A candle with the number three (and a black-and-blue toe) - Una candela con il numero tre (ed un dito livido)

It is that time of the year again. Time to look at how much Tronk has grown up and what has changed in one year. One year feels like a decade in the life of a toddler. Remember that kid that was scooting on top of the slide before he was able to slide down? That boy now jumps up and down in the street, pushes his little stool around the house to reach for things and wants to claim everything. One year ago, he wanted "grande tutu'" (big car), didn't want anything to do with legos, and his favorite line was "tanti tutu'!". Now, he wants cake with strawberries and candles to blow out, mussels in white wine and prosciutto crudo senza grasso (parma ham with the fat removed). He no longer relies on the soothing properties of the pacifier, he has learned to build forts with legos (and with whatever he finds in our bedroom) and "aspetta!" (wait!) is his favorite line. Nope, we haven't given up the diapers yet (so I still have an excuse to call him a baby). 

He no longer says "Tutui', Tutui'!" to tell me that he wants the penguin story. He now goes to pick a book himself, points at it, resolute, and says "questo!.." (this one!).  If the book happens to be a dictionary, nothing will change the decision. I will have to read that story. I used to skip a word or two, sometimes a page or two, in a book. Now, he spots every word, every comment I make, which is not written in the book, adds missing words and, at times, replaces existing ones with others he finds more appropriate. Tonight, he corrected the title of the book we were about to read. He said: "non il piccolo bruco, il grande bruco!" (not the little caterpillar, the big caterpillar!) He was quite right.

There are things that have not changed though. Tronk still smiles and flirts with strangers - he now does it with a two-minute long speech in his made up English language. And I still see people starring at him. Despite a few tantrums, here and there, he is still himself, my happy, laid back, sweet boy, with his good sense of humor. 

So, I was thinking, another year has flown away and time has come for throwing another party. What are we going to do?

I first imagined a Pimpa party. Pimpa is the white dog with the red spots in the picture below. For long time, it has been Tronk's favorite cartoon character.  

I imagined a table filled with red polka dots. Red polka dots on banners, decorations, dinnerware, cupcakes, balloons and even on our party favors. Simple: I'll put dots on everything! It turned out that the only available set of paper plates with red dots on white could only be shipped from Australia!

Resigned to the idea that Tronk's third birthday party would have been filled with either Francescos (from Cars), Elmos, or Sponge Bob, I gave up the idea of picking a theme. Not that I have anything against these breezy characters, but after seeing them at the children's store, on blankets, on Tronk's snot sucker, on his comb, on toothbrushes and, now even on his dirty diapers, I have started to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Then, blame it on John, who showed him the cartoon, but this is what Tronk has been saying over and over again, in the last week or so: "Miele, miele! Miele, miele!"  (Honey, honey! Honey, honey!) Three days ago, when I told Tronk that I was was about to put Pimpa on, for the first time, he complained, he asked me to remove it and made it clear that he wanted to watch Winnie The Pooh instead. He did the same yesterday.

So, whether I like it or not, Winnie the Pooh will lean on Tronk's third candle, be on Tronk's diaper and there will be other Winnie the Pooh characters hidden in the yard for Tronk and for his friends to find.

Why a black-and-blue toe? Oh, basically, I have just re-injured my foot. I didn't want to make another posting all about my foot but a metal spoon dropped on the toe I damaged before Christmas - remember? - it is hard to believe and to forget. So today, while I was keeping my foot up with ice on top, I was feeling down.

Later, Tronk came to me and said: "Mamma, non ti preoccupare, ci sono qua io. Andra' tutto bene" (Mommy, do not worry, I am here with you. It will all be all right) Just the words I needed to hear to feel better.

Italian School (Pre-K-12) in Boston/Cambridge - Scuola Italiana (Asilo-Liceo) a Boston/Cambridge.

"It is never too late".

I wish William could learn to speak Italian. I really hope that one day he will be able to understand his Italian roots, unlike the many Italian-Americans I meet regularly, who cannot speak Italian and who know Italy only through the cinema and the internet. As a result, I will do everything I can possibly do to help William and his friends, the members of my group, the Boston Bambino Club, to learn Italian and to learn about Italian culture.

Tufts Professor Calvin Gidney said that bilingual children, outperform the non bilingual ones in the following skills:

• Improved Working Memory
• Quicker Response Time in Solving Complex Tasks
• Enhanced Executive Functioning
• Decreased Susceptibility to Age-Associated Deterioration.

However, he stressed a few times that the children who truly become bilingual, are the ones who have had the opportunity to learn the second language in a variety of contexts (e.g., social, schoolwork, sports, current events). As a result, they tend to be either (1) children who went to a school with an immersion program in the second language, or (2) those who had the opportunity to live, for extended periods in the country of the second language. This is not possible for many of us.

If you (or any of your friends) would like to enroll your children in an Italian immersion school (e.g http://www.lascuoladitalia.org) in the Boston/Cambridge area, please speak up and sign the petition at the link below:

Change.org|Start an Online Petition

Thank you for your support.
Enrica

Who said that men and women are equal? - Chi ha parlato di parita' tra uomini e donne?

Men and women are equal and have equal opportunities. Yeah, sure. Only a career woman obsessively chasing her dream job could come up with such a lie. Really.

Bullshit. Men and women are NOT equal. At least equality isn't true for most women. As a friend often said to me in London, women, whether they like it or not, are made to have (and raise) babies. Having and raising children should become their top priority, whether they like it or not. I remember my friend saying: "Don't kill yourself with work. You are a girl! Come out with us. Do what the girls do! Sorry to disappoint you but, whether you like it or not, women are made to experience the joy of (or bear the cross of) motherhood! Because, sooner or later, it'll come".

Then the words of my first landlord, a Turkish woman in her fifties with long dark hair, come to my mind. "Don't waste your time studying. One day, you'll meet a nice man and that's it. You'll have a bambino and all your efforts, gone! " I remember trying not to laugh at her. What a backward, sexist, narrow-minded loser.

Yet last night, those remarks were haunting me. I could not let them go.

Yesterday, I went to see my gynecologist and soon after I found myself in such excruciating pain I couldn't breathe. They gave me the highest dosage of Motrin allowed and it still took an hour for my cramps to subside enough so that I could leave the examination room. No, I am not pregnant with a second child, no. Three months after I gave birth to William, in order to avoid unexpected children, the gynecologist persuaded me (with all the good things she said) to have an IUD put in place... Yes, the one with hormones. The alternative choices would have been (1) go back to the unbearable devastating side-effects of the past birth control methods I used, or  (2) accept the risk that I might become pregnant again and resign myself to the idea that my London friend is right - women are made to have and raise children, whether they like it or not.

Although there were only few problems for the first two years - I felt like a girl who had just discovered condoms!, the IUD has turned out to be worse than any of the other birth control methods I have used in the past. Recently, I have even come to believe that it has played a role in my difficulties in walking (this morning, I was limping, while I was preparing Tronk's breakfast) and the mysterious swelling in my extremities. So I went to see the gynecologist to ask her to have it removed, once and for all.

So yesterday, after screaming several times while the gynecologist was trying hard to remove the damned thing, each time without the slightest hint of success, I finally had to settle with cramps up to my throat and with a half a smile on her face, while she was making her conclusive comment: 

"I am sorry to have to tell you this, but another option could be to take you up to the 8th floor to have it removed in the surgery while you are asleep. Sorry, but I don't know what else to do". On that same day, I had just finished reading a list of horror stories, written by women, on this particular worse case scenario.

And then... they say that women are equal to men?

Recently Overheard - Origliato Di Recente

Overhead today, while Tronk, who is not three yet, was playing:

- Si accende il motore ed il trenino va di felicita'! (The engine starts running and the little train goes out of happiness!)

- Ecco, e' il motore che va, ed e' pieno di felicita'! (Here it is, it is the engine that is running, and it is filled with happiness!)

- Ascolta! Tu metti l'aragosta nell'acqua bollente e non si muove piu'! (Listen! You put the lobster in the water boiling and it'll stop moving)

- Questa e' la rana che salta nella fontana perche' fa caldo! (This is the frog that jumps in the fountain cause it's hot!)

I had to remove the other lines from this page as they were censored.

When I go to the bathroom I think of you - Quando vado al bagno penso a te

The summer has finally come, a bit more English weather than usual, but that's OK. I imagined lazy days, but I am already tired of potty training. This morning I was close to throwing the potty out of the window! (Naples style). Really. 

What depresses me is the amount of time I have spent in the toilet (please don't tell me I should call it restroom!) since 2010 and the little success I have had. Remember this posting? I started the potty training when he was 18 months old. No kidding. Initially, I was able to get him to successfully poop once a day. Later, he was having his long wee every morning. The potty training was going fine. Then something happened.

Last winter, I had to take a break from it to avoid falling with my glamorous boot on a bunch of poop while I was cleaning the potty. I then restarted the potty training in spring thinking we'd pick up where we had left off. Bad idea. In spring, not only Tronk was no longer able to tell me when he needed to go (his adorable "poop face" was gone), but also he no longer wanted to have anything to do with the potty.

So I went from singing "mi scappa la pipi' papa'" (I need to go for a wee daddy) to reading stories on animals crapping, to telling Tronk that if he doesn't learn to pee in the toilet he will no longer be able to play soccer. I was hoping that the situation would improve. It hasn't. It has gotten worse and I feel I am starting to go mental (sto per sclerare).

This morning, after spending more than 15 minutes playing with the potty, he finally decided to pee in his diaper while eating cereal. After that, I gave him a large glass of water and left him naked in the house - for three hours. For three hours he whined while he played on the large purple plastic tarp that we normally use for messy activities. No signs that he needed to go to the toilet. Then lunch came and I put him in a pull up diaper. He figured that time had come to let go and there was pee all over the chair.

Tronk is turning three in a month and I have decided that I have had enough with the potty training. He either figures it out by himself or he will go to college wrapped in a diaper!

Birthday Weekend in Cape Cod - Compleanno a Cape Cod

What I mostly wanted for my birthday was to get on the road and go to the sea, swim in a heated pool, browse through arty things in cute stores, eat raw seafood, feel the heat of the sun on my arms, drink beer and chill out with a Nikon in my hands. My wish came true.

After managing to get through the night despite the constant interruptions of a very angry toddler asking me to wipe his nose all night long - John is away on a business trip so throughout the night I was the only one on call - as soon as I woke up this morning I posted the photos below and looked at them with a dark cup of PG tips in my hand. Funny how caffeine and a bunch of pictures can brighten up one's day!

Tronk is now begging me to take him back to the green house and I am already dreaming of building one for Tronk in our back yard. We'll see what John will have to say on this. Ugh

Tronk's Favorite Lullaby is in English - La Ninna Nanna Preferita di William e' in Inglese

Tronk has made it very clear. It happens every night and I have to accept it. The last song he wants to hear before he goes to bed, despite all the ninna nanne (Italian lullabies) I made him listen to, is not an Italian song. Nope, it is an English one. The song is Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. John is convinced that he doesn't understand what it means because the song is in English and Tronk, until now, has only learned to speak Italian. But this time I have to disagree with him, for the following reason.

I used to sing to Tronk the Italian version. He knew the meaning of the words but he wasn't too keen on it. Then, one day he heard the original version in English from his dad and from that day on he rejected the Italian version and, subsequently, all the ninna nanne I used to sing to him when he was a baby had no chance. Now, no matter what ninna nanna I sing to him, Twinkle Twinkle (that's how he calls it) is the only lullaby Tronk wants to hear.

Italian Version Brilla brilla mia stellina Ogni sera sei vicina Lassu' in cielo brillera' Un gioiello sembrera' Brilla brilla mia stellina E sei sempre piu' carina.

English Version      Twinkle, twinkle, little star,      How I wonder what you are.      Up above the world so high,       Like a diamond in the sky.       Twinkle, twinkle, little star.         How I wonder what you are.

I don't blame him. Did you see how the two versions compare against each other? The English lyrics are from an early nineteenth-century English poem, "The Star", which was written by a poetess, Jane Taylor, who was fascinated by the look of a star. The Italian version is a fake, an attempt to translate the English version into Italian, which fails miserably in the last phrase: E sei sempre piu' carina. Literally, it means, "And you are nicer every day", which sounds more like the improvised comment of a nanny than poetry. It's a bad fake and Tronk spotted it!

More recently, Tronk has learned to sing Twinkle Twinkle. You can watch one of his public performances below. He learned this phonetically... as you might gather by the way he pronounces sky as skype - Yes, the computer software that he uses to talk to Nonni, grandma and grandpa.

So, every evening, when Tronk and I reach the last word of the last book we decide to read at bedtime, every time, I say to him "buonanotte tesoro, sogni d'oro, ti amo" (goodnight my little treasure, sweet dreams, I love you)  and I sullenly leave his room, with my head lowered, staring at my feet. I then call John and ask him to go to his room to sing the English lullaby.

I really cannot blame him for preferring the English lullabies to the Italian ninna nanne. The latter are closer to somber songs and laments expressing mourning or grief than to nursery rhymes for soothing babies! In most cases, they either talk about the hard labor of mothers, the weight that they have to bear in looking after their babies, or are about mothers threatening to give their babies away to witches, wolves or saints if the babies don't fall asleep. To not mention the ones filled with tragedies such as the black bird losing his wings, then one eye, then the other eye and so on. I spare you the lullabies with unclear sexual innuendo. The words in the Italian ninna nanne seem to come from the selfish needs of the Italian mothers to get through the day and make their child sleep while everyone else is free. Surely, there must be Italian lullabies that are not so heavy and so depressing!

I searched through Tronk's books and I did some research on the web. I am afraid the closest correspondent to the upbeat Little Star that I used to sing to William is Stella Stellina (Star, Little Star), which brings a bunch of animals into the picture. Not so cheerful, as you can see below.

Italian Version Stella stellina la notte si avvicina la fiamma traballa la mucca è nella stalla la mucca e il vitello la pecora e l'agnello la chioccia ed il pulcino          ognuno ha il suo bambino ognuno ha la sua mamma e tutti fan la nanna.

English Version  Star, little star,  the night is approaching.  the fire is dying  the cow is in the barn  the cow and the calf  the sheep and the lamb  the hen  with the chick  each and everyone has his child  each and everyone has his mom  and everyone goes to sleep.

No wonder Tronk said "basta" (enough) and gave his preference to a well written (and lighthearted) English poem.

UPDATE ON JULY 6:

In the last week or so, Tronk has added one bedtime request to his usual repertoire. He now pretends that I stay in his room for one more lullaby. This time, luckily, the song is in Italian. The only problem is that Tronk is usually the only one who knows what is about, until tonight.

Tonight, just before I closed his bedroom door, Tronk sang this to me:

Original Version in Italian Dormi, Dormi mia bella mamma con la mia fronte in mano Non andare a farti la bua  Vieni, vieni qui con me.

English Translation      Sleep, sleep, my beautiful mom,      with my forehead in your hand      Do not go to get a boo-boo      Come here, come here with me.      .

That song he sang, at the end of a long tiring day, is worth one million hugs. Thanks Tronk for making my job as a mother so worth it.