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.