Tag: Mac

Crazy Eights

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Dear Mac,

You are somehow eight months old.  You have lived outside the U.S. longer than you lived there.  Wild.  When we first moved here, we met an eight month old.  She seemed so impossibly big and capable and it all seemed so far away, but I knew it would be fast.  And here we are.

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You are quite the little roly poly.  Not just because of your adorable squish, of which there is plenty.  (Your dad said your thigh crease looked like a second butt the other day.  A very cute butt, of course.  And I mean booty, don’t say butt.)  No, you are a roll-a-mus because you are literally on a roll.  After showing very little interest in rolling at all, you can now flop from front to back AND back to front effortlessly.  We can put you down at one end of the carpet and you end up all the way at the other end.  You are going to be crawling any day now, I’m sure.  Although we said the same thing about your teeth . . .

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Even though you have been teething for at least four months, you refuse to sprout any teeth.  I can only imagine this is some sort of Benjamin Buttons situation where you are not growing teeth because you lost them already.  (If it was not abundantly clear from the previous sentence, I have not actually seen the movie.)  Every day we keep checking, but no dice.

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Your lack of teeth has not deterred your love of solid food though.  Man, you love to eat.  There is no combination of baby food too disgusting for you to ingest with relish.  You will eat pork, mixed veggies, and prunes together and then probably wonder about a second course.  You are a little more skeptical on some of your less pureed foods.  The chopped fish and green bean situation was not your jam.  We give you little bits of things to try to pick up, a challenge you seem to enjoy.  You will happily gum a hunk of apple all through breakfast.  You have tried rabbit baby food, but I think we will skip the recently-spotted horse.

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You had a fun Christmas with your brother.  Wrapping paper was a big hit.  Speaking of your brother, even since I last covered him, he has taken his play up a level.  He can now do imaginative play, particularly with his new Christmas cars and trucks.  The cars go on adventures and eat pancakes.  It feels like a little mini game of improv.  The cars jump off the building?  Yes AND they land at the octopus park!  I love this so much.  I really do.  But I find it to be draining.  I’m not sure why.  I can read the same book 12 times in a row without complaint, but for some reason “being the firetruck” takes a lot out of me.  Needless to say, I’m really excited to see you and Henry play this way when you are older.  I have very fond memories of playing Barbies, or My Little Ponies, or both with my sister for hours.  Her memories may be less fond because I know I was teeniest bit cough cough bossy.  I hope you and Henry have excellent memories together.  And if you can “be the firetruck” for a bit, that is all the better for me.  (I am always fire truck.  I don’t mind.  I’m just curious what made the kid look at me and think, yup, you are definitely firetruck material.)

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For being a baby, I am always impressed how hard you can troll your brother.  You guys seems to have a strange symbiotic relationship where you can’t stand to be apart but often can’t stand to be together.  It usually starts when Henry insists on playing right beside you.  You grab all the toys he doesn’t want you to grab.  He melts down.  You melt down.  Repeat.

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You also seem to have fun together.  I think you could watch Henry for hours.  I get pretty indignant when he causes you harm.  (I do try and avoid this, prevent it, and police it.)  You look at him with such admiration and trust and when he hurts you it feels like a punch to the gut.  Every time.  You never see it coming and your eyes go from trust to naked disbelief that this would happen.  And then you flip over on the bed and put your feet all over your brother.  I think you’ll be fending for yourself before I know it.

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I keep sleep stalking you.  At the risk of waking you, I even take pictures.  Or ask your dad to do it.  You still aren’t quite making it through the night, but your wakeups are getting closer to five or six AM.  I keep telling myself that we’re getting there . . .

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Speaking of sleep, you seem to be dropping your morning nap.  I’m OK with this.  It frees us up for more morning adventures and you can cat nap if you need it.  I am not OK with the state some days which seems to be a crankypants baby who refuses to sleep.  Your choices are be asleep or be awake and pleasant.  Thank you in advance.

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I really can’t complain because you continue to be the happiest, most cheerful little dude.  I think you are getting a little slower to smile at strangers; you like to analyze the situation first.  You don’t mind not being around me, but you often get upset when I leave the room.  This always surprises me because many times you are doing your own thing, and I didn’t think I was even on your radar.

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Being on a cute baby’s radar.  There are worse places to be.  🙂

Love, Mom

P.S.  Whoops, didn’t write about 7 months (I swear we took pics!), but more on Mac at 4 months, 5 months, and 6 months.

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A day in the life

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This is not the most glamorous, but I present for your consideration a typical day around here.  In many ways it is not “typical,” (we don’t always go to tree lightings), but is there actually a typical day?  As you will see, it is not all cappuccino wishes and fettuccine dreams.

7:06 am James’s alarm goes off. Holy tootknockers, that means Mac slept through the night! This has only happened a handful of times and is big doin’s. Of course, he stirred right when James got in the shower, but settled back down.
7:06 – 7:30 Reading. Most days this is spent dozing fitfully, thinking about the day, and yelling at myself that this would be the perfect time to get up and do some pilates. Sigh, some day.
7:30 – 7:55 Shower, get dressed, makeup. Mac is stirring so James gets him up and changes the dipe. We say goodbye to James.
7:55 – 8:36 Henry is stirring. I grab Mac and head into Henry’s room, giving Henry a couple books. Henry reads while I feed Mac. Eventually, Henry is ready to leave the crib. He gets the new diaper, fresh clothes treatment. We hang out on the bed for a bit.

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8:36 – 9:10 Breakfast time. I’m irked because the dishwasher was not run last night and walking into a messy kitchen is a pain. Less shenanigans today than usual from the boys though, likely because I told Henry that if he eats his eggs than he can have leftover banana bread. The boys sit while I cook. Henry and I have eggs, as we do most days, and Mac has the rest of a jar of prunes baby food. I throw more in the dishwasher and start it on the way out.

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9:10 – 9:32 We head to the living room to play. New outfit for Mac. Henry is super into the nativity scenes here. So far, I’ve seen cows eating grass, wise men marching, angels dive-bombing shepherds, and sheep eating Baby Jesus. I slip out for two minutes to throw in a load of laundry at some point.

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9:32 – 9:37 Prepping Mac for his nap and putting him down.
9:37 – 9:48 Confirm that Henry is occupied and clean the two bathrooms. Henry comes in when I’m finishing up the tub in the second bathroom.
9:48 – 9:50 Refill waters and sippy cups.
9:50 – 10:15 Henry and I read. Lion King and a book on military aircraft today.   It’s all toddler’s choice around here.
10:15 – 10:25 Henry and I play basketball.
10:25 – 10:45 Mac wakes up. New diapers for everyone!   (Bathroom break for me.) Locating shoes, socks, and jackets for everyone and stuffing shoes, socks, and jackets onto everyone. Two meltdowns result which is not a terrible track record.
10:45 – 11:55 We head outside. I thought about heading to a farther park like Villa Borghese, but the clouds are still looking ominous and decide it is better to stay close. I thought we’d hit the playground out front, but we ended up on a “toddler walk.”   This is a walk where the toddler sets the pace and we stop where he wants. Henry kicked trash.

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Climbed on window grates.

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And kicked columns.

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For the record, the Italians approve of none of this. Italian kids generally sit in strollers bundled up to their eyeballs. Nobody said anything though, except the one lady who commented that Henry should be wearing a hat because of the wind, but she was pretty nice about it.
11:55 – 12:25 We head inside to watch one episode of Winnie the Pooh, aka the only way I could convince Henry to come inside.   I can’t just scoop him up because I’m wearing Mac. I feed Mac while Henry watches. Mac and I play. I throw Henry’s wet shoes in the dryer. Henry has a meltdown that he only gets one episode and then gets a timeout because he repeatedly shoved his brother.   He is uninterested in lunch and tells me it is time for nap.
12:25 – 12:38 Naptime is usually at 1:00, but who am I to question a screaming toddler? New diapers and story time. Kids are down for naps.
12:38 – 12:50 I switch that laundry from earlier and make myself lunch. I start to unload the dishwasher, but double naptime is sacred and must not be squandered on chores.  Lunch today is some seriously past its prime arugula with oil and salt/pepper (I end up abandoning about a quarter of the way through), apple, cheese, three leftover pieces of coppa, and a heated mug of turkey broth.
12:50 – 1:01 Read some blogs. I’m in the bad habit of associating food with internet break time. Too many lunches eaten at my desk at the law firm.
1:01 – 1:15 Read some sites on what to do in Nuremberg for upcoming trip.
1:15 – 2:25 Write 1.5 blog posts.  Post the day’s post.
2:25 – 2:55 Take dishes back to kitchen, grab a small piece of banana bread and nutella spoon, respond to email, check a few more blogs.
2:55 – 3:15 Text with my neighbor about walking to Christmas tree lighting. Read guide book on Munich.
3:15 – 3:18 When I hear the kids start to stir, hit the bathroom and go on a blitz gathering up stuff for our outing.
3:18 – 3:45 Feed Mac, change diapers, get Henry yogurt, put on shoes, socks, coats, etc.
3:45 – 4:25 Walk to James’s work for Christmas tree lighting.
4:25 – 5:30 Enjoy tree lighting and reception.

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5:30 – 6:25 Walk to and enjoy best gelato ever at Come il Latte. More on this soon.

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6:25 – 7:00 See someone we know. Walk home with friend, chatting all the way.
7:00 – 7:40 Peel off shoes, socks, coats; hanging out and chillin’ as a fam.

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7:40 – 8:00 Get kids ready for bed.
8:00 – 8:45 Make soup from the turkey stock we made previously. Empty the dishwasher, reload the dishwasher, and do other kitchen cleaning tasks with James. In theory, we would do more chatting about our days here, but we were both kind of out of it and cranky.
8:45 – 9:30 Eat soup and do some plotting with James on Munich trip.
9:30 – 9:50 Watch an episode of Brooklyn 99 with James. (If you aren’t watching this show, you really should be watching this show.)
9:50 – 10:00 Get ready for bed.
10:00 – 11:00 Read in bed. I really need to get better here. In my mind, I only read for like 15 minutes. Clearly, that is NOT the case.

So there you have it.  A typical-ish weekday in December.  Some days we see friends.  Some days we go to the store.  Most days we feed the kids a real dinner.  But if you can’t have gelato for dinner every now and then, what’s the point of living in Italy?

 

 

 

 

 

Are things different? Glad you asked: Starting Solids Edition

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As I mentioned recently, we just started solid foods with Mac.  I forgot how much of a pain solids are.  Yeah, it is awesome seeing your kid doing a new thing.  Yeah, they look really adorable.  But, man, it is messy.  Now I get spit up and random bits of food.  Cleaning the giant high chair tray in the not-quite- big-enough sink is a pain.  And then you have to remember to bring food for them when you go out.  And spoons.  And bibs.  And even more wipes than usual.  Luckily, we haven’t reached that point because we’re just dabbling with one meal (or so) a day, but it is coming.  And soon.

As many things, Italians have a different approach on starting solids.  Our pediatrician is supportive of us doing it “the American way,” aka rice cereal with milk or formula, but wanted us to know about “the Italian way.”  (She is also supportive of our current approach for Mac, “the what worked for Henry way,” aka bypassing rice cereal and jumping into veggies and fruits.  Henry is a pretty great eater; I’d like to replicate as much as possible.  If only I could remember what we did!)

Here is a snippet of the instructions she provided:

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Making your own broth for cereal?  Cool, sounds good to me.  What cracks me up is that the Italian approach adds Parmesan cheese and olive oil right away.  Priorities!  What cracks me up even more is that an “espresso size spoon” is used for measurement.  Because, of course it is.

After the cereal, babies work on veggies and fruits.  And eventually work their way up to:

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Yes, rabbit and veal.  It is safe to say that baby food looks a little different here.  No judgment.  I just have to laugh that they put the most adorable magician’s- hat, want-to-be-your-pet, snowy rabbit on the packaging.

So far Mac has done carrots, zucchini, sweet potato, banana, apple, and pears.  He was tentative for anything non-sweet at first, but now is pretty enthusiastic about whatever we throw his way.

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We have plans to start with the white meats on Thanksgiving.  Still working up to rabbit . . .

What was your approach on solids?  Did it include cereal?  Veal?  Espresso?  🙂

Want more differences?  Differences around the house here.  Differences on lifestyle here.

Mac is 6 months

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Dear Mac,

You are really killing it right now as a baby.  You just make this look easy.  You are teething so hard, but you’d hardly know it other than the drool and chewing on your fingers.  Every day I keep expecting those teeth to pop out, but they remain elusive.

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You’ve really stepped up your sitting game.  You can go for minutes at a time unassisted, and you love to sit in the boppy.  This is sort of your rotation.  Absolutely engrossed with your toys sitting in the boppy.  Absolutely engrossed with your toys in the Exersaucer.  Pissed off about tummy time.  Repeat.  You are so consumed by what you are doing that sometimes you barely notice your brother and me.  Except when we are singing and having dance parties.  That you really love to watch.  It makes me smile that you seem to like my singing.

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You are still huge.  Your recent doctor’s visit had you at 18 lbs 5 oz (a full pound and a third more than your brother).  Now that you are six months, we are starting to play with solids.  At the doctor’s suggestion, you did some grated apple.  You had the most priceless “bitter beer” face at first, but you seem to be getting the hang of it.  (If I’m being honest, your first food was technically gelato when you attacked your dad’s spoon.  You also enjoyed some ice cream cone after Henry stared wistfully at the gelato place and the gelato lady brought him an empty cone and then gave you one because she didn’t want you to be left out.  I think you gummed half of it down before I turned around to take it from you.)  You have also had banana, but that is because you were sitting in my lap and pretty much took down the banana I was eating.  We tried some zucchini.  You weren’t feeling it, but in your defense, it looked pretty gross.  I promise to step up my baby food prep game.  You have tried carrots and sweet potatoes, but you only have a taste for the sweet stuff.  We’ll see what comes next.  You like to drink out of cups.  Like a lot.

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I will admit that things are different with you than they were for your brother.  With Henry, I think we had pictures and videos for most new foods tried.  For you, we do have a video with your first food (not the gelato, the other first food).  But your typical experience is eating banana that I mushed with my fingers while sitting in my lap so I can’t take a picture.  (I can’t put you in your highchair because Henry’s baby is in there and he will freak if I move it.)

Even though everything isn’t documented, you do have something your brother didn’t, which is the constant source of encouragement and entertainment that is Henry.  You never get tired of watching him.  And most of the time, he’s your biggest fan.  You guys are so fun to watch together.  I hope you will be tight.

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Brothers don’t shake hands . . . brothers gotta hug

You have more hair than I think your brother grew in over a year, but that isn’t say much for either of you.  You have this one extra long hair right above your forehead that sometimes sticks straight up and I will be so sad when it falls out.  I call it your unicorn horn.

We had a breakthrough on sleeping very recently.  You’ve been consistently getting up once a night.  It was at 4, then at 2:30, then at 2:00.  The night you got up at 12:30, I put my foot down and we put in the work of helping you sooth yourself.  It took an hour and half before you settled, but every night since then you’ve been sleeping straight on through.  It’s amazing and wonderful and I’m scared to even type it here to jinx it, but you’ve been going strong for over a week now and I hope it is the new normal.

I still usually come in and creepily stare at you sleeping before I go to bed.  You look even more like your brother when asleep.  And you look younger.  And you look huge.  Sigh, it does go so fast.

Love, Mom

Happy Halloween, ya’ll

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Ah, Halloween.  The most wonderful Facebook time of the year.  Unlike the common complaint, I LOVE seeing pictures of other people’s kids on FB.  This is pretty much the reason I have not yet deleted my account.  I am super psyched to see pics of all the kids in their adorable costumes.  Here is my contribution.

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As you can see, we have two football players.  Or a football player and a football.  (Shout out to Aunt Winky for the awesome knitted hat!)  I obsessed for a hot minute on costuming.  On the one hand, I didn’t want to spend a lot of money.  On the other hand, kids costumes are adorable and I figure I have limited years when I can dress them however I want.  I also really wanted a matching costume option.  Henry has been really into Tigger so I contemplated a Tigger and Winnie the Pooh getup before deciding that was way too much money to spend to basically dress Henry as a Clemson Tiger.  Sorry, Family.  We were able to achieve the look above with only the purchase of the helmet which gets a lot of play around here since it doubles as Henry’s moto helmet.  (Clearly not for safety.  He just wants to wear a helmet while riding.)

Halloween isn’t a big deal over here.  I’ve seen a few decorations in stores.  James and I went to dinner last night and saw a restaurant putting up a witches and things in the window.  I thought, if you are bothering to decorate at all, why not do it before the 30th, but whatever floats your boat.

James’s work had a trick-or-treating event for kids.  People decorated cars and you went “trunk or treating.”  It was pretty sweet.  Henry got surprisingly into the tchotchkes from the carnival games.  We were informed that Henry was in the “top 3” for the costume contest.  Several of the judges were our friends so I’m pretty sure they just didn’t want to seem biased.  We bailed shortly into the trick-or-treating because it got intense fast, but a very fun night.

Henry and I decorated giant sugar cookies from a kit (thanks Nana!).  Well, I mostly did the decorating.  Henry did the eating.  (There was much debate with my girlfriends whether the cookies were meant to be eaten or whether they are more like gingerbread houses.  The packaging didn’t say to eat them, but it also didn’t say not to do it.  And it lists ingredient so probably eaten?  I can report that the cookies themselves taste pretty gross.  Henry loves them.)  I’m generally more into the process and really don’t care how things look, but I was frustrated that Henry had no interest in decorating the cookies before consumption.  Come on, kid, can’t you just smear a little icing on?  But then he’d have the icing bag up to his mouth funneling frosting.  Oh, well.

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I carved a pumpkin today.  (Note that I did not say we carved a pumpkin.  More on that in a sec.)  Even though I am not crafty or artistic, I am strangely into seasonal craft activities.  I love to dye elaborate but deflicted looking eggs.  Bring on the fireworks!  And I really really love to carve pumpkins.

My pumpkin “skillz” have really come a long way.  As a kid, I refused to touch the pumpkin guts.  I spent WAY too long trying to scoop out the insides with a spoon and not let any of the detritus touch my hand.  Now I can clean a pumpkin in two minutes flat.  In years past, I am frequently the official pumpkin scooper because James claims his hand is too big to fit inside.

And, you guys, remember the days before pumpkin carving kits?  Here, kid, go nuts with this paring knife.  But, oh, the kits rocked my world.  First, I really like using that dotty stabber thing to make designs.  I guess a pencil would work as well, but I think the planning is helpful.  Also, I like to freehand these days, but the prepackaged designs provided great inspiration.  Pumpkins can have eyebrows??  Before, I was definitely in an eye, eye, nose, mouth rut and I didn’t even know it was a rut.  Until I saw the designs, I had no idea how far pumpkin carving could go.  Remember this was in the PP era (pre-Pinterest).

So today I thought Henry could help carve the pumpkin.  He decided to take a morning nap.  He didn’t actually nap.  See, the only time he can have his pacifier is in the crib.  He knows this so sometimes he likes to just go hang out in there.  Instead of feeling hurt that my toddler would rather sit alone in a darkened room with his pacifier than hang out with me or wait for him to emerge, I decided to just enjoy carving my pumpkin.  So not the enjoyment of seeing a child experience something new, but the enjoyment of doing what you want and actually finishing something.

I decided to use Mac for pumpkin inspiration.  Not in a sit-here-kid-and-let-me-pumpkinize you kind of way, but just going for the essence of Mac.  That kid is just so darn happy.

How’d I do?

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I’m pretty pleased with the results.  (If this is a “good” outcome, you can appreciate how many of my other crafting attempts look.)

The kids will be trick-or-treating in the building tonight, and then I am ready to stick-a-fork-in-it done this Halloween.

What are your Halloween plans?  Don’t forget to post those adorable kiddo pics!

Things I say on a daily basis

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“Don’t squish Mac.”

“Stop squishing Mac.”

“Don’t lean on him.”

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“You can’t have pasta for breakfast.”

“You can’t have pretzels either.”

“New diaper!!”  (Said in the tone of a game show host announcing a new car.)

“We don’t kick Mommy.  We don’t kick Daddy.  Or Mac.  Or cars.  Sure, if you can reach the ceiling fan, you can kick it.”

“You have to walk or you can get in the stroller.  I can’t carry you now.”

“Yes, moto.  Yes, that’s a blue moto.  Big moto!”

“Henry, what are you doing?”

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“Dude, that’s a lot of spitup.”

“You did it!”

“Seriously, more spitup?  Where is it all coming from?”

“Thank you, Henry.  That’s very helpful.”

“We’re not watching Frozen right now.”

“We’re not watching Tigger right now.”

“We’re not watching Robin Hood right now.”

“Yes, Queen Elsa and Princess Anna are sisters.”

“Mas zooming!”

“Don’t kick your brother.”

“Don’t eat your brother.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

That time we accidentally crashed a movie set

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We did it!  We finally went on an outing in the car.  After my indecision and the dead car battery kept us from any exotic long weekend plans, we decided to do a day trip on Columbus Day to Tivoli.  Villa D’Est is closed on Mondays, but we could still hit Hadrian’s Villa (Villa Adriana).  Armed with the freshly-recharged car battery, a haphazard picnic, the umbrella stroller, and the lillebaby, we set off around 9:30 am.  Adventure ho!

Have I mentioned our car before?  It’s a 2003 Audi station wagon.  Very low mileage because it used to be the Irish Ambassador’s to the Vatican.  (Or something like that.)  Instead of shipping a car, we bought it here right before we came.  This one is already “lightly Romanized.”  No need to put that many dinks and scratches on our beloved Passat we decided.

Even though it is a station wagon, the car is definitely not huge.  Poor Henry doesn’t have quite the foot room he deserves sitting behind James.  He’s stuck there though because Mac’s rear-facing car seat only has a chance of fitting behind me.

James insisted on purchasing a European GPS before we embarked on any journeys.  He didn’t want our hands in the fate of sketchy data coverage on the Google maps.  Fine by me.  I’m not sure I plan on driving ever so whatever you need to make this happen, Little Mister, is ok with me.

The GPS said it would take us about 30 minutes.  It was about an hour.  Traffic reaffirmed my desire never to drive here ever.  And it wasn’t just the other drivers.  There really aren’t lanes.  It isn’t even a question of whether there are two or three lanes, but also not knowing where the center dividing line is.  Fun!

After navigating the roads out of town and the Autostrade, the GPS tried to lead us astray.  Thankfully, following the Italian road signs actually worked out.  After some maneuvering, we found the parking lot.  We noticed some white tents to the side of the parking lot.  I think I said something like “oh, cool, a market, we’ll have to check that out later.”  (Foreshadowing: not a market.)

Tickets were a little pricey.  11 euro for adults plus 3 more for parking, but at least kids were free.  We made it up what felt like a never ending hill and then there we were.  You could see the wall.  Of course, we did a quick diaper change before heading in.  #placesmysonsjunkhasbeen

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Apparently Villa Adriana is the OG Versailles.  Warning: liberal paraphrasing ahead.  It seems that Hadrian decided Rome was too stinky and gross so he built his own place outside town and then just posted up there permanently.  And it is quite the place.  400 acres.  We barely scratched the surface, and that is only of what has already been excavated.

It's only a model

It’s only a model

One of the better preserved areas we saw was the Canopus.  Apparently Hadrian put a bunch of copies of things he’d seen on his travels and conquests.

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Canopus

Yup - that's a crocodile statue

Yup – that’s a crocodile statue

I spent a good bit of time just trying to picture what it must have been like back in the day.  Orchards in bloom, people clustered around doing whatever they did, servants scurrying.  I’m pretty bad at picturing, but you could tell it was an impressive place.  I did note that it was pretty much 85 in mid-October.  So everyone I pictured was pretty sweaty.

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We struggled mightily with the how much to push question.  I paid my 25 euros.  I came all the way here.  I wanted to see things, darnit!  Henry, however, wanted to roll his car in the dirt.  And slide down a hill on pine needles.  And the lizards that were EVERYWHERE.  After lugging the stroller up too many stairs and wishing we had more food, we were stick-a-fork-in-it done.  The kids both passed out on the way to the car.  I was looking forward to checking out that market and the picnic in the car.

Spaz included for scale

Spaz included for scale

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On the long walk back to the car, we noticed that an area was closed off for “cinema” something or other.  There were an awful lot of vehicles over that way.  Then we saw dudes on horses.  In full Roman soldier regalia.  And we heard a director yelling something in English.

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So that “market” we saw was the makeshift production village.  They had trailers and people with costumes.  People eating in a shaded mess area and generally taunting our stomachs.  Animals such as donkeys and goats; location of PETA representative unknown.  We just sort of wandered through.  Nobody told us to get out.  Or really seemed to notice us at all for that matter.

These people could be famous!

These people could be famous!

Sadly, I can’t tell you what was filming.  I really wish I could.  It’s not because we were sworn to secrecy.  I just don’t know!  I’ve tried my hardest (read: light Googling), but I can’t find anything.  It could be a local Italian TV show or the next summer blockbuster.  I should have spent more time looking for names on trailer doors!  Stay tuned for more adventures by car that are mandatory to keep the battery charged.

Mac is 5 months

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Dear Mac,

I can’t believe you are five months already.  After I spent two months telling everyone you were four months old, I can’t seem to advance your age now.  You are just squeezing into your 3-6 months outfits, and I don’t think that will fly much longer.  You are almost 18 pounds.

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You are so happy.  Everyone who sees you comments that you never cry.  Which isn’t exactly true, but you are usually cheerful to be outside and excited to see people.  Even though you are teething hard right now, you would hardly know, aside from all the drool, as you are such a good sport about it.

Before I forget or they morph again, I wanted to share some of your nicknames.  Although your brother’s nicknames mostly derived from Henry-kins (Kinz, Kensington, etc.) or “Squeaks,” yours come from “Squish.”  So you have Squishimi, Squishimus, Squishipuss, and my recent reversing, Pusslesquish.  Your dad calls you Mackleton and Mackle Tackle.  I am guilty of calling you Big Mac, Smacks, Smack, and similar and apologize profusely for drug-related nicknames.  #smackiswhack

Kind of looks like a minion here, right?

Kind of looks like a minion here, right?

You rolled today!  Front to back.  You had a five month appointment at the doctor, because apparently that is a thing here, and you rolled for the first time.  It was as if on command.  Show off!  Everyone at the doctor was charmed by your squish and smiles, even though you skipped your morning nap.

You have quite the grip.  You can manipulate toys like nobody’s business.  We’ll wait a tiny bit more on solids, but I think you will be ready.  You have been enjoying spoon/fork time and you are about to grab all the food off our plates.  You are still getting up around once a night.  I keep hoping that maybe solids will help on that.  We shall see!

Ball so hard

Ball so hard

Love, Mom

Balancing Act

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On Saturday, we visited Villa Torlonia.  It has a rich history, but I was mostly intrigued because this was Mussolini’s pad from 1925 – 1943.  He rented it from the Torlonia family for one lire per year.

10.7_balancing_two cool dudes

This was the backup plan.  I originally concocted grandiose plans of taking various forms of public transportation down to the Colosseum.  But after I constructed a plan, I realized it sounded miserable and scrapped it for a walkable destination.

So, you want to see Mussolini’s house?  BAM.

10.7_balancing_fronthouse

You want to see the back of the house?  BAM.

10.7_balancing_back house

The villa, which is basically a park, had a lot more to offer.  For example, the Casina delle Civette (House of Owls) is a random building that served as a “respite from the main property.”

10.7_balancing_owl house

10.7_balancing_owl house closer

It’s folly-rific.  Called house of owls because of the random owl stained glass and other decorations.

See random owl

See random owl

We didn’t go inside the House of Owls.  Or Mussolini’s house.  I wanted to, but someone had other plans.

Who me?

Who me?

Basically, tickets cost money and would have covered both houses.  We probably could have managed to tour one without meltdown, but I didn’t want to pay for both houses and then only make it through one.  If we pushed, we could have done both, but would have ended up with cranky, hungry people at the end.  (Not just the toddler.)

And Henry was having such a lovely time with the palm trees.  After he initially didn’t want to go into the palm grove because it was “too dark,” he found some giant palm fronds and conscripted his father into service.

10.7_balancing_palm frond

So this is the dilemma.  This is always the dilemma.  On the one hand, we saw something new and were having a lovely day at the park.  On the other hand, it would have been nice to see more.  We were already there.  The tours might have been fine.  Or they might have turned an otherwise fun outing into a disaster.

The question is always when to push.  When to go for it.  And when to just enjoy a nice day.

This time we opted to relax.  Which worked for me.  At least that day.  I just need to remind myself to go for it sometimes.  When it makes sense.  When we really want to.  It will always be easier to do less.  But sometimes we need to do more.

Family ruins selfie

Family ruins selfie

Another reason I need to learn Italian

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Besides needing to stop trying to shoplift produce and to stop talking about multiple anuses, I have another reason to learn Italian.  I have a very beautiful child.  This isn’t just biased mom speak here, although I certainly am that.  I know that he is beautiful because the Italians keep telling me.

Irresistible to Italians since 2014

Irresistible to Italians since 2014

Typical scenario:  picture me huffing away pushing the double stroller.  Usually elderly Italian walks up and coos at the kids.  Sometimes they just flip me a “Complimenti” and walk on.  Other times they want more of a chat.  I just smile and nod while my brain is going a hundred miles per hour to try to keep up.  I once told the little old lady “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian.”  She nodded and just kept talking.  In Italian.  I usually try to throw in a few “Henry, say ciao” or similar to hopefully signify that I do not speak the Italian and I am not purposely trying to anger everyone here over the age of 60.

Enjoying said free sucker

People give Henry things.  Our first time in a restaurant, the waiter rolls up with a ball of dough on a plate and sets it in front of Henry.  And then sat back just to watch what happened.  (Henry licked it and then set it down.)  We walked past a flower stall and the man pulled out a rose for Henry.  He got a free sucker at the panini place.  The kid is racking up freebies.

Henry currently draws more attention, but Mac also has a devoted following.  He had a pretty resounding cheek squishing at the pizza place and then the lady stalked him down the street for additional squishing when we paused to chat with a neighbor.  I can’t really blame her.

You can't resist the squish

You can’t resist the squish

A surprising number of people have asked if they are twins.  Mac is big, but not that big . . .

Adorable? Who, us?

Adorable? Who, us?

So here is my blanket apology to all the Italians I am not properly responding to as you compliment my children.  Learn Italian.  I’m on it.  In the meantime, I am flattered, and I hope my smile and heartfelt “grazie” do the trick.