Back on track

I really don't like posting pictures of myself but I'm so happy to be out and about with my running stroller (with Dylan in it, of course) that I just had to post this one. I will say right away that I know I need my roots done but let's do the math - Dylan feeds every 90 minutes to two hours. Going to the haircut place and getting my hair done takes at least three hours. I could take Dylan with me but the idea of breastfeeding while I have toxic chemicals on my head kind of freaks me out. I could leave him with his nonna or his zia and express some milk, I guess but then my breasts get hard and engorged and that feels ouchy...Anyway, I digress.

This weekend was gorgeous, spring was in the air and we power walked around the new park they created in what used to be a quarry. The little park in our town is part of a whole larger park that is in the works complete with large promenade that they are calling "La Rambla" and a modern art museum, all of which is to be designed by Renzo Piano. Pretty cool, especially if you consider that when Cristiano was growing up here, there was no park and they had to play in the abandoned quarry, which was dirty and dangerous. You can see our little town in the background. If the day had been less hazy and foggy, you would also be able to see the Alps. It 'aint Tuscany but we'll take what we can get.

Rebel without a sock

Early morning diaper change. Diaper off, Dylan pees all over the outfit he slept in. The offending wet outfit comes off. Mom wipes him down, puts on a new diaper, wraps him in a towel so he won't get cold outside the toasty bathroom and walks over to his room to get a new outfit. Back in the bathroom, mom is snapping up the new outfit when Dylan spits up all over it. The new outfit comes off. Dylan is once again nude save for a diaper and mom again wraps him in a towel and walks him over to his bedroom to get yet another new outfit. Mom won't mention here the amount of laundry she is doing daily, how it's February and how she has no clothes dryer. Anyway, once dressed in the second (technically the third...) outfit, mom leaves Dylan in his Boppy on the couch so she can go clean up the mess in the bathroom. Upon her return she sees that Dylan has vomited all over the Boppy cover. Boppy cover removed, mom leaves Dylan in the cover-less Boppy and takes the dirty article to be washed. She comes back to find that Dylan - in what is clearly an act of defiance - has kicked off his right sock. It's going to be one of those days...

This is what I look like when I'm hungry...

Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing - Photo Books

I had forgotten about this video. Dylan wasn't even a week old here. In fact, he still looks like a little baby and less like the mini pre-toddler he is now. But this is still the face I see (and the crying and whining I hear) about 12 times a day when Dylan wants to eat. In this video, he's so mad, he takes his right sock off. This blue jogging suit no longer even fits him. It's currently in a yellow Poste Italiane box on its way to Rome being sent to my friend Shelley whose Italian-American baby boy should be born any second now.

Why, the reader may ask, is he always in that Boppy? Well we have no bouncy chair, swing or infant-friendly seat or chair. Why? I have no idea. We've never gotten around to buying any of those things. We really need to get some new seating options for him...

No day at the lake

It's been unseasonably warm and sunny here so we had planned on doing a little walk along the lake today but we woke up to gray skies. A blustery tramontana wind was blowing down from the mountains, so a change of plans was in order. Today lunch at nonna's as usual for a Sunday. Maybe next week we will see the lake...

A good day for my comfy corduroy overalls...

...and a nap!

Dylan a month ago

I just saw some photos my friend Tybie took through the glass window in the nursery while we were still in the hospital. Here are two good ones.

"Signora, your baby is crying. We think he needs to eat and can't wait until visiting hours are over..."

Dylan and his papà

Happy Mardi Gras

In the hospital nursery when I wore this outfit, the old lady volunteers called me "Carnevale" because they said my polka dots looked like Carnival confetti. Check me out! It's my first Carnevale but I'm too little this year to get dressed up, throw confetti or spray people with silly string. Maybe next year...And, anyway, in Milan, Fat Thursday is the big day!