Two Worlds

Finally, the sun was shining in Ischia and we could go outside. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

During the winter in the States, my niece would always stand by the door or window and say, “Outside.” She wanted us to take her outside like we used to when the weather was nice and warm. I would explain that it was too cold and it became dark earlier than it had during the summer and early fall, and we couldn’t go outside. And she would respond, “Outside.” I’d explain again, and she again would say, “Outside.” I think you can imagine how the next hour would be for us. Well, for the entire time we were in Ischia, Enzo and I were up at the window, saying, “Outside.” We couldn’t go outside either. It was raining, cold, damp – one big mess. But last weekend, the stars aligned and Antonio did not have to work and the sun was shining long enough for us to take a couple of walks. It still wasn’t hot, but lovely enough to finally go “outside.” Join us on our walks outside by clicking on the photo album, “Outside in Ischia.”

Week three also brought a big milestone. Enzo said his first word – papa’. We thought it might be a fluke, but he has said it a million times since. He says it every time he’s crying and annoyed that mamma is trying to change his diaper or clothes. Most of the time, he yells it. Papaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa’! My husband is thrilled, but you can imagine how I feel about it.

Our laundry air dries outside in Ischia. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

Here in Italy, women take laundry to a new level. I have always considered myself capable. I know how to use a washing machine and detergent. Since my son was born, I have been dealing with milk, poop, urine, and baby food stains with a little bit of Oxy-Clean or some brown soap. I can work a little magic. But these Italian ladies never put their clothes in a drier, wash many things, including delicates, certain sweaters, comforters, and the like, by hand. And they know every product – heavy duty stain removers, special fabric softeners for different kinds of fabric, fabric stiffeners for shirt collars, you name it. If it rains while laundry is out to dry, they run outside like wildfire and get everything down and under cover in seconds. If there was an Olympic game for this, they’d win hands down.

When the laundry is all dry and inside, they iron it. They iron everything – underwear, sheets, even rags. Their irons look like something from another planet. They have a big box under the iron plate, which you fill with water to make steam. They are industrial sized, and they sell special furniture to contain all their ironing equipment – the ironing board, fabric sprays, a tray or two to put folded clothes that have been completed. When it is closed, this furniture looks like a small pantry or cabinet. When their work is complete, these clothes look like they are ready to go on sale at the GAP. They are perfectly folded or on a hanger chic and fabulous. Meanwhile, my laundry is in a pile on the bed after I bring it in from outside here in Ischia, and I fold it as quickly as possible. And I almost never use my professional iron or the piece of furniture for ironing. It looks great with my runner on it, and we have put some pretty candles on display on top of it. I guess I have learned the art of laundry, but I’m not practicing the art of laundry – at least not yet.

Jaci with the kids © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

We’ve been in Italy two weeks now, and Enzo seems to be having fun despite a rash on his back and bottom, a lack of sleep, and a disheveled mamma, who he may or may not recognize. He does, however, seem to miss everyone back home, especially Aunt Jaci and Maria, with whom he spent lots of his time during his first six months. Of course, he misses Nonno Pasquale, Nonna Regina, Zio Giovanni, and the rest of the gang in America, too. But Maria and Baby D in Aunt Jaci’s belly are his best playmates since they are closest to his age and size. He’s bummed he will be missing Baby D’s entrance into the world. I can tell. Still, I’m sure Enzo and Baby D – and Maria for that matter – will make up for lost time and get into all kinds of mischief together. We have plenty of time for that. I’m also certain Enzo will have big smiles for them whenever we see them all in person next because he sure has them for everyone here. (In honor of our nostalgia for home, I have put together a photo album featuring our American family. Check out “Enzo in America” to see what we did just before we came to Italy.)

Today, I can sing a new song to Enzo, “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old mamma is snoring/She went to bed with a bump on her head and she couldn’t wake up in the morning.” It’s been raining and cold here for a week straight. It’s so cold that you don’t want to get naked to put on your pajamas, and the toilet seat in the bathroom feels like an ice cube on your bum. I wear two sets of pajamas (one of which is made entirely of fleece) and two pairs of socks to bed every night. My scarf has become my favorite accessory while my pals in the States are already in summer gear. Ugh! And yesterday, after a night of zero sleep and an onslaught of three deadlines, some of which I am still completing, I accidentally slammed my head into the corner of one of the kitchen cabinets here. I have a rather large bump on my head and a raging headache. Thank God I bring Advil with me wherever I go.

Come to think of it, my head has had lots of woes lately. This week also marked Enzo’s first poop bomb in Italy. It was fabulous. I pulled his pants off and didn’t realize a mountain of poop fell out of his pant leg. Enzo sat in this pile, smacked his hands down in it as if it was a fluffy pillow, and then smeared it in my hair. Then, I had to carry him naked with a bottom brown with poop all the way to the other side of the house, where he takes his baths. My sisters-in-law proceeded to help me wash him a bit earlier than usual. It wasn’t until later that evening that Antonio was sitting next to me talking when he jumped back in his chair with disgust and shouted, “You have poop in your hair.” It sounded more elegant in Italian, by the way. I didn’t realize the baby had put it in my hair. I had to take my second shower of the day, and now Antonio finds it hilarious to tell me about a stunning new invention – hair gel, which he says works better than poop. I may never live this one down, folks.

Baby boy dries off after bath time. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

I’m not sure if baby boy is saying ciao or fight the power in this photo. It is kind of hard to tell when he’s taking a bath and just afterward. He’s one great baby, except for two flaws. He doesn’t sleep at night, and he is constantly trying to run away from us. He is now crawling, both on his belly army style and on all fours. Whenever I get his diaper off and try to change him, he quickly rolls over onto his belly and takes off naked across the bed, on the changing table (which is more than terrifying), and on the floor. I have had to learn to put on a diaper and all his clothes, while he’s crawling. This is no easy task. He pulls these same shenanigans after his bath, but since he always has an audience at bath time – namely his cousins and aunts – there is always someone to help hold him down and keep him from falling.

What I’ve learned in the last week is that you can diaper a baby who is in motion and on his belly by wrapping the diaper around his bottom and then lifting his legs to slide the front of the diaper into position. Then, you just have to adhere the adhesive from behind. It’s easier to pick him up and have someone else slip on his pants and socks. If no one is around, pick him up, sit him on your lap and put his shoulders under your arms to hold him down while you put on his clothes. Finally, when you must, catch him by at least one leg, so he doesn’t fall and hit the ground. I had to do this on Pasquetta as Baby Boy nearly crawled off the bed while I was changing him. Suddenly, parenting and heart attacks were synonymous!

Enzo dressed in his Sunday finest on Easter. © Photo by Francesca Di Meglio

So, my husband and I finally arrived in Ischia, Italy on April 1. We brought our baby boy, at just six months old, to meet his Italian family. Despite the first hour on the plane in which baby boy had a meltdown and thoroughly annoyed the people sitting behind us, the rest of the trip was cake compared to what I had imagined. Now that we’ve been here, baby boy has been getting everyone to fall in love with him. He’s all smiles and giggles. And his first Easter, despite rainy and cold weather, was sunny and warm. (To join in the fun, visit the “Italy Week One – Easter” photo album.) Wait until you see the rest of the pics of him in his snazzy suit! Keep an eye on the site for weekly updates from the Boot.