Dylan's first town festival

There has been lots going on but Dylan has been incredibly sniffly and not overly photogenic. He's waking up many, many times a night but the poor guy can't breathe, so what are you going to do? This weekend was our town's festival to celebrate the patron saint. We call him "Saint Moritz" in the French just to make our town sound swankier as the full name of our town in English is "Saint Maurice on the River." Swanky is not an adjective I'd normally use to describe our town. Just to put it in context, the Redbeards called the place "nest of evil" when they conquered it back in the 1150s and the name stuck for many years. When Cristiano moved here when he was about 10, he got punched in the nose on his first day out to play with the neighborhood kids. And he moved here from the big, bad city and had considered this place, which is a mile outside Milan city limits, "the country." . Here are some pictures of us around town on a sunny Sunday.

Papi and Dylan on our street

Dylan watching us eat a funnel cake and not offer him any

The town church where Dylan may be baptized if we ever decide whether to baptize him or not

In an exciting and unexpected development, my gym has been chosen by the Indesit company (they make home appliances here) to test out their washers and dryers! Gym members can use the washers and dryers for free while they work out. The next time I go to the gym, I'm going to bring a wet load of laundry and see how the dryer works. An added incentive to continue to try to work off this baby weight! Check out the new "Laundrette" they set up in my fantastic gym!

What a sucker!

When I was pregnant, I asked mammas around here if there was anything I absolutely had to have for the baby and they all told me the same thing: Narhinel. Apparently it is a product that is only recently available in Italy and before you had to go to Switzerland to get it. When I asked what it was, I was told it was a "nasal aspirator." Huh? Basically because babies can't blow their own noses, when they get congested, you've got to do the dirty work. Narhinel is a long tube with disposable nozzle tips that you put in the babies nostrils to "suck" all of the icky stuff out (just for the record, the icky stuff doesn't go into your mouth - there's a stopper thingie that blocks that from happening). I had no idea how American babies got their nostrils clean but I figured that this "nasal aspirator" thing was some innovative European product. Lately, I've been using it a ton as Dylan has had a cold and a stuffed up nose.

Just on a whim, today I Googled "nasal aspirator" to see if anything would come up and, duh, it does exist in the U.S. but it's either electric or battery-powered, of course! And here I thought I was on the cutting edge. So up until a couple of years ago, Italian mammas had to make a run for the border just to get their hands on this stupid overpriced plastic tube while American mammas were happily choosing from a wide selection of electric nasal aspirators at their local Target. Figures...

The Cadillac of drying racks!

If my whole laundry saga bores you, you can skip this post. Just go back to your cup of tea and your magazine while you wait a whole 35 minutes for your clothes to tumble dry. I'll be thinking about you fondly in the dead of January when I'm on the balcony trying not to slip on ice and hanging things out with my frozen fingers!

This weekend I finally convinced Cristiano that we needed a second drying rack to take on the long cold winter ahead. He didn't want to get a second one because he said our apartment is too small and it makes him "nervous" to see laundry hanging in, say, the living room. It makes me nervous when I have no pajamas for Dylan or jeans to wear because they are all dirty! So the compromise is that one drying rack stays out on the balcony at all times even when it's really cold. That seems fair. Lest you think Cristiano is one of those Italian men who doesn't do laundry, it's not true.

The problem is that I don't like his laundry hanging style - he doesn't leave enough room for air to pass between the slats for my taste, and he says things like "It's simple physics" to describe his strategy. I don't care if he has Stephen Hawking and a plethora of mathematical formulas on his side. When he hangs out the laundry, it takes twice as long to dry and the stuff comes out wrinklier. So he doesn't touch the drying rack anymore.

Now I have my new fantastic drying rack where I can even hang sheets and blankets! I'm calling it the "Cadillac" of drying racks but, in fact, it's really only mid-range. We paid 49 Euros and we saw drying racks that cost upwards of 200 Euros. Unless they iron, fold and put away too, I can't justify 200 Euros on a drying rack.

Never fear, though. I'm sure the crowdpleasing frozen clothes pins will still make an occasional appearance. I mean, even in the winter, jeans take three days to dry in the house and come out like cardboard.

The drying rack just "hanging out" in Dylan's room...

A trial run with a small-ish load of whites!

Where did our baby go?

The other night Cristiano said, "Where did our baby go? Dylan isn't a baby anymore." It's true. He's not. He isn't quite a toddler but he's not the sweet little creature content to stare adoringly up into mommy's eyes for hours on end he was a few months ago. I am seeing the early signs of what temper tantrums will be like. Diaper changes have turned into major battles. And just try putting a jacket on this kid. When I ask for a kiss, he usually gives me a slap. A hard slap that actually hurts. He pulls hair. He kicks his legs at you. He grunts angrily when he doesn't want to do something or when you've stopped him from, say, diving head first off the couch. I've been head butted countless times this week. OK, the first five months weren't exactly enjoyable as I was sleep-deprived and loca not exactly myself. Then there were three months of enjoyable mommy-baby bonding where Dylan was super mellow and happy all the time. Is this all we get? I know this is the period of major exploration where it's his job to get into everything and our job to trail behind him constantly saying "no," "don't touch that" and "that's hot," etc. but I just thought the whole sweet baby thing would last longer. I guess this is what people mean when they say that they grow up so fast. We love Dylan to pieces and can't imagine life without him but lately he's less CiccioBello and more...

L'Erbavoglio

Today we went to Dylan's first play group at L'Erbavoglio, which is a community center for kids up to three years old. The name "L'Erbavoglio" means "want grass" or "want plant" and it comes from an Italian expression that says "'Want grass' doesn't even grow in the king's garden," and it's a way to teach kids to say "I would like" instead of "I want." Capisci? It reminds me of in elementary school when the teachers used to say "You CAN go to the bathroom but you MAY not." Different situation but same idea.

Two-and-a-half hours of playing during what would normally be Dylan's nap time completely wore him out. But he had a great time. It was also good for me to have some face time with the other mammas, and I think it's absolutely necessary for me to survive here as a mother. Seeing as though I don't always have a pediatrician I can call, and I'm not really sure how things work here much of the time, it's all that more important for me to be looped into the mommy network. During pregnancy I just kind of gave up trying to figure things out and found myself feeling confused and helpless much of the time. I realized that that was a huge mistake and that "knowledge is power," and now I'm going to master this mamma thing even if I have to be the leader of the pack.

Pediatricians and teachers watch out. SuperEmpoweredMamma is going to be the biggest thorn in your side! "Buongiorno, Mr. School Principal. Italian penal code 4,000,238, section 175 says that schools should supply toilet paper and parents shouldn't have to bring it so I fully expect there to be toilet paper in the bathrooms by next week!" Or we'll just move back to the U.S. before Dylan even gets to school. That'd be easier. If the economy doesn't crumble, that is.

But I digress. Below are some photos:

"Man, it'd be cool if we could fill the bathtub up with these!"

Snack time over. Back to playing

Our bud Enea from neonatal massage class. Born two days after Dylan. "How about that teething. No fun, right?"

Who are you calling Ciccio?

I can't walk two steps down the street with Dylan in his stroller without someone stopping us and saying, "Ohmigod, he looks just like CiccioBello!" It's been this way since the day we came home from the hospital. CiccioBello is a famous doll here that cries and pees just like a real baby. I remember Luana getting one for Christmas one year. "Ciccio" is a nickname and term of endearment in Italian but it also sounds a bit too much to me like "ciccione," which means chubby. So I'm not enjoying the CiccioBello comparisons. Dylan and Ciccio - separated at birth? You be the judge...

End of the co-sleeping era

We thought we could just stop whenever we wanted to....

Never works that way, does it? No, it doesn't. Dylan had begun sleeping with us out of necessity during our trip in the U.S. And then teething kicked into full gear. It was just so easy to pluck him out of his bed in the middle of the night when he was crying and put him into ours. No, it didn't fit in with my WWTBWD (that is "What Would The Baby Whisperer Do?") mothering philosophy but what was the harm? He stopped crying immediately. He slept until morning, and it was just so sweet to see him slumbering peacefully in the middle of our bed. Sometimes he'd snuggle up and put a tiny little arm around me. We were all snug as a bug and happy.

Then little by little, he began turning into a co-sleeping monster. He could no longer go to bed at night in his own bed so one of us would have to leave the dinner table and go lie next to him in our bed until he fell asleep. We knew it was bad. But we thought, "It'll only take 20 minutes, so what's the big deal..." Then when he fell asleep, we'd transfer him into his own bed. Until he woke up in the middle of the night. For a while, he'd wake around 5 a.m. and we'd put him in our bed. Then it was 4 a.m., then 2 a.m., then midnight. So basically he was sleeping in our bed all night. And had begun making demands. He was no longer the slumbering angel taking up a postage-stamp piece of bed. He'd grunt if the TV volume was too loud, so we'd have to turn it off. He'd make a nasty face if mom's bedside lamp was disturbing him so she'd have to stop reading before bed. I was just waiting for him to start complaining about thread count. He'd thrash around and kick until he had the entire middle of the bed and Cristiano and I were falling off the edges with no sheet or blanket. And getting kicked all night. And no sleep.

I'm afraid to say that the family bed is no more. Dylan has been exiled to his own bed. It hasn't been easy for us either. He didn't fuss or whine or really cry. He actually seemed more pissed off, and I think he's holding a grudge. He's not his usual happy-go-lucky self these days. I hope he gets over it soon.

P.S. In my continued efforts to innovate on my blog, I'm adding a new feature. When you see the frozen clothes pins symbol on the lower left of the page, it means I'm having a bad laundry day and waiting, waiting and waiting for things to dry. Fall is here and there's a chill in the air today. Too bad Dylan vomited on a down comforter.

If you are undecided...

Dylan is your man. Fully vetted by mom. No skeletons in his closet unless you count the five months of torturing his parents during the whole colic-never-sleeping-crying-all-the-time-diarrhea-so-explosive-no-diaper-could-contain-it period. We can "spin" that if need be. Maybe sell it as determination or stamina or staying power. If he'd sit still for a second, you'd see his shirt says "Vote Baby for President." But he doesn't sit still now. Ever. So you'll have to take my word for it.

He started crawling overnight and now he is in to EVERYTHING. Trying to pull the curtains down, attempting to open cabinets, wanting to leap off of the changing table. It is officially time to baby-proof.

Mother's little helper

babyeinstein
Originally uploaded by michellanea

And, no, in this case, it's not Valium.

This morning we had Dylan's pediatrician visit. He weighs over 20 pounds and is one healthy hunk of little man. She told me that when he cries for more food, I can give it to him. Fruits, vegetables and carbs, that is. She said to not overload him with meat or dairy.

Speaking of pediatricians, most do not recommend TV watching for children under the age of 2. So if you watch the video, keep my secret to yourself...

Dylan's first bowl of pasta!

This may not seem like a big deal, people, but we are in Italy. When he hangs out with other Italian kids, he's not going to say, "Hey, guys, you should taste my mom's seitan casserole. It's great!" Oh, no, when Italians get together - even Italian children - it's a pissing contest to see whose mamma is the best cook of all things Italian. I've heard Italians fighting over whose mom makes the best tomato sauce because one puts a tiny bit of carrot (supposed secret ingredient of many mammas) or another puts a pinch of sugar. I mean they can talk about this stuff for hours. One day I saw some kids coming out of a middle school and one kid said, "Why don't we go to McDonald's?" and another kid said "No, let's go to my house. My mamma will make us pasta!" and all the kids screamed "Yeah!" in unison and scurried toward their little friend's house. Now, that's weird. When I was 13, I would have taken McDonald's any day over anything my mom cooked at home. Sorry, mom.

All this is to say I've been waiting expectantly to give Dylan his first bowl of pasta. The pediatrican told me I could introduce tomato at seven months even though I've read pretty much everywhere else to wait until ten months or so. I'm going to wait on the tomato. Well, yesterday I had the brilliant idea to make a carrot pasta sauce with a tiny bit of shallot. Yes, a shallot. I mean, I want Dylan to be as much of a gluttonous pig foodie as his father and I, so I think it's important that his food taste good as well as be nutritious. I boiled up some heart-shaped baby pasta, added the carrot sauce, a bit of parmesan and, of course, some baby extra-virgin olive oil with vitamins A, D and E. He loved his first bowl of pasta and as soon as he can talk I fully expect him to be duking it out with the kids on the playground over whether his American mamma can rustle up a good bowl of pasta. Or will he prefer the Value Meal with Supersized fries and drink? With my luck, he's going to be a fast food junkie and all of this time spent making my own organic baby food with macrobiotic condiments (yes, I grind toasted sesame seeds in a mortar and pestle to make gomashio for my eight-month-old and, no, I am not normal) is going to be for nothing.

Man, am I loquacious. All I wanted to do was post a few pics of Dylan's first pasta meal!

The all-important ingredients

Let me touch it...

The consistency is a little funky but I'll eat it...

More standing!

standing2
Originally uploaded by michellanea

I'm a proud mamma and I just can't help myself. Here's a video of Dylan standing. OK, this video is not the best example of him standing but he looks so damn cute. He's making one of his newer faces. What I call the "sour lemon face." We aren't sure how that came about...

Progress

Oh, it's the little things that make me happy. I've been trying to make Dylan's eight-month check-up appointment with the pediatrician for more than a week now. When I call, the phone is always busy. Yesterday I began my morning as usual with marathon calling sessions (kind of like back in junior high when we'd try to call the radio station to win concert tickets - same deal) to find that now the pediatrician has...voicemail. Wow, welcome to the 1990s! I left a message and actually got a call back at 5 p.m. last night. She even apologized for calling back so late. So we have our appointment set up for this Friday. Warms this American mamma's heart to see Dylan's pediatrician embracing new-ish technologies and doing things efficiently (OK, "efficiently" would include having a receptionist or answering service to actually answer the phone but I'll take what I can get). Have I ever mentioned that the bathroom in his pediatrician's office has a big sign that says not to let kids go in there alone for fear they may touch the exposed wires or flame of the boiler? I mean, I am happy there's an actual bathroom (my doctor's office does not have one) but maybe they could fix that whole exposed wire thing or enclose the boiler. Just an idea!

In other "progress" news, Dylan is standing. He stands on his own holding on to something or with a little help when he can't support himself. Here are a couple of pics. Papi was there, of course, to catch him when he fell.

Just let me go!

OK, I may need some help...

How does he do it?

movingabout
Originally uploaded by michellanea

A video from this morning. He was sitting where the Boppy is in the far left corner of the blanket. I left the room for two seconds, came back and he was here. He's not crawling so I think it's a combination of rolling and "slinking."

Dylan at almost eight months

Things are getting really fun! I love this age. Here's an update on Il Dylan (pronounced "Eeel D-Lawn" in Italian):

1) He just got his second tooth. He got his first tooth while we were on the road in the U.S. so I didn't make a big deal of it on the blog. Teething has been a bit frustrating, and it's hard to watch our little guy suffer. I've been making baby popsicles for him in an ice cube tray with diluted baby apple juice and letting him suck on those in his Baby Safe Feeder. That seems to help a bit.

2) We've gotten in the bad habit of putting him in our bed when he cries in the night. No, the Baby Whisperer would not approve. Between teething, traveling and jet lag, Dylan has gotten a taste for sleeping in between mom and dad. Coming into our bed quiets him right away, we all go back to sleep and everyone's happy. There's nothing better than waking up in the morning with a tiny little hand resting on my back. And here's the thing. He doesn't even have morning breath either! Cristiano made the point that it's because he has no teeth (well aside from the two little snaggly ones that don't serve much purpose). Now I know why they talk about baby's breath. It's sweet even in the morning! Are we going to pay for doing the whole co-sleeping/family bed thing later? We shall see...

3) There is no crawling going on and we have a feeling he is not going to crawl. He sits and stands (assisted, of course) really well. But he doesn't crawl. He tries really hard to crawl and then gets worn out and puts his head down. But he doesn't give up and never gets frustrated. Now that's tenacity!

4) He babbles constantly and truly believes he's having a conversation with you. We respond back in kind. He says "ma ma" and "da da" but how can we be sure he's really talking to us? So far I'm skeptical as he also says "ta ta" and "na na" a lot. Luana is convinced that he calls her "ta ta" (which means nanny/babysitter in Italian). If you ask him, "Where is ma ma?" he looks for me. Or will smile bashfully when you say "ma ma." But does he really call out to me yet? I'm not so sure. It's more than gibberish but it's not quite spoken language - in either language just yet.

5) This kid eats EVERYTHING and cries when the food is all gone. I feel like I spend all day either feeding him or preparing the next snack or meal. But his weight has remained pretty stable at around 20 pounds. He's not really gaining anything. I want to ask his pediatrician at the next appointment if that's normal. I'm sure she will blow me off with "It's fine. It's fine" as that is what she says about everything. With a nice eye roll as if to say "These annoying parents with all of their stupid questions...". Maybe she should have pursued another profession. Like working in the Italian post office where she'd really have a chance to share her misanthropy with the masses. All this is provided I get the next appointment. I tried calling for two hours this morning (the two hours during the week days during which she keeps her phone on for asking questions or making appointments - she doesn't do emergencies or weekends) and it was always busy. And she has no voice mail! Have I mentioned I am not a fan of Dylan's pediatrician?

6) Separation anxiety comes and goes. Some days it is really bad and he flips out when either I or Cristiano leave his line of vision. Other days we leave and he couldn't care less.

7) He loves to play. When he isn't eating, he's playing. He'll play with anything and everything from the remote control to the computer mouse. He especially loves electronics.

All in all, he's a joy and we are one big happy famiglia!

On food...again

I spent a month in the U.S. without anyone asking me what Dylan eats (or giving me unsolicited advice on anything baby related). No such luck now that we are back in Italy. I think I was waiting for my baggage in Malpensa airport after our return flight when the first person inquired how old Dylan was and if he'd already begun eating pasta, prosciutto, fish or yogurt. The answer was no, no, no and no. We left for the U.S. when Dylan was only six-and-a-half months old, so while in the U.S., I kept him on what there are called the "first foods. " Things, such as sweet potatoes, green beans, zucchini and peas mixed with rice or oat cereal and apples, pears or bananas for dessert. I really didn't want to begin introducing a lot of new things while we were far from home and far from his (much despised) pediatrician. Before leaving for the U.S., she had given me a list of what he could eat and when but I barely glanced at it because I knew I wasn't going to introduce anything new on the road.

Since we've been back, I get almost daily questions about what he's eating, even from strangers. "Why hasn't he had cod yet?" or "When is he going to eat ricotta cheese? He's almost eight months old!" Now that I've taken a good look at the list the pediatrician gave me, I realize that I am not going to follow it to the letter anyway. Pasta al pomodoro is recommended at seven months! Personally I wanted to wait until at least nine or ten months to introduce tomato. I compromised and added a bit of baby pasta to his lentil soup for lunch today. I'm also tired of people asking me disapprovingly if I'm going to raise him vegan. Just because he doesn't eat meat and dairy at every meal, I am not enforcing a vegan diet. He has had tastes of prosciutto cotto, yogurt, chicken, turkey, parmesan cheese and crescenza cheese but I don't think he needs to eat those things at every meal or even every day if he's getting all of his dietary needs met in other ways. If Dylan grows up here, I think his eating habits will be under constant scrutiny because he has a foreign mother (a vegan no less!) and not just because I will send organic peanut butter celery sticks instead of a Nutella sandwich for his school snack. It gets tiring...