Cousins

Last month, we hung with our Italian cousins ("cugini," in Italian). Below are some pics of Dylan visiting with his American cousins. I don't have a lot of other exciting things to report as we've really spent most of the last few days just getting adjusted and getting over jet lag. Dylan has adjusted fine and is doing great.

Dylan and Kelsey

Dylan, Landon and Elijah

Alitalia's not so bad...

dylanaereo
Originally uploaded by michellanea

Not very good quality video but here's Dylan on the plane. We are here!

Dylan gives bacini!

Dylan now understands the command "give me a kiss" and complies with wet open-mouthed kisses on your cheek. He only understands if you say "Dammi un bacino" in Italian though. We will work on his English kissing technique while we are in the U.S.

I'm sitting among suitcases to pack, hanging laundry (yes, it's raining outside), clothes to fold and a million things to do before we leave Wednesday morning, including a ginormous translation.

Just as a side note, I don't have a U.S. cell phone right now. T Mobile gave my phone number away to someone else as the phone hadn't been used in 11 months. I'm so annoyed! When I signed up for that plan, I explained I'd be using the phone once per year. So I won't have a phone (what a pain in the butt!) for the first few days in the U.S. I'll send my new phone number as soon as I get it.

Gotta run. My carrot ginger soup needs stirring (as soon as I stopped breastfeeding, I started packing on the pounds - my free ticket to eat and eat and eat is no longer)!

Check-up

I owe a lot of emails. Sorry I'm running around trying to finish up work projects and pack for our upcoming departure on Wednesday. This weekend we have to go down and pick up our stuff from the beach house. There's so much to do.

In any case, this morning Dylan had a pediatric check-up. He's doing great. He weighs 18.8 pounds (yikes!) and is a little over 27 inches. There is one small problem in that he may need to be circumcised if his pisellino ("little pea" in Italian) doesn't open. The pediatrician has pointed this out to me every visit and asks me "But can he pee like that?" Yes, he pees. I change his diapers, lady. Now she's saying if it doesn't open soon, we may have to consider circumcision. I don't even want to think about that. Poor little guy.

I had her check his ears before the flight on Wednesday and, of course, she rolled her eyes and sighed, which is what she does when you ask her to actually get up from behind her desk and examine the patient. That's an Italian state doctor for you but, hey, it's free so I guess we aren't supposed to expect much.

Traveling and the biscuits of the chocolate

We are in overdrive trying to prepare for our trip (we leave next Wednesday) and there is so much to do and to remember. I especially want to be prepared for the long plane and car trips as we make our way from Milan to New York to Ohio. We have a nine-hour flight from Milan to New York and have to change airports (don't ask) from JFK to Newark to pick up our rental car. I still have to figure out how Dylan can ride in a taxi or car service car without a car seat. After we pick up our car, we are going to stay overnight somewhere in New Jersey and then drive the rest of the way to Ohio the next day (or in the middle of the night depending on how long Dylan sleeps...). I told Cristiano that next year we are NOT picking up a car in New York and driving to Ohio. We are flying direct to our destination and then taking internal flights from there. The driving everywhere thing is his grand plan and was fine when we didn't have a baby but I somehow think that mixing formula and trying to feed Dylan strained peas at 65 MPH is not going to be fun. So I must be really organized with the right amount of formula, food, bottles (will I be able to wash bottles on the road?), etc..

I'm running around trying to find gifts and fun things for all of our little friends in the U.S. but I realize that unless I bring olive oil or wine, there's really nothing all that interesting in Italy that doesn't exist in the U.S. Everything child or baby-related either comes from the U.S. (though we have much less selection here) or can be found there in greater quantities and much cheaper. All of the children's clothing stores here are French chains but for whatever reason, all of the t-shirts and things have (incorrect) English writing on them. Dylan got a pair of pajamas as a gift that had a bear eating cookies and the phrase "The biscuits of the chocolate" (I think they meant "chocolate biscuits"). Sounds like a direct translation from French or Italian, which are both article-happy languages. Then he just received a t-shirt that has a Kansas license plate (called "The Wheat Stat" on the t-shirt though in actuality it is "The Sunflower State;" I emphasize the "e" on the end of "State"), a cactus, a tumbleweed and a dune buggy with the words "Adventures in the Desert" written on it. I guess Kansas is part of The Great American Desert (a figurative connotation) but who thinks of desert when they think of Kansas? Apparently the French do. Though I did find that "Everyone's Favourite Boy" shirt in correct British English. All of the school supplies just started coming out so I went to see if I could find something fun for our little American friends as they go back to school. I saw a pink sequined pencil case with the words "Sexy Lover" on it. OK, that's a pass...I may be having to stop in at Gap Kids for gifts when I get to the U.S.

Six months old!

This is the very first photo with mommy. The kid was ravenous and I have no photos of us together on that rainy January day where I'm not topless so avert the eyes if it's too much. (Thanks Vanessa for the nightgowns! I wore them all).

Here he is today....

It may seem to the dear reader that I've done nothing but be cranky and complain about sleep deprivation and my laundry not drying over these last six months but I can honestly say that while that has been my "blog persona," in reality, I've never let this kid see me sweat. He's awoken each morning to a big smile and a "good morning, sunshine!" and gone to bed every night with a whispered "good night, my love." I've given him all of myself, more than I ever knew I had to give. He's a marvel, he's a wonder, he's a miracle. And he's six months old.

Parsley, sage and other developments

Lots of news around here. First there was the "parsley situation." Dylan hadn't pooped in a few days, which isn't normal for him. He's a pretty regular little guy. So yesterday there was talk among the famiglia about what to do. Call his regular pediatrician? No, she sucks and is available for questions from 8:30 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. during which time her phone is always busy anyway. If you have questions outside of those hours, you are out of luck. Plus, her standard response to ANYTHING is "It's normal..It's normal." Yes, she's a free state pediatrician alrighty with the state employee attitude (meaning sit on her butt and collect her salary for doing nothing) to go along with it. Call a private pediatrician to make a house call? No, Dylan didn't seem particularly disturbed in any way and his mother wasn't too worried about it, so the idea of paying 100+ Euros for someone to make a house call and tell us he was OK was discarded. Here's where nonna stepped in and saved the day. She took a sprig of parsley (the stem not the leaf, obviously), dipped it in olive oil and put it up Dylan's butt and rooted around in there for a minute. Ten minutes later he pooped.

Breastfeeding update. Ding, dong my milk is gone. Well, it's not gone but I haven't breastfed at all in two days. My baby is growing up (sad face). Now it is up to Mother Nature to let him suckle at her busom and give him what he needs so he grows up big and strong. Today we try avocado. Here's where the sage comes in. I'm drinking a sage infusion twice a day to make my milk go away and little by little I'm beginning to see my B cups (yes, I've been wearing a D maternity bra!) come back into focus. I'm even able to sleep on my stomach now for the first time in over a year! I stopped giving Dylan the breast during the night about eight days ago and here's what happened. The first three nights he drank baby herbal tea and went right back to bed as if he had been breastfed. The fourth and fifth nights he refused the herbal tea and cried. But not for long and we comforted him and put him back to bed. The last three nights, he has slept all night. So take that, Babywise! No, I'm just kidding. I can't get too confident especially because we have a huge trip on the horizon. And teething.

Then there's the story of the stroller we bought for the U.S., which we can file into the "mom always knows best" category. The original idea had been to wait until we got to the U.S. to buy some kind of travel stroller since there is much more selection and things are way cheaper over there. We were going to carry Dylan through airports and on to the plane in the BabyBjorn. When I really got to thinking about it, I realized it was just a BAD idea. The kid weighs over 18 pounds. And we are going to have a ton of luggage. So I started hunting around for a stroller I liked here. I found one and we went to buy it. It was a funky turquoise color, which I wasn't crazy about, but it fit all of my criteria: compact, robust, able to be reclined enough so Dylan can sleep on the road. The girl in the shop told us that, unfortunately, she only had red back in the back unless we wanted the display. We didn't want the display and went for the red. This past weekend, Cristiano had the fabulous idea of bringing the stroller (at that point still in the box) to the beach so we could test it out. I told him, "Let's at least open the box because if there's something wrong with the stroller, we can take it back before we leave for the beach. Otherwise we get to the beach and we have no stroller." Of course, Cristiano kept it boxed up in the trunk of his car and did not take my advice. Guess what? We got to the beach, opened it up and it was not red but FUCHSIA. Yep, we had to push Dylan around all weekend in a hot pink stroller. Now I'm not one of those "boys play with trucks and girls play with dolls" kinds of moms, but I did find it annoying that people kept asking what my little girl's name was. I was convinced we'd never be able to take it back because stores here almost never let you return things - even if they are defective. But Cristiano went in, explained that he'd been in the doghouse all weekend with his wife and that he wouldn't want his son to grow up with a complex, yadda, yadda, yadda. He walked out with the turquoise display. Moral of the story: listen to mom.

Everyone's "favourite" boy

American mammas, lock up your daughters. Everyone's "favourite" boy will make his U.S. debut in two short weeks. Over here, he rolls three bambinas deep at all times.

Everyone's "favourite" boy wearing itsy bitsy European bathing suit while taking disco nap

Sara's "favourite" boy

Anita's "favourite" boy

Sophie's "favourite" boy

Identity crisis

Who am I? Who will I be? How will I live and which things will I prefer? Peanut butter or pasta? Coffee or caffè? A bagel or la michetta? Dinner at 6 p.m. or dinner at 9 p.m.? Out of the house at 18 or out of the house at 28+? Football or soccer? English or Italiano? Grandmas who kick a soccer ball around with me or nonne who dote on me and ply me with lasagna? Hugs or double kisses?

I'm official. U.S. birth certificate and passport in hand. I'm choking up...

So you say the American passport got to Italy in one week from the U.S. and the Italian passport got here in five weeks...from Italy? Is that what "bureaucracy" means, mommy?

Decisions, decisions...

Il Biondin

The Milanese call me "biondin," which means "little blondie." Here I am chilling on mom and dad's bed this morning.