funny things the boys are saying now...

In Italian:

"Devo gomitare!" in lieu of "Devo vomitare" (Sebastian & Lucas)

"Che buono questa cadrega!" (Lucas)

"Papaaaaa, voglio una Ferraaaaarrriiii" (Sebastian, in his long whiny voice)

"Uffffffaa" (Sebastian, in replacement of the F-word which he just stopped using!?!?!)

"Mommy, if you say the f-word, I'm going to call the policeman." (Lucas, after hearing me curse on the phone with a friend)

Using "why" instead of "because". Example: "Lucas, why did daddy pick you up from the pool today?" Answer: "Why when I big, I gonna be a fireman!"

They make me laugh at least a few times a day.

the dark side

I did it. Yes. I did the unthinkable. The blasphemous. The biggest no-no in current parenting theory. I forced the boys to eat their porridge.

By forcing I mean they sat at the kitchen table all morning, I took away all their toys, I put them on time-out, I even spanked Sebastian. Then, I served Sebastian the same porridge for lunch. Yup. I admit it. I committed the very worst crime in the eternal food control battles with a pre-schoolers. I knew as my anger escalated that it was a losing battle. That a parent never wins. That legions of traumatized adults with food issues trace the source of their woes to that infamous meal, day, week, where their parents did not let them leave the table until they ate all their disgusting meal.

Alas, once again, I am humbled by the gargantuan task of parenting with patience, reason, love, nurturing, and wherewithal. I humbly ask the greater universe for forgiveness: for the cruelty I subjected Sebastian to yesterday, for the judgment I have dished out to all other parents, ever, for the merciless criticism of my own mother who blamed her outbursts on my crazy-driving-antics of childhood.

silver lining?

Hubby's brother has been married to a royal b**ch for the past 10 years. I won't even get into the details of why she is one. Suffice to say that I've seen her three times since moving here: once when I first arrived, once at my wedding, once at her son's baptism, then at father-in-law's funeral. Never again. Who the heck knows what she has against us...

Anyway, she sent a letter to my bro-in-law requesting a divorce. Out of the blue. Demanding he leave, give her money, and see his son only every 2 weeks. It's going to be messy, unfortunately, and their sweet son (who I've only seen 3 times as well!), is in the middle.

Bro-in-law is lucky to have her out of his life, but I am so sorry that he is at risk of losing his son and the house that he built with such love and dedication. The silver lining, however, is that MAYBE, we will be able to see Yannic now, since she can't control what bro-in-law does when he has their son. He can come visit and our kids can play more! Cousins! Family! Yeah!!

Crossing my fingers the war ends without too many casualties...

firemen help Santa Claus

Yesterday I had one of those precious mother/wife moments that I will never forget. Pride, love, sweetness, adoration, laughter...

Hubby was working at the fire station, and the asilo teachers asked him if he could stage a Santa-saving episode for the kids. At first we was annoyed, but he agreed. The kids had no idea what was in store. They were told that Santa Claus was coming to visit them at school. They walked out of the asilo, and saw that Santa was stuck on the roof! He couldn't get down the chimney! So Sonia, Sebastian's teacher suggested they call the firemen. Meanwhile, Tiziano and his crew were waiting down the street. When Sonia called them, the firetrucks put the sirens on and came racing down the street. Oh my god, you should have seen how excited the kids were, I cannot even begin to describe Lucas's excitement. He could barely move his face, he was in such rapture. I have actually never seen him this "emozionato"! He was happy, yet surprised, excited, but frozen with disbelief, Santa, firemen, the new firetruck, and his daddy all in one episode... It was the most beautiful moment I have experienced as a mother and wife so far. Every time I think of it, even now, I tear up. Sebastian was happy in a typical child way, smiling, happy, laughing, but Lucas was beside himself.

I brought mother-in-law with me to see it, and she too was touched and moved.

What a beautiful, beautiful day.

Italian doctors

So I call and call and call this doctor who is supposed to be an awesome pediatric allergologist (for Lucas's allergies).

No answer ever.

Then I send an sms. (already, you must be thinking WTF? an sms to a doctor???) I get an answer saying, "If you want, I can see him on Monday at 10am." I sms saying that's not a good time, if she has any other time. Silence. I sms again questioning whether she had a chance to look at her agenda. Silence. Hubby tells me that she must have been offended that I didn't bow down and be ever so grateful that she tried to squeeze me in, bla, bla, f**king bla.

WTF????? First of all, she's private, and she doesn't have a friggin secretary. Second of all, I have to send her a goddamn text message. Third of all, if I don't immediately rearrange all my life around her random appointment, then she ignores me? WTF?? WTF?? What is wrong with this goddamn country, this goddamn system? With people in general??? With Italians in particular????

So, because she is apparently so difficult to get a hold of, I am going to have to rearrange my whole f***king life to see her, pay her too much, under the table. If she prescribes f***king antihistamines/cortisone or tells me it's f**king dust or tomatoes, I swear, I am going to explode.

ARGH!!!!!! I am HATING this country right now!!!

Italian marriages?

I just can't stand Italian marriages. Italian couples. Italian marriage dynamics. It's such b*llsh*t. I am considered lucky. And apparently my hubby makes an effort compared to most Italian men, even to his father. But wtf, why can't men and women have normal conversations? Why the stereotype of female moodiness and nagging, when it's the men who are grumpier when tired, who don't want to talk about anything when they get home from work, who bust chops about how well the house is kept or not. My hubby is considered one of the better ones, but holy f*** do I get frustrated when finally I've put the kids to bed, and can sit on the couch with hubby, can talk without interruptions, can spend some *quality* time, that hubby goes mute. First computer and windsurfing BS. Then the TV goes on. And I can't even talk during commercials! WTF???? WTF????? Every goddamn evening. What kind of f**king marriage is this? And I am one of the lucky ones? We are two adults, we share the same bed, we live together, our lives are completely intertwined, and we can't have a f**king conversation.

I'm sick of this. And I am one of the lucky ones. F***.

daddy is bigger, daddy is stronger

Wowza.

Tonight, Sebastian called to me to say that his coloring book at school was ripped. I told him I would look at it tomorrow. Lucas said, "Mommy can't fix things. Ask daddy." They subsequently started fighting about who was better, stronger, could fix things. Sebastian vigorously defending my fix-it skills. Lucas vigorously saying daddy is a man, daddy is bigger, daddy is stronger.

Lucas is painfully obsessed with hubby. Often it's funny, usually it's convenient, occasionally it hurts, and sometimes, rarely, it fills me with self-pity. What's the point of motherhood if not even in the toddler/pre-school years, I get that adoring unconditional love that is reserved for mothers?! Isn't that supposed to be the just recompense for pregnancy, childbirth, nursing and years of sacrifice? The feeling, and eventually the memory of that unconditional need for mother's nurturing, cuddles, love, care?

Hopefully, number 3 will take after Sebastian. I just have to resign myself to the fact that Lucas will be pretty much a write-off. No future relationship there... :(

a woman's work is never done

DISCLAIMER: I have a husband who helps more in every way than any other husband I have ever seen, anywhere.

The injustice - or the sheer power - of it all.

A woman will always do more, even when she does less. Case in point: I used to work full-time. When I came home (mind you, to a home-cooked meal and all the laundry done), hubby clocked out. Weekends, hubby clocked out to go windsurfing. The logic being I wanted to spend any spare time I could with my kids, who I didn't get a chance to see during the week, AND that all the extra time hubby had taking care of the house made him tired of being around the kids, therefore deservedly off duty.

However, now that I work part-time, when hubby works the full day, the logic then is that I should do everything at home, because he's worked the whole day. He clocks out when he gets home at 5:30 (did I mention that when I worked full-time I would wake up at 6am, get home at 6:30pm). And on top of that, he's grumpy, and I can't ask him to do anything, because he's tired.

Then there's the injustice that these days, his work is physical. Mine is mental. In other words, physical work is harder than mental work. Always. He hasn't read the stats on stress. Or the physical work of creating another human being inside me. Nah, that's nothing.

Same goes in the summer. In the summer, he works at the windsurf school. I am at home full-time. This means I must do everything: laundry, cooking, shopping, cleaning, etc.

And the most annoying part of this is that I am not allowed to complain. Most men do even less. Most women do even more. Backwards and with heels. I've got the best there is.

The injustice - or the sheer power - of it all.

3rd boy!!

Woe is me, I am having a third boy!!! All I ever wanted was a daughter. Many daughters. Create a family of sisters! And I am surrounded by boys and men. Woe is me! Why? What did I do to deserve this? To be a mother of boys after a lifetime of girls!!

Everyone tells me how lucky I am, that boys are easier, that I will be the queen, that boys are more affectionate, attached to their mothers, blablablabla. Bullshit. Sebastian may love me and cuddle me more, but Lucas is O*B*S*E*S*S*E*D with his father. Morbidly obsessed. He will never prefer me. Ever. For anything.

And I live in Italy. Italians version of boys' attachments to their mothers is not one that I want for my boys. It's pathetic. And I will not raise mamma's boys. For their sake and for mine. I have yet to see a mature relationship between a son and mother in this godforsaken country. So my efforts will mean that my boys will not treat me like a pre-wife (i.e., I will not be doing their laundry, cooking, etc.), but there are no role models for an adult relationship between son and mother. You know, like friendly, interesting. Hubby doesn't have one with his mother. And that is really the only model, right?

So, I am going to spend a lifetime of efforts raising 3 boys, and then ultimately, my relationship with them will depend on the women they find. They could marry someone like Margaret (hubby's bitch of a sister-in-law), in which case, I lose my boys. And if they grow up like hubby, they will rebel so completely, that I won't hear from them at all.

As for being easier... why is that? What is it about girls that is so difficult? Adolescent moodiness? What, do boys not go through puberty? Moody silences, wet dreams, power-hungry adrenaline sports? And boys don't confide in their mothers. And when you lose a boy, the stakes are higher: drugs, motorcycles, dropping out of school, computer games, violence. When you lose a girl, okay, she experiments a little and get pregnant. So? A new baby in the family. Girls are closer to their families, listen more, are more "fearful" therefore in general listen more to their parents.

Besides, I know girls. I know them well. I don't know boys. Even playing with them. Hubby comes up with the most interesting games. He'll know a billion ways to make the same old firetruck rescue game interesting, by changing the protagonist, adding a ladder, removing a truck, etc. I just sit there thinking, 'Now what?' And when I try to copy his ideas, I get totally BORED. I was always a girly, girl.


It's karma. I spent too many years man-bashing and a feminist. Now this role of motherhood forces me to fight for men and boys. Woe is me, I say, woe is me!!!!!!!!

pregnancy sucks...

Or maybe just this pregnancy. But I'm "miserable." No one wants to hear a preggo woman complain, so I am just going to write about it instead.

I can't sleep. Or I sleep badly. Or I sleep, then wake up, then can't go back to sleep.

I'm always tired. Fatigued. Sleepy. Lethargic. Don't feel like doing anything. Ever.

I'm achy in my lower back. Or get random lower back cramps.

I'm always out of breath. I can't walk 10 meters without losing my breath.

I can't poop. I feel bloated. I get gassy. Indigestion. Reflux.

I'm always hungry. But I've gained too much weight. I feel fat. I am fat.

I have 3 and 1/2 more months to go. HELP!

already tired again

I went to pick up the kids yesterday after 3 days at my mother-in-law's place. It's been 24 hours, and I've already lost it again. They are yelling from the bedroom, it's almost 10pm, and all I want to do is yell at them at the top of my lungs and say mean things. I can barely take it anymore. And I am really worried. Where has my patience and my passion for being a good parent gone? And I am preggers with no. 3. I've lost all my desire and goodwill for parenting. Really. This sounds terrible, irrational, mean. But it's all I feel. I still love my kids. I look at them with awe. I love seeing the things they say and do, I am curious to know how they think, how they turn out, what they will like, love, be, as they grow. I just don't want to parent anymore. It's exhausting. I have no more patience. I want them to just grow up.

Ugh.

"fireman"

Today, when I told the boys I was going to call baby no. 3 Nicholas, Lucas was upset. He wants to call him "Fireman."

:/

freedom!

I have not been this happy to offload the kids at in-law's in a long, long, while. Not only has Seb continued behaving like a complete a**, but work has started on the house, which means hubby is never home, and all the home-making duties and responsibilities has fallen on my shoulders.

What a month!!

And it culminated in a trip to the emergency room and a weekend where the whole family had the stomach flu last week.

I know, I know, how do I do it, you ask.

By losing my s**t on average once a day for the past 4 weeks. Average means there are days where I lost it more than once. It is scary how easy it is to slide into this vicious circle of intolerance leading to/resulting from misbehaving and stress. Two mornings ago, I told Sebastian I wanted to throw him off the balcony. That I wanted to send him to a country where he would learn what hunger really is...

Alas.

I slept through the night last night for the first time in months. I feel a whole other person. I am sitting here with my coffee, looking out at the lake and finally appreciating my life and my family. Sigh... It is so much easier to appreciate them when they're not around!