits me perfectly, with one condition though. That I can change the rules, whenever the Italian kid inside me says so. As my husband often says "take the best out of both worlds and have a lot of fun as a parent!"

The birth of the Kruse family house - La nascita della casa dei Kruse

You might wonder why there is a blank space below. Well, this is because our life has been and it still is pretty much on hold. Being involved in packing, unpacking, living in construction zones, being a full-time mom and reshaping a brand new house (from deciding where to put the bathroom towels to finding a solution for storing all pasta and rice containers in one place, the list does not end). This means that you have no time for anything else. Having said that, please go past the blank space below (which, to be honest, I have not been able to delete despite my 5 years experience in web development!) and enjoy the historical pictures below, featuring the birth of the Kruse family house.
There will soon be more pictures here showing the birth of our new house. We first need to make this happen. Enrica, John and William

The kitchen:
	da cosi'- from this
	a cosi' - to this
	a cosi'! - to this! (I will post the latest picture of the kitchen when available)
The master bedroom:
	da cosi' - from this
	a cosi' - to this (I will post the latest picture of our master bedroom when available)
We saw a similar transformation in the second bedroom and in the living room. Latest pictures will be posted soon.
William's bedroom:
	da cosi'- from this
	a cosi'- to this
Meanwhile...
	William was having fun in the yard with his water table
	he was also going to the beach with his Italian friends
	he was having fun opening
	and closing the wooden doors of his new house
	he was starring at dad working, at mamma taking photos
	and at the new features of the house (in this case, he was looking at the secret passage leading to the attic)
	he was happy!
	On August 13th John and I celebrated with a bottle of Passito wine that my father bottled on the day I was born with my name printed on the label!

August 2010: Moving to Arlington - Agosto 2010: Il traslocco per il trasferimento ad Arlington

Goodbye Medford and Somerville - Addio Medford e Somerville

Today is "una giornata di fuoco", "a hot fire day" like my mom would say. John is still working in the new house (he still has to get the kitchen cabinets handles in place, he has to sort out the sink and the pumbing, he has to check that all appliances are working, he has to finish the French doors and put them into place, he has to clear the rooms from all the construction tools (yesterday I felt as if I was in a "cantiere" when I set foot in the living room of our new house!) so that the cleaner can come to get the apartment ready for us to move in, OMG, the list does not end!). I am in the old house, still struggling with my never ending packing. Last night I was feeling like a zombie, moving from one box to another in the endless search for empty space and to leave the first year of our life as a family behind us.

While packing, I had a year of beautiful pictures surfing through my mind, the latter ones below.

William at his favorite park with his friend Abi

William enjoying the pool with his friend Lydia

We really had a great time living in Medford and Somerville. Yes, you read correctly: Medford and Somerville. Yes because when we were watching TV, we were in Medford. When we were cooking, we were in Somerville! Our address was officially Medford but some of the bills were sent to our address in Somerville. Beside this address thing, I feel as we sort of lived in between two worlds for real: in between the colorful, ethnic, unpredictable and sometimes rough Medford and the trendy, urban, spoiled, studenty and sometimes snob Somerville.

Here is where the slide show starts: me arriving at the house with a fat belly and slowly going up the stairs of the front porch, while trying to learn how to distinguish between the dangerous and the innocent ice. Then my explorations of the stores in the Davis Square area. All urban and in good taste. Then the image of me on one of the local buses, seating next to a weirdo (i.e the one who would not stop saying that the blue color of the information boards in the street were about to change into green, meaning that we were no longer in Boston but in Somerville). Next to him, a nicely dressed professional working on his Mac, and me chatting in Italian with a friendly babysitter who was answering back in Spanish. The topic: how to survive through the winter with a small baby.

Then the bike path surprise John came up with while I was in London. The pleasant evening bike path walks from the Davis Square T stop to our house, while looking at the stars in the dark blue sky and while listening to the crickets.

Then getting the apartment into shape for our first guests coming to see us from London: Kirsty and Ian, so happy to find not only a couch for sitting but also books on our bookshelves and a kettle for making tea in our kitchen!

Then the slow but insightful discovery of Somerville, Medford and Boston, all easily assessable from our privileged rented apartment. This started feeling more like a luxury to me that it could ever feel before after living for a year in the middle of the American suburb, asking myself the same question over and over again: where do Americans walk to/meet? Yes because in America living at a walking distance from public transports and from a downtown center with little stores is an unknown concept. Finally, in our rented apartment I was able to enjoy walking to everything. Here comes a bunch of nice memories. The fun of trying new restaurants, new food - Ethiopian ended up to be my favorite discovery. My delicious lunches at the Danish pastry house, with a simple caprese sandwich. The filthy Italian deli stores with smelly cheeses I am sure I will miss, my favourite Italian non alcoholic Sampellegrino sodas and the breadcrumb that tastes of bread and not of garlic! The Middle East venue I heard of before coming to Boston reminded me so much of the venues I was spending my Friday and Saturday nights at in London. I was able to go to see the 4th of July fireworks and to even come home by subway with my pregnant belly without problems. Then what? The glasses of wine and cheerful chats with Anna at Il Pescatore restaurant to take breaks from the relentless job of looking after a baby. The therapeutic walks in the Tufts park to also show baby William how beautiful nature can be when surrounded by a dramatic urban landscape. Walks in the University campus to remember the good old days of when I was a student. Well, that image would always quickly change into a grown up William confidently walking towards the library building of the campus in his American college sweatshirt and the keys of his car in his hands. The fun of going to all these places, without having to travel for hours to get home!

What else? True Grounds? Did I forget him? My faithful coffee shop was in Somerville off-course, the only one foot steps from our house which, no matter how early in the morning or late in the evening, no matter how hot or cold outside, I could always reach in 2 minutes from our house. To quickly forget a day of screams with a creamy cappuccino or with the occasional ice latte. There, I could read a novel, write a posting of my blog or simply star at the mixed crowd of students, professional writers and artists, spending their whole day working and I could easily forget the view of dirty diapers. Then my Italian baby class at the nearby middle east food restaurant, thanks to my knowledge of middle east cuisine, which got the owner impressed. They now serve the yogurt drink I mentioned to them!

And finally the best picture of the whole slide show: the walk to Davis Square for the spicy Tibetan meal which would help my boy break the waters. I remember the colorful details of the houses I was looking at, the cars stopping in front of my fat belly, the colors and shapes of the strollers I was bumping into (mostly Bobs and Phil and Teds). The brief trip to the launderette to take a one second piss, wondering if I already got my waters broken, while I was still enjoying the after taste of my Dalai Lama. My waters did break after all, short after that, in the Medford part of our house, just when I was preparing to go to bed.

Then the return home with baby William from Mass General hospital and William's first year, including when he started eating his first "piatto di pasta al sugo" in our Somerville kitchen and when, few days ago, he started crawling in the Medford side of the house, off-course. Finally, our sweet kitty Cokie - I unfortunately stopped giving her the attention she deserved * - and my dear American friends visiting me at home to help me get through the difficult days. I cannot think of any of them in a different house.

So now there should be enough images here for you to imagine how sad I feel about leaving the old house. The other images of the slideshow are in the previous postings. So I will stop here to say this:

Goodbye Medford and Somerville! - Addio Medford e Somerville! You have played a really important part in my life! - Hai avuto un ruolo molto importante nella mia vita! Sigh

* Perhaps that is why Cokie has left us on the day of the move :-(

The lizard - La lucertola. Yes he is! William is officially crawling! - Finalmente! William gattona per davvero!

William is officially crawling. Yes he is! Absolutely! It is called "combat crawling" or, according to my husband, the expert in commando techniques, it is also called "low crawling or commando crawling". There he is: my boy, in the entry way of our apartment, creeping towards our master bedroom! Is he William? Today, all of a sudden, I see a brand new William: yes, William, the boy who used to play for a long time in the same seated position with a couple of blocks and cups next to him and who would suddenly freak out after failing to reach the more attractive block further away from him, is now a mini soldier who is trying to sneak into (and perhaps demolish with joy) all of my stuff! Great.

Can you imagine living a life without being able to move and then suddenly be able to go everywhere and explore everything? It must be like an epiphany after months of boring seating, dependency on mom for a change of scene, and painful exercises with the same boring view of the floor, for a baby to suddenly realize that it is possible to go to see (and get) everything that is around!

Today for the first time William put himself onto his hands and knees and pushed his bottom up three or four times. I cannot describe my excitement when I saw that. The neighbors who live in the unit above ours probably can. He then used his core muscles to push forward and move around the room. I was starring at my little lizard, completely shocked and proud. Because of that, I was not able to film his first crawling attempt but only later explorations of the house. I will never forget the way he looked at me and giggled all excited, just after pushing himself forward, while he was removing the baby books from the book shelves, the ones that I was offering to a friend in that precise instant. Few seconds ago he was pushing himself into the laundry basket and "plop"! (Italian sound) Now the floor mats and all the towels that were in the basket are on his head! Luckily, he is ok.

What an exciting day. But this also means that the days of William playing by himself, while I am doing the cooking, the laundry and a bit of blogging, are now over. How about the move to the new house in less than a week? That's right, just as we've started to pack for the move to the new house in less than a week, William has started to move as well. Isn't this a bit ironic?

Before I go to bed to start picturing in my mind how life is soon going to change for us, below is a video of one of the happiest moments of William's first year of life (or at least that's how I see it):



Next step are hands and knees crawling. Yay William!

Virtue stands in the middle - Est modus in rebus

Baby super swaddled	William under cosy blanket

Virtue stands in the middle. I must have tried to explain this simple concept to at least 10 surprised people in the last 2 weeks! Is this such a difficult concept for Americans to grasp? Or perhaps it is my reaction to the moms I bump into in Massachusetts (the so called Massachusetts parenting groups) but I end up talking about this with almost everyone I meet these days: friends, neighbor, tourists visiting, even the pediatrician!! It has become my favourite topic of conversation: In medio stats virtus, said Aristotele. Or, as the Latins counterparts (and my father) used to say, est modus in rebus. But how can I explain this to a Massachusetts mom?

Being a mom in Massachusetts: ever feel alone in how you perceive this role? I swear I feel like I’m surrounded by women who are still trying to be smart and interesting but who have helplessly become zombies who can only talk about what special yogurt coated kids food their baby will take and what wooden toy or baby class will get their child to Harvard!

I am a stay at home mom with dreams for a career I temporarily abandoned when I decided to have a child, don’t feel I am super smart or more interesting than others, just a mom with Italian background, trying to be a no-frills mom in the States. I don’t talk about organic snacks in pomegranate flavor (I wouldn't even eat that myself!) - my baby boy happily eats the food that I eat (e.g pasta al sugo), but just feel too tired to hear joy joy no fun educated moms acting as scientists, while, at the same time, basing their decisions on extremes, always looking for the perfect choice.

The first example that comes to my mind is sleep, the parents' sleep discussion. Some sort of philosophical symposium on how to get a baby to sleep. Every mom who lives in the Boston area, sooner or later will have to hear and contribute to this. It was especially bad in the beginning, when I would constantly hear a mom saying, "Oh, so-and-so sleeps for twelve hours and naps for three," and I’d think, "Oh, shit, I screwed up the sleep training!".

To give you an idea of what I mean, here is the conversation between two moms: the American one and the Italian one. They meet at a coffee shop. Here is how it goes.

First, they talk about sleep.

American mom:
"She was crying a lot. We swaddled her, super swaddled her, but she would still fight sleep. So we came up with a sleep plan, a modified version of the Ferber one. You should try. I have been doing this for 3 months and it does work. At 7 pm, I put her to bed, with the exact same routine (i.e rubbing of feet, gentle massage, PJs and story time). I use the same book and tell her the same story, every evening. I started by letting her cry for 5 minutes, then for 15 minutes instead of 20, then for 30 minutes instead of 45, then for 45. For the first three days, I stayed in the same room with her to make sure she felt safe and that she felt it was ok to fall asleep. Now she will occasionally wake up but that's ok"

Italian mom:
"Is there anyone out there still swaddling babies? That is what the Romans used to do! My daughter did have trouble falling asleep early on but not for long. Grandma, grandpa, my brother and I were all cuddling her, singing and rocking her. She now goes to sleep at around 11 pm and she sleeps through the night until 7. Occasionally she wakes up during the night - but I give her chamomile and she goes back to sleep. Otherwise, she sleeps so well on her tummy!"

Then the conversation goes on food.

American mom:
She is feeding her baby cheerios and slices of onions from her sandwich. She hears another baby crying and she goes "what's wrong with him? Does he need a snack??" (hard judgmental look)

Italian mom:
"No thanks, I don't give kiddie snacks to my baby. They are not very healthy and would ruin the lunch that I prepared for him this morning" (annoyed look)

American mom:
"Naaa, these days, it seems if we parents feed our children anything but whole grain bread, brown rice and veggies from our backyard gardens we're in danger of hearing from child welfare authorities! Now they are even banning the mac donald toys. What are they gonna ban next?? "

Italian mom:
"Well, I am Italian. I wasn't brought up here. I am someone who eats everything, I have no problems of digestion, not even with spicy food, but" - God, will I offend her if I say this? No, go on, say it! - "if I go to mac donald, the flavor of the hamburger comes back to me for one or two days. It is pretty disgusting. But what can you expect when the food is fried in the same oil, used and reused many times on the same day?" - Oh good, she won't be offended after saying this - "and don't you find mac donald expensive? I calculated that if I buy the ingredients, all fresh, and do it myself, it costs me half the amount!"

The conversation goes then onto computers and high-tech baby stuff

American mom:
"Well, if it was up to me, I would ban all the TVs, computers and webcams from our house! I have heard that the toys with batteries are dangerous. Children can swallow the batteries and die! Have you heard of that child who died? We only have a couple of toys with batteries at home, right Nora? These are the talking dog Whurf and the drum Bang Bang. I wonder if I should take them away from her..." (terrorized expression in her face)

Italian mom:
She is giving her daughter a little laptop to play with. Then she goes "Only because something happened to a child in an accident whose circumstances are not clear, that doesn't mean that it will happen to my child. I wonder how that child could have swallowed the battery. Where was the mother? To be honest, in our house we probably have more toys with batteries than any others. We live in a world which is more and more high-tech and computer driven every day. Our children need to get used to this stuff. I put that laptop in Serena's crib every day and her grandmother from Italy wakes her up in the morning. She is so happy when she sees her!"

So, what do you think? Am I the Italian mom above? Not really but I am not the other moms either. I see many exaggerations in the way most moms I come across deal with their children: for example, they give their babies a snack on every freaking toy they are using; they take the babies to up to 6 organized play activities per week; they proudly advertise the fact that they own 20 different types of wooden puzzles coming from Europe; the list continues. I freely admit that I am not neutral when it comes to resisting the attraction of doing the right thing for my child or purchasing the cutest baby hat with special UV protection and anti-bacterial properties. At the same time, once I take something like that home, I cannot help realizing that, once again, I have added one more thing to my collection of useless "Extra Cautious Super Safe Massachusetts Moms and Baby Vanity" accessories!

A less pressured and contradictory culture that values good rather than perfect kids, and that treat the kids like adults and not like a special race, would certainly make all of these moms (myself included) happier. I am thinking of my parents, who never read a single book on sleep training, yet they remember that after days of normal baby crying, at some point, I learned to sleep. I am also thinking of my husband's parents who told us to make sure that the child will base his life on our life and not the other way round. When I watch American moms dealing with their children (the other day I came across a mom who was giving chocolate milk to her boy because she said he doesn't take plain milk!), I feel that the exact opposite is happening to the moms around me. It sometimes look as if the children have become the bosses and their mothers the employees taking orders!

As a matter of fact, in the old days (my grandparents' generation), children were viewed as economic assets to their parents. If you had a farm, they helped you to maintain its upkeep. If you had a family business, the kids helped in the store and later on would take over the store. But all of this dramatically changed. The kids of wealthy people nowadays are more and more viewed as a protected, privileged race with aspirations, talents and wishes to be sculpted, stimulated, instructed and groomed (as sociologist Viviana Zelizer puts it: “economically worthless but emotionally priceless”).

Here in Massachusetts, I often see moms making a big effort to go to great details to explain books that the children in front of them are not even looking. I also notice the incredible efforts these moms make to talk to their children, answering questions with questions (e.g mom asking toddler in coffee shop which picture was the tallest and which one was the largest), and treating each child’s thought as a special contribution to the world. I sometimes find it fascinating how much effort they put into everything they do or say to their children. I know moms who spend all their time trying to arrange the most refined activities, playmates and meeting places for their babies (e.g. if I bring my boy to the Brookline library bookclub, there he will mix with the right kiddie crowd!). It seems as if these parents constantly feel that if they don't do this and that, they put their child at risk by not giving him every advantage.

There are better and worse ways to discipline a child. But I feel it is a mistake to compare yourself to others and to constantly conclude that you’re doing the wrong thing. Yet that’s precisely what all these extremist and conformist moms do!

I know it is much easier to exaggerate on one side or on the other than to make the more reasonable choice in the middle but, if there is one thing I would like my American boy to learn one day, this is it:



I can now take William to enjoy Sprouts, his only weekly organized activity. For now. ;-)

My first birthday - il mio primo compleanno

Isn't this supposed to be my blog? So this post, I am going to write it myself. Let me think, my first birthday started at around 7 am. I got dad out of bed to change my diaper. Dad sang me a strange song , while getting my cereal ready. I couldn't understand what the fuss was all about. He doesn't usually get excited. Then mommy rushed into the kitchen to come to sing the same tune. The words were different but the tune was the same. Then cereal followed. It certainly had more fruit than usual. Aha. Mom and dad were excited about everything, even about changing my clothes! Then dad went to work and mommy took me in front of the magic box. She never does! There, grandma and grandpa were waving at me, while singing "happy bir-ba-ba-ba", the same tune mom and dad were singing to me in kitchen. They also were more excited to see me than ever. I don't know what this was all about.

Then mommy's friends came to the house. They brought me a toy to play with. The strange thing is that it had a lot of paper around it, which I had to unwrap. Then we went out to eat. I ate something new which didn't smell good at first but that, once I got the taste of it, was not bad. They kept calling it "fisha", I think. I must have eaten a lot of that "fisha", while people were starring at me. Then a huge colorful thing arrived on the table. It had a strange flickering light on top. They were all waiting for me to do something. They kept saying "blow blow soffia soffia". This is what I don't really get. As soon as I tried to grab it to put it in my mouth, they took it away from me!





After that, I met Alex, one of my buddies. He also gave me a toy difficult to unwrap. 15 minutes later, we were splashing in the water - so much fun! Alex (or maybe his mom, I can't remember) was singing that same "bir-ba-ba" tune that everyone has been singing to me all day long. Don't ask me why.



Such a weird but fun day. I was expecting everything to go back to normal the day after but it didn't. The singing of the "happy ba-ba" tune continued. Mom and dad kept acting as if I was a different baby. Mommy was busy preparing stuff. Not sure what she was up to. Then, yesterday, I had dinner with all of my friends. Our table was full of balloons and cool stuff. There was a cute fun girl I met few times sitting next to me and stealing my toys. And everyone was looking at me. Nice people. Then, another big colorful thing, like the one that came at lunch the other day, came. Mommy called it "totta" or "checche", something like that. Once again they put that flickering light on top. They wanted me to do something with it. Don't know what. I got frustrated. When I finally got to taste it, ba-ba-ba-ba'! It was the softest, sweetest and most delicious bite I ever had to take. Hope there will be some of this for dinner tonight.





When I got home, mom and dad gave me a lot of new toys but once again, they all needed unwrapping. It was so much fun to play with the paper but, as it usually happens, mommy took it away. Despite that, there was still a lot of stuff to play with but sadly, right when I was starting to get excited, they put me to bed.

For more details on all this, I highly recommend that you watch mom's video below. Aha aha aha! I mean... so cool, she didn't miss a thing!

William

William is turning one and all this has happened - William sta per compiere un anno ed e' successo tutto questo

So much has been happening in William's life in the last two, three, perhaps four days. I have kept telling myself that I should just stop and update the blog. But as usual, just after I promised to myself (in the shower) that I should write all about it, I wait for the magic moment of William's nap and when that finally comes, an old friend I never talk to calls me on the phone. Then, someone I know comes to knock on my door, the washing machine finishes running, which means I need to start the dryer and lunchtime is getting close. I need to start preparing something to eat, which also means the food I prepare should cover the needs of three people for a day or two (it never does :) ). William's toys are all crazily spread out in the living room and I just cannot help taking them all one by one, organize them according to my scheme and put them back inside the right boxes, leaving on the floor the only toy I can bear to look at. I hope it will make William happy on his tummy for 20 minutes or so. Then, as always, someone I emailed needs an urgent clarification from me, William has an appointment, I have an appointment, or a major decision is required on something that in the past I would have considered not important, but that I now view as vital (e.g., how can I live without the best set of pans for our kitchen?). Then the packing for the move to our new house (still in construction) - see? I knew I was going to forget something. I have to call the movers to confirm the day - and the latest most important event in our family, coming in two days: il primo compleanno di William!

With two houses not childproofed and with packing boxes half filled and pieces of furniture all over the place in house 1 and dust everywhere and a camping chair as the only thing to sit on in house 2, the option of inviting our families from Italy and from Wyoming and other babies to either house wasn't appealing. John wanted to do something intimate with the three of us, while I was thinking of arranging an outdoor playdate of some sort with other babies. We settled on a small dinner party with 3 babies William is often playing with and a couple of close friends. I could not find a restaurant with play area that would take reservations so I decided to arrange a swimming playdate and a marine Summershack party, the perfect theme for a true Bostonian. Tour de force to find a pirate ship table center piece, hats with whales and a couple of other decorations in marine theme. Then the right cake. Not the traditional Italian chocolate tartufo cake or the tart fruit I grew up with but a traditional American soft cream cheesecake with strawberries dipped into chocolate a baby cannot resist to. I should say cakes, the first one offered by William's nonno, the second one offered by William's tata, Pina, who cannot be persuaded not to bake a cake for William's first birthday.

I am now thinking that William is turning one in two days, only two small days, and he will no longer be that tiny "how many months is he?" baby I had yesterday but an inquisitive toddler who will be faster than me at figuring things out and at doing things. Blame it on his coming first birthday but I have started to get frightened. I have realized that William is changing every day in front of my eyes but that, at the same time, I cannot keep up with these changes. Not only I cannot remember when they first happen but, once they happen, I cannot even remember how different William was before these changes happened!

So here I am, frantically trying to remember and to describe in detail the changes he has gone through before they vanish from my memory. I remember thinking how exciting it was when William turned three months. That tiny baby with the alert expression but who was taking hours to drink a little amount of milk, all of a sudden, was smiling at us and was eating like a champ! And his skinny legs became a trophy to show the lactation consultants in Boston. In his fifth month the little man proved that he could fall asleep without crying and could eat something other than milk. It took another two months, and the secret of Parmesan cheese, for him to abandon his disgusted face and open his mouth wide at the sight of mashed peas. Next came sitting, clapping and the hours of careful examination of everything on which he lays his stubby fingers. He then started learning about mobility, and the world that it opens up (latest: using the computer keyboard!).

But what changed in William in the last few days? First, he started saying more sounds, perhaps words: from mamma, papa' and da-da to ta ta, nanna and gatta! Ans his babbling has become more meaningful. When he says "Brrrrr" I think he means "I am playing", when he says "aglie' aglie' aglie'", I think he means "I am really excited", when he says "Da-da, da-da", I am nearly sure he means "I am talking, I am a happy baby". Unfortunately when he says "mamma", it is not always easy to understand what he means. At times, especially few months ago, most of the time he was saying "mamma" with an angry or annoyed tone of voice. That was not happening with da-da. So it was easy to jump to the conclusion that he was saying "mamma" meaning "go to hell". I then moved to the interpretation that when he says the angry "mamma" he is asking for help and this usually happens when he is frustrated. More recently, William has started saying a sweet version of "mamma", which I interpret as some sort of "thanks, I am ok mommy".

William has also started to imitate us, luckily only the good things: the clapping, nodding of the head, dancing and the sounds we make to him. In particular, he has mastered the production of the cheeky sounds "aha', aha', aha' " I often make to him, meaning "oh, oh, I've got you!" - Now, when William says "aha', aha, aha', aha, aha'", I think he means: "see what I have done? I have figured this out!" So, in the last few days he said: (1) "aha', aha', I managed to open and shut one of the two draws in your living room", (2) "aha', aha', I managed to switch off the music of your stereo!, (3) "aha', aha', I switched on the music, I did it!, (4) "aha', aha', I figured out how to open and shut the cabinet where you hide my toys!, (5) "aha', aha', I just removed the tape that you put around the box for your house move, (6), "aha', aha', I opened the Velcro strap on the beach shoes you just bought me, (7), "aha', aha', I disconnected your laptop!

He has also started to use his gestures to convey his wants. He always shakes his head when he is done with his meal. When he doesn't like it, he still takes a little like a good boy, but with an expression of disgust. He then shakes his head to refuse more.

As a one year old William is: smart (furbo), moooolto furbo - I will stick to Italian for this paragraph because it comes better to me - William e' dolce e mammone. Curioso, biricchino e pacioccone. Sorride incantato alla vista degli altri mettendosi tutti, cosi' facendo, dalla sua parte. Fa finta di piangere per attirare l'attenzione. E ci riesce bene. Una faccia tosta, quando ci sono io ad osservarlo non ha voglia di gattonare, ne' di allungare le braccia per afferrare qualcosa, preferisce dire "mammaaa, mammaa" (con tono frustrato), in attesa che io mi sciolga e lo prenda in braccio. Quando gli metto in mano i gessetti per fare un disegno se li ciuccia e poi li getta via. Quando non lo guardo, si muove, rotolando e girando come un elicottero in cerca di un malvivente, va da un lato all'altro della stanza e con i gessetti, trasforma il tappetto del salotto in un opera d'arte!

In the last month or so he has changed from the quiet seated baby to rolling everywhere and pivoting in a circle (like a weather vane) on his tummy. He has figured that by doing that he can better explore the corners of the room. He can play with cables, with the remote control, with mommy's cell phone and with unpleasant things (even a dirty diaper which happened to have fallen behind the trash can!). It is incredible. I used to leave him in one position on the floor and would always find him in that same position. Then, two weeks ago, the magic: after placing him in the center of the living room area I would find him 10 minutes later playing with one leg of the table in the dining area of the room. And, each time, I would ask myself if I was really sure William was not there when I left him. Could it be that I am getting old and I forget this sort of things?

Finally yesterday, the latest big milestone. I had gone through extensive repetitive fingerfood trials using the ubiquitous organic Puffs (called Cheerios by the mom's to pretend they are still down to earth), colorful veggies, exotic fruit, etc. I was getting used to the idea that William will always depend on me when it comes to putting food in his mouth, when two small pieces of "parma cotto" landed on his tray and he snapped them up! William grabbed the pieces and stuffed them both in his mouth, with both hands ready for more.



The same magic happened with tiny slices of English farmhouse cheddar that I put on his tray. I tried with other food but it did not work. My little man is not only a talker, a comedian and a mover but he is also a true "buongustaio" (the other food was not to his standard)

What does motherhood means to me - Che cosa significa essere mamma per me

I am not quite at the stage of the mom in the movie Motherhood (you can watch the trailer here) - inspired by A.Pearsons' novel, who tells the story of Kate Reddy, a mother who goes through many disadventures in her attempt of trying to juggle work and life. - but I am sharing some of the experiences. My husband John picked this movie to watch with me because the plot reminded him of what he thinks I am going through .Perhaps.

One year and a half ago I was a full-time researcher developing a vision-based lie detector in a top College for Engineering in London. I was working 13-14 hours per day, sometimes even in the middle of the night, and my meals were either at my desk with one hand typing and the other picking salt and vinegar crisps or in one of those Asian fast food restaurants (Hong Kong style), eating Singapore noodles in front of the same engineering paper I was trying to make sense of. I was soo convinced that if only I could have worked out the secret small steps used to build the system described in the impressive particle filter paper from Oxford geniuses Black and Isard, and if only I could have worked out the recipe for forcing people to answer questions under stress, my life could have sorted itself out.

All of a sudden I could say goodbye to my small apartment with filthy flatmates in Kensington, I could say goodbye to the unhealthy meals I was eating and to the bosses taking advantage of my patience. I could travel the world to share it with other researchers. I could start my own behavior analysis center at the University and could even write a book about the lies I was coming across in my subjects!

Two things I had not, maybe purposefully, calculated: (1) the time it would take me to study maths, engineering and physics during the course of a PhD, being a graphic designer major! (2) that there is not a large demand for a lie detection scientist in behavior analysis - how many behavior analysts do you know? (3) that there is more to life than spending 13 hours in front a computer screen! As my father once told me on the phone while I was still in the lab at 11:30 pm, "there are more important things in life, for instance seeing your own child run on the beach next to you".

At that time, when I was not in front of a computer, nor I was trying to figure out creative ways to force people to lie - I had the stage magic and cold reading phase - I was enjoying chatting about this and that (the weirdest, the better) with my British friends. This pretty much summarizes my life a couple of years ago.

Before that, I was either enjoying adult students' life in Oxford, which means I was getting pissed on a weekly basis with a bunch of Oxford technical and mathematical minded people or I was using London as a travel hub to go to experience life in other countries (for not longer than a week though, with the exception of India, where I lived for a month, so that I could always get back and land a safe computer job which could pay the rent in London).

Going further back in my life, there I was, at the Jemey's bar, offering champagne to Jennifer Aniston and to handsome French footballer David Ginola (seen naked in the Agency one hour before) to celebrate the latest "because I am worth it" ad. Then I was having a fight with the two-faced, junior account exec the Agency had trained for one year, who was supposed to assist me. She was like my opposite: I have dark brown hair, she was a bleach blonde, my eyes dark brown, hers crystal blue . She was 100% English. I was 100% Italian. This is how our first meeting went. We both were at Jemey's, drinking champagne with our bosses.

Junior Account Ex: "Hi, are you the new Account Manager on L'Oreal?"
Junior Account Manager (Me): "Hi, yes, it's me. Nice to meet you."
Junior Account Ex: "All [pause] riiight. Are you [pause] Italian?" [huge fake smile]
Junior Account Manager (Me): "Yes..." [surprised tone]
Junior Account Ex: "I seee! [evil eyes meaning "bitch!"] Well, I really hope it's going to work out for you. If I was you, I wouldn't even try. Good luck really! I really hope it will work out for you! [fake smile followed by evil eyes]
Account Manager (Me): "Good luck to you!" [ she had already left]

The day after, the war was officially declared between the two of us. Instead of being my assistant, she was throwing my work into the trash bin under the desk when I was not in the office! And she was replying to emails I was supposed to reply to. What is worse, my English at the time was still poor and I was struggling to understand what a bunch of advertising executives were asking me to do in Paris! Luckily, a secretary, who late became a dear friend of mine, helped me understand this and a lot more. She made me understand that my account exec was sleeping around to get favors and that my bosses did not like me because I wasn't seducing my clients in the Agency lift and because I wasn't making use of the company's cocaine supplied by the Head of Account Management. They were also disappointed because when they hired me they thought I was the kind of Italian slut wearing high heals and tons of makeup (the "velina" type - you can google this to get a full description of the type of woman they thought I was). Instead, they ended up with the Italian catholic conservative type they couldn't quite use as a show girl!

I could go further back in my life to tell you what was like to live in the scariest neighborhood in London to be able to produce and deliver giant bars of Kit Kat chocolate bars which I was sending with my CV printed at the back to the top advertising agencies in the city. But I will stop here: by now you should get the idea of my lifestyle before moving to the US. I was deeply concerned (1) about the possibility of being tagged "bloody foreigner" because of my strong Italian accent, (2) about finding a creative - meaning intellectually challenging - job that I could enjoy (3) about "having a good time after work" and spend not longer than an hour awake per day at home. What happened 2 years ago to radically change all this?

Well, a tall American, a man from Wyoming, who does not call himself a cowboy but who thinks and acts with the cowboy mentality, the man of my life, made his appearance. How could I possibly convince a man like this used to the open spaces, to the comfort of driving everywhere and to the pleasure of purchasing items which have been discounted 10 times (the norm in the US), how could I possibly convince this man to squeeze into a luxury 500 square feet tiny apartment in west London, close to Harvey Nichols with dinner on the couch and one bedroom only occupying a third of the average American bedroom?

For this and other reasons (mainly back related - this would deserve a post on its own) I moved to the US, got pregnant and, on a hot day in July, a beautiful baby boy with cute hazel almond shaped eyes came to greet me. All of a sudden, I was this happy but completely puzzled mom, survived from the pain of giving birth but still trying to recover. And, right at that time I was also the one who had to take care of a tiny and needy brand new human being.

At that point, all of a sudden, I had to establish myself in a new role: to look after, to nurture and to raise a child. A child? Since I was a teenager my mother had been telling me constantly that I could do anything in life except for being a mother. She would go on about my inability to deal with practical matters. She would then say this: "You?? I want to see you as a mother, with a child who needs a schedule! You, a mother? You'll be forgetting your child in the supermarket, or you'll leave the poor creature roast in the car under the hot sun! Poor child in your hands!" The conversation would end with me saying to her "what? children? che dici mamma? That will never happen to me!".

But William came, with his hunger, his thirst, his need to be changed, to be washed, to be loved. And I learned all this:

(1) that there are parents who are not sleeping at night and who live their life with big circles around their eyes

(2) that there are parents who are getting to the end of the day without having a shower

(3) that diapers and wipes are never enough, no matter if you get them in giant boxes at Costco (wholesale store for US families).

(4) that I should never leave the house with baby William without a pacifier

(5) that a baby gets excited when he sees things that are not meant to be given to him (i.e remote control, cell phone, wrapping paper, but also nails, screws, bits of electrical cable, bits of paint fallen on the floor after hanging pictures, etc). The alternative is to hide some of this toys and to present them back to him once he has forgotten all about them

(6) that adding meat to his lunch doesn't make you all scared of changing his diaper, although, I must admit, the poop smells a lot more. Because of that, having learned the pre-smell of poop, I have also learned to close my nose when I open the diaper.

(7) that losing my Elisabeth Arden sunglasses doesn't really matter as long as the baby is safe

(8) that I should eat, have a shower or go to the toilet whenever he is napping

(9) that I can accidentally pour baby milk on a winter coat worth $600 without feeling bothered

(1o) that I have to change my baby if the milk accidentally gets onto his clothes, otherwise I feel I am a horrible mother

(11) that my happiness depends (1) on having had a shower (2) on having nicely fed my little guy (3) on having gone out of the house at least once during the day

(12) I have learned that opening a diaper is always a surprise: the poop can be on its way!

(13) I have learned that when I give him a bath as soon as I start washing him in warm water, a rainbow of pee can color the side wall, if I am not careful.

(14) I have been able to ignore at least 4 of my basic needs in my frantic attempt to satisfy one of his needs

(15) I learned that breastfeeding is more an art than a science and that people's advice is child specific. Same for parenting.

(16) I realized that I have no problems using the baby wipes (which are sold for cleaning the baby's bottom), when nothing else is available, for cleaning the baby's mouth, for cleaning my mouth, for cleaning the stroller, my purse or whatever from the latest drink spilled

(17) I learned that one + one baby make 2 happy babies

(18) that I could teach Italian once a week (as my only intellectual stimulation as fulfilling as a PhD) simply to be able to dedicate the rest of my time to my baby. Even if that means hearing the word "gelato" and "cappuccino" in every freaking sentence the students make!

(19) that being a mother is a relentless job - no matter what happens, you cannot call sick or take a break from it. When the baby is with a caregiver for example, you worry that the he might not be drinking enough water or that he might not be happy to eat the food you prepared for him. You cannot stop being a mother!

(20) I learned that, despite years of efforts in learning and in sounding English to impress the audience of the Brits, what really matters to me is not only to preserve my mother tongue but, above all, to teach my mother tongue to my baby, along with my roots and what the Bel Paese is all about (i.e. not the country of the Guidos and of the red sauce!)

(21) Finally, I learned that the smile of a baby can transform even the most bitter thing in your heart into the sweetest one

His eyes that were looking at me, while I was painfully giving him breastmilk, always gave me the strength to continue, until the pain, at some point, went completely away. A miracle.

And I learned that the little heart of a baby, not that much bigger than a walnut, becomes one thing with yours, from the very first moment, from the first instant, and from that moment it never leaves you.

Oops, I heard you little man. You have just woken up! Not that I was able to write all this during the time-slot of a nap. This posting has probably taken 10 naps! But it's all right now, like my old English friends would say. You should go out and have a good time! "What? Diapers need changing and food needs preparing", says a little voice inside me.

Thanks William for having taught me all this.

*You* are funny! - Sei molto divertente!

What a fun day William. I was so happy with you at the pool today! So cool to see you enjoy the water and splash splash splash, making everybody around wet and having fun being splashed. We made loads of friends today, although I am not sure whether they truly loved us after all that splashing. A Spanish boy kept swimming towards us with the clear intent of playing with you. He would come as close to you as he could and he would then begin to stare at you, he would stretch his arms towards you as to take you with him, and then he would look at me asking for my approval.

Later, when we were both getting dried, you were exploding in cute cheeky laughs and I couldn't help laughing too. I felt so happy to have you with me. Then, when we went home, I gave you a bath and you were showering me like in the pool. At that point when I started telling you that that was not good, you started laughing laughing and laughing louder and louder, with your shiny alert eyes. Then again, short after I put you to bed, your cute high pitched laughs came back. I went to check what was going on in the crib. Your blankets, sheet and pillows where all around you in a kind of Picasso's composition and you were laughing your little butt off again.



It is not the first time that you make me laugh so much. I think there is a funny/ridiculous side in you that, blame it on your genes or on your dad teaching you bad habits, is growing, every day. Last week I was in a shoe store. An older eccentric, but elegant lady right out of a Jane Austen novel stopped to say hello to you and kept chatting with you - I was thinking, aha, the same old reason: "he is cute!". She then said that she was enjoying talking to you because you are funny. She explained that she used to have a large temp agency business and that she was good at spotting people's personalities from the first encounter. She was convinced that you will become a comedian! Well, that day you must have successfully entertained her for at least 20 minutes. Tu sei un vero latin lover!

No interest in rolling over - Non ha alcun interesse a rotolarsi

My daughter is almost 8 months and hasn't really shown any interest in rolling back to front. She rolled (or gravity took her?) from front to back starting around 3
or 4 months. But despite lots of back time (playmat, back to sleep, strategically placed toys out of reach) she doesn't seem to have much interest in rolling over. She'll make it over to her side and then seemingly give up. (Her lower arm gets in the way?) We've let her be to see if she'll make the turn on her own, and also given her some verbal encouragement. No luck.
Sometimes, she'll rotate around or scoot 180 degrees on her back to get what she could have gotten just by rolling over.
I know "they" say that rolling over isn't a milestone, but I'm a little worried. Have other moms gone through this? I'm trying not to be bothered by the "all her friends are doing it" paranoia... :)
As a side note - she is sitting up unassisted and has been for some time.
Thanks for your insight!
Mom 1

This happened to us with my son who is now 23 months. He was sitting and not rolling and we thought he would be fine, so we did not press the issue. At 12 months, he was not even close to walking, so our pediatrician put us in Early Intervention. I am really glad we did that because the rolling was crucial to him building the core strength he needed to finally walk. I am not sure why he was not rolling, but it was one of the building blocks he was really missing and once he started rolling with her guidance, the rest came quickly. Not sure if that is your situation or not, but we were very grateful for the help.
Mom 2

My son was a chunk and probably rolled over twice by 8 months. Once he got sort of crawling (backwards) he decided that rolling was useful to get into a new position and started to use it. If she is sitting then I would not worry developmentally, rolling is just not her thing.
Mom 3

Well, my daughter was the same way, and she's fine now at 25 months. She sat early but just never got in to rolling over - or crawling, for that matter. She stuck with the butt-scootch. I think that her abnominal muscles remained a little weak until somewhat recently, but she was cruising before 12 months and walking independently a few months later, and now she runs, rolls all around, climbs on everything.. .
Mom 4

My baby will be 9 months tomorrow, is crawling all around, and rolled from back to front for the first time last week (twice, in one day, and not once since then). He rolls front to back maybe once a month. He's my third baby and I remember my first was absolutely determined to roll and figured it out early, but this guy just doesn't care to and I'm not the least bit worried. They are all different, and I think you'd see deficits in other areas if there was any reason to be concerned.
Mom 5

I understand your anxiety but I really don't think you have anything to worry about. Sounds like your daughter is totally normal. My son (12 months) had a similar issue in that he started rolling from front to back around 4 months but never got the hang of rolling from back to front. His arm would get in the way and also he didn't really like bonking his head on the floor which would inevitably happen on the few occasions when he would manage to flip all the way over. He's a year old now and achieved all his milestones right on target or even a little early. I think the main concern is that the baby is mobile at all, not that they achieve some goal by a certain age. In fact, some babies never roll over or crawl at all! The fact that your daughter is sitting up, scooting around and maneuvering herself into the position she wants seems to suggest she's doing really well. Maybe she just likes doing things her way and not "by the book!"
Mom 6

Hi - I have a slightly different take than some of the other respondents to your question. My daughter also did not roll, but sat, played, interacted, and later, walked on time. Someone suggested that I get an evaluation by the Early Intervention people, and it was *terrific*. They explained that while everyone hits milestones at different times, and rolling might not be "her thing", it can be a sign of lower muscle tone and that specific exercises (I know, it sounds crazy for an infant) can help. They showed me how to encourage her by placing toys just so, and play specific games that built core strength. It was free, high quality, in my home on my schedule and was very educational for me in many ways.
hope this helps!
Mom 7

Hey - I am so relieved to read your comments. My baby boy, William Mario, will be a year old next Friday. Only recently he has shown interest in rolling (in the last three weeks). Before that, he was happy sitting and playing with the toys close to him. I changed play mat at least 5 times, then put him to play on the rough rogue which we have in our living room. He would prefer to lye down on the rogue than to try to reach for the toys that were not close to him. I tried all sorts of tummy time toys, from mirrors, including one with sea animals attached to it playing a music each time the boy was touching it to different types of pillows, including an inflatable one with rattle balls, books opened in front of him, a special wooden toy with letters a physical therapist suggested that I use, balls of all colors and textures, wooden blocks, even my cellphone, the remote control and my shoes! - my boy wanted to play with them so badly! -, now we have even started a music class which is supposed to encourage gross motor skills in babies - yet, a week from his first birthday, my boy has not shown interest in crawling. He can stand up but not for long and with help.



William standing up all by himself (for few minutes) in the yard of his new house

I am now thinking that I should just be happy with his recent "rolling exploits" and stop looking for toys, tools, exercises, classes, ideas from other moms. Perhaps all I should do is play with my boy the way he likes playing and enjoy every moment of it. Surely, when he decides it's the right time, he will stand up and I don't expect that he will start walking right after that. He will probably only start making tiny baby steps. And I will no longer worry about what should come next.

William's Mom

Father's Day: 20 June 2010 - Il Giorno del Papa': 20 Giugno 2010

Enrica made this great video for me.

Enrica ha fatto questo bellissimo video per me. :) John

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbmVeoRdQYQ

Overheard at the mall - Succede sempre allo Shopping Center

I was feeding William at the mall while Enrica bought us a couple of sandwiches. Some high school girls at the next table were mesmerized by Tronk. One of them giggled and said, "I want to be a teen mom!"

Stavo dando da mangiare a William allo Shopping Center mentre Enrica ci ha comprato due panini. Delle ragazzine del liceo al tavolo dopo sono rimaste incantate alla vista di Tronk. Una di loro sorrideva tutta super carica di emozioni e diceva "Voglio essere una ragazza madre!"

John

Pa-pa-pa-pa, Nanna-na-na-na, Dam-dam-da, Ta-ta-ta, Gat-ta. Does he speak Italian already? - Parla gia' italiano?

William has had a lot more to say recently. He no longer just says Mamma-ma-ma-ma. Also, Da-da da-da, Pa-pa-pa-pa, Ehem, ehem, ehem, Nanna-na-na-na, Nonna, Dam-dam-dam. And ahai, ahai, ahai. Followed by uei, uei, uei, hee, hee, ueio, ueio, rrrrr, ruuuu, ruuuu, yeahh, rueii-ei-ei, yeahi, yeahi etc, sounds which has he has been making a lot, with a happy, cheerful, annoyed and sometimes angry tone, in the car and while playing by himself. It has been a delight to listen to him, always wondering what these sounds actually mean to him. As a true Italian putting meanings to things that don't have any, I can't help telling the world that all this means a huge amount!

It means that William has started speaking. And, si, si, si, si! his first words are in Italian, off-course! At 10 months and a half he can already say 5 words! "Mamma, Papa', Nanna, Nonna and Dammi". Isn't this amazing? Even if what I actually hear is often something like "mamma-ma, pa-pa-pa, gnalla, nogna and dam", I know he means "Mamma, Papa', Nanna, Nonna and Dammi"! and I cannot be happier. My son speaks Italian already. Then the American mom in me comes out and says "come on, stop it. It is not all meaningful. The words I hear coming out of William's mouth are just sounds that he has probably managed to put together as a result of imitating the sounds he has heard from us. So, no illusions. William has no clue of what he is saying!". "yes but how about when he makes a sound and then shake his head as to reinforce his disapproval on what I have just said? and how about when he goes on and on in a conversational tone as if he was presenting a lecture to a large audience of people? and how about when he burst into laugh when I say something he thinks is funny and smiles just after I say something to comfort him? Take yesterday for example. In the middle of the afternoon a huge rain storm came. The wind was so strong, it smashed trees and other things I heard break and fall in my neighborhood. William all of a sudden burst into tears frightened. As soon as after I said to him "va tutto bene amore, va tutto bene amore" he stopped. I swear that as soon after that he started saying "mamma-ma-ma, mamma, mamma, mamma" with a cheerful tone as to say "Grazie mamma. I feel much better" even before I picked him up. I know he meant that. I just know. William is calling me now. I'll better go to try to understand what he needs. My interpretation, off-course.

4 days before his first birthday:
He said Tata. Maybe he like his tata Pina. And as soon after I miaowed at the cat. he said gat-ta. Bravo William!

I WILL SOON POST A VIDEO OF HIS MEANINGFUL CHATTING HERE

What is this blog for? - A cosa serve questo blog?

William is becoming 10 months old this coming Sunday. Only two months before his first birthday! Hard to believe I have been his mother and John has been his father for all this time. With us as a family, this blog has grown fast. How did this all start and where is it going? The other day I read an article about the recent moms blogging phenomena. The article was saying that blogging seems to have become the favorite past-time of the moms, after shopping for clothes, going to get beauty treatments and drinking coffee. In the article there was also a mention to the moms being paid for talking about baby products in their blogs. I went to look at some of these blogs: mostly stories about super moms dreaming of publishing the next bestseller while talking about poop and poop and poop. Fair enough, but what about the babies? Do we get an idea of what is happening in the life of the babies from reading these blogs? Not really. From reading some of the postings, you do get an idea of what is happening in the moms' life though. Are the babies excuses for the moms to write and glamorize their no longer glamorous life? Perhaps. While I was reading one of the blogs mentioned in the article, I saw pictures of very expensive designers clothes, baby gears, toys and kids snacks like Kinder cioccolato (not the kind of food you would expect to see in the recommendations of a mom). One of the moms was even talking about her "secret pleasure of sucking a chupa chupa" lollipop after nursing her son. There was a very attractive shot of the product next to it!

So what is my reason for maintaining this blog? How about if I also end up increasing the market shares of Starbucks by repeatedly mentioning my visits to their coffee shops in my postings to take William out of the house and to keep the blog up-to-date? How about William's tommy time I keep talking about and the toys I keep buying for him, which I have probably shown in the blog more than once? How is my blog any different than all these other moms' blogs out there?

Let's see. This blog started when I first felt I had a baby inside my tommy (the day Dr. Vassilikis said that I was pregnant). On that day, all of a sudden, I felt the need to record everything. Every moment of his life. And when I first heard his heart beating, I felt the need to see him and to give him the ability to speak. Ho sentito il bisogno di visualizzare le sue azioni, i suoi desideri, le sue sensazioni, le sue emozioni. E di ascoltare la sua voce, le sue parole, i suoi pensieri. Sorry for suddenly switching into Italian. I sometimes feel that it is in our roots and upbringing (our parents' roots), it is in our mother tongue that we can sometimes understand our habits, our likes, our thoughts, ourselves. So perhaps here it is. The reason I started this blog was because I needed a place for me to tell William who I am, who he is and perhaps, one day, to help him understand who he will be. For this reason, in some cases, I switch from English to Italian.

Like now, for example...

Parte della nostra identita' e' l'identita' del luogo in cui viviamo, disse nel lontano 1997 la mia cara amica di liceo Laura Lettini nella sua tesi di dottorato in psicologica. In quell'anno, io mi trovavo a Londra, alla ricerca di nuove esperienze. Anch'io, come tanti italiani, mi trovavo alla ricerca di una nuova identita'. Anch'io evitavo gli zainetti Invicta ed i luoghi comuni, come ad esempio, il bisogno della marca o delle "cose alternative" e cercavo qualche cosa in piu'. In Inghilterra (a Londra ed a Oxford in particolare), non solo ho potuto continuare a fare l'adolescente, ma sono anche riuscita ad eliminare i sensi di colpa connessi con l'essere adolescente e con il non prendere responsabilita'. Questo da un lato ha rafforzato la mia pigrizia, dall'altro mi ha incoraggiata a fare cose con un po' d'incoscienza che, quando vivevo in Italia, probabilmente, non avrei mai fatto. Per esempio, a provare a fare la Senior Account Manager nella piu' grande agenzia pubblicitaria del mondo (la McCan Erickson a Londra) senza aver mai messo piede in un'agenzia di pubblicita' a servizio completo prima di allora, neanche in Italia. Ho avuto il coraggio di distribuire all'ingresso di un'altra famosa agenzia Londinese barre di cioccolato con il mio nome. Ho avuto il coraggio di inviare una spogliarellista che lavorava in un club notturno di Londra ad un dirigente della Leo Burnett per farmi assumere dalla loro agenzia. Studiando la sera, mi sono diplomata con un master in scienza a Londra. Prima di questa esperienza avevo soltanto studiato per un diploma in grafica pubblicitaria. Non per una laurea vera e propria. Senza avere una base ne' in ingegneria, ne' in infomatica, ne' in matematica, sempre studiando la sera, mi sono messa a fare un dottorato di ricerca in bioingegneria. Ho poi lasciato questo per sposare tuo papa', per andare a vivere con lui negli Stati Uniti e per occuparmi di te. Ed ora che sono lontana dall'Italia e che ho questa strana identita' italo-anglo-americana, se cosi' la posso definire, mi sento un po' piu' obiettiva, un po' piu' aperta di vedute, un po' piu' flessibile, in certe cose un po' piu' forte, in altre un po' piu' fragile. Allo stesso tempo, mi sento anche piu' italiana di quanto mi sia mai sentita da quando ho lasciato l'Italia. Ho una voglia matta di mangiare la pasta con il sugo, di andare al bar a prendere l'espresso la mattina presto, di sentire le canzoni melanconiche dei cantautori italiani, di essere coccolata e di coccolare, di immergermi nei libri di Calvino e di Pavese, di andare a fare una passeggiata la domenica mattina con le inferriate dei negozi giu' e di sentire la campana della chiesa della Crocetta vicino a casa far din don. Mi manca l'Italia.

Back in English...

So yes, this blog is not about poop and baby gears. It is about the story of my son William Mario, but also and above all about my daily need to communicate with him and with the people who love him, to cry, to laugh, to share, to relate and to be close to him.

Made with boiled water only? How about the fluoride? - Fatto con acqua bollente? Cosa? Senza fluoro?

The average American mom must go through an average of 200 (just a guess - it might be more) worrying thoughts and related bits of reassurance , per day. Take the teething problem for instance. I have not met a single mom who has not worried about giving their child toys that can ease the pain of the teeth growing and bothering their babies. If in the old days children were encouraged to deal with the pain of new teeth attacking their soft gums all by themselves as a way to learn and become strong, nowadays children are given "pacifiers purpose" rubbery toys of all shapes, colours, textures and sounds to put in their mouth and chew to make them feel better. These colorful evil things are hanging on the handles of strollers, car seats, they clutter people's cars and houses. You see them each time you meet a baby. I once heard a mom, whose's son was not sleeping through the night, say that she was considering buying the 20 dollars giraffe teething toy that mostly all moms I have met end up submit themselves to in order to avoid feeling the guilt that their children were going through more pain that they should have gone through!

I don't want to get too much into the food topic because that deserves a posting on its own but I will add some questions that are stuck in my mind from hearing them so often. "OMG, are you giving your daughter finger food at 8 months? Are you not scared that she is going to choke? What finger food are you giving your kid? Organic, right? Does that special cup from Fisher Price works? Cool, I am going to buy it!". As an Italian I grew up in a country where children are given pasta con il pomodoro straight from their plate in the first few months of their life (at 4 months). Despite children are kept either at home or bundled up to protect them from getting colds, in Italy being a good parent also simply means not leaving the kids unattended, at home or in the car for example. So I can't help finding the American super cautious moms' thoughts overwhelming. What do I do when William gets older and goes to kindergarten? Am I supposed to become that kind of mom too? Last week the super cautious better mom's behavior reached its highest point. First, a bunch of frightening emails on the bacteria present in the tap water, which were threatening the life of us and of our children, reached my inbox. My husband drove me all the way to Sloughton to get hold of bacteria free water. We ended up going home with nearly 300 bottles of water of 8 ounces each because the other bottles were gone. Did we really need to buy all those bottles to get through the two days of 5 or 10% of unsure water we could have been drinking before the 100% safe lawsuits proof Bostonian water would reach our houses again? At least we had some extra water, just in case, the temperature would suddenly rise up in the next couple of days, or just in case the baby would suddenly decide to eat more solids and to be more thirsty. But in this latter case, "would you give your child bottled water with no fluoride destroying his teeth?" were wondering a bunch of worried moms in one of the moms list I belong to. Here comes the question that has bothered me for a while now: "should I worry to worry less or to worry more?"