New Year!

Aaah! This last year has been a great one, and the one to come I am sure will be full of exciting and wonderful things.
I love the new year. Every year I make fantastical resolutions; not just one, but many. I have always loved the idea of wiping the slate clean and starting fresh.
So today I have a new idea. I am inviting you, my readers to ask me questions about myself or anything else you are curious about that I will later post the answers to. Feel free to ask your questions in the comment section or e mail them to me.
This post is rather short. Have you ever tried typing while holding a warm snuggle bug?

Christmas Eve

It is cold outside, and inside the house not only is it warm, but scented with the fragrance of homemade cookies that my mom and boys have been making this afternoon. A perfect smell to wake up to on Christmas Eve I thought, as the baby and I woke up from our nap. They are freezing some cookies for me to eat in some weeks, as even though it is Christmas I must abstain from anything that has sugar or flour in it. I am on a special yeast fighting diet! Yes... sadly the baby and I developed thrush, (yeast). He first got it in his mouth, and then I got it in my breasts. This is the reason for my long absence from my blog, all energy has gone to the management of this thing. I successfully was able to breastfeed my two elder sons, each for a year. I never thought that I would have any trouble with this one. What a surprise, and oh, what pain! I understand and have such empathy now for the women who choose not to or can't breastfeed their little ones. In a moment of desperation I attempted to give my little one a bottle. He refused it.

In the past few days things have slowly started to get better, meaning I am not gritting my teeth and crying during feedings anymore. My little one is gaining weight rapidly, as the amount of milk is not the problem.

At the advice of someone from the La Leche League we found a pediatrician that works at a hospital in Moncalieri, and she told M what to do for a quick "not quite legitimate" meeting with her. We registered with the Pronto Soccorso, the emergency room, and then when they told us to go to a certain doctor at the pediatric unit on floor two, we were very furbo and went up to floor six to meet with our doctor who was working in the nido, the nursery. While waiting I was joking with M that they would come find us when we never showed up on floor two. I was feeling a little strange, like we would get in trouble for not following directions. He smiled and said, "Yes, but we are in Italy. Here we "arrange" things." I liked that. I liked the doctor very much too, she was very kind to fit us in her busy schedule. She has Luca and I on the strongest anti-yeast medication, so that the breastfeeding can continue.

Through all this drama, my mother has been an absolute life saver. I don't know how we would have managed without her care and strength and support. I am very lucky to have her here now... I know it.
So, now that I have explained why I have been absent from this blog for so long, I can finally tell you:

Merry Christmas!

I wish all my friends, family, and fellow blogging buddies a wonderful time with their loved ones this holiday season!

Winter Bouquet

Baby Luca, five days old

He's here!!

Yes he is born, Tuesday december 4 at 9:50 pm Italian time.

In the picture on the right you can see the three brothers together; in the center: Luca Nicholas.

Some statistics: his weight was 2.66Kg - 5lbs and 14oz (quite small); his length was 47 cm - 18.5in his head circumference was 32cm - 12.6in.

He was born in our house, as we wanted, in a inflatable birth pool, set ... in the kitchen.

Ou family is very happy and Amber is restoring fast. In the next days she will surely blog more giving you more information.

Bye

Woo Hoo!

It looks like the eviction notice worked! I am in labor!

...still waiting

My midwives came to our house today, to do their weekly exam of my tummy. They said that the little guy is still in a perfect birthing position, head down and facing toward my spine... this may not mean a lot to people, but to me it is wonderful news that means posterior/back labor will be something I don't have to worry about. Unless at the last minute he decides to flip-flop.
We went through the birth supply checklist, to make sure that we haven't missed a thing. Ice in the freezer? check. Birth pool ready? check. Midwives phone numbers in an easy to see location? check. Hot water bottle? check. Towels, sheets, plastic? check. Baby's first clothes, diapers, etc? check. Scale to weigh baby? check.
It was fun for my mom to see this informal and friendly appointment, although since it was in Italian I needed to translate. I feel that I am so very fortunate that although here in Italy, I know who my birth attendants will be. That definitely is not the norm here, usually you show up at the hospital, and you get who you get. Instead, I have gotten to know my three midwives over the past nine months, and they know us, and our birth preferences. They will be the ones here with me at the big moment. They are open minded and even culturally sensitive, something that I definitely am not taking for granted. I feel lucky that I found them.
I showed the midwives the lovely baby bunting that my grandmother crocheted for the baby, and two beautiful wool blankets that were made in Oregon, designed by Native Americans and brought to me by my mother.
We are as prepared as we can get, and all is ready... the waiting kind of feels like Christmas, except at least you know what day Christmas lands on!

Notice of Eviction

Dear Sir:

In approximately ten days our contract will expire, and so this is your official eviction notice. Management has kept a close eye on you during the time of our contract, and has noticed that although your space was fully sufficient for much of the term, you are clearly now outgrowing the spatial capacity of your home. This is a major part of the reason you must vacate the premises, not only because the contractual time is nearly over. This contract is non-negotiable. You cannot appeal. If you try to stay longer you will be expelled.

Sincerely,
the Management

P.S. Your mother and father and older brothers are anxiously awaiting your arrival. The move will entail many benefits to you such as free rent for at least 18 years, a college education, free snacks and three meals a day each day, lots of hugs and kisses, and a lifetime of new experiences. In light of this we the Management are strongly encouraging you to make the move on the date the contract is over, if not before. Thank you.

Feeling thankful

This time of year I find myself reminded by the holiday "Thanksgiving" to examine my life and feel grateful for my blessings. In no apparent order they manifest themselves, and in quality and quantity I have to say, I am blessed.

Have you ever had a kitty cat climb on your tummy and begin to knead with its paws? I haven't held a cat in this way for years, but in the last week I have felt this sensation daily. While lying on my back I can feel my unborn son, moving to a rhythm of his own, in weight it feels like a cat on my tummy, he moves slow and strong, the kneading movements are within me. The first morning I felt this sensation I was half in a dream surrounded by purring and contentment sure that I held a cat. How strange to wake to silence, and instead of a cat, a belly full of baby. This baby, a new part of me, and someone whose face I have yet to see. What a blessing.

My mother is here now, as she has been by my side during my previous births. This is a blessing.

Gabriel with his chocolate brown eyes, and deep sweet soul, my firstborn son... my forever love. This is a blessing.

Matthew my baby, who knows he will always be my baby no matter how old he is, and no matter that there will be a new one soon. This is a blessing.

My grandmother who birthed ten children naturally; who set a great example in every way. This is a blessing.

Learning that with another child, love never is divided, but miraculously it multiplies... this is a blessing.

Cold wet doggy kisses in the mornings, the utterly undeserved adoration in her eyes, the wagging tail... this is a blessing.

New friends and old, the chance to share our souls and minds and hearts... this is a blessing.

Being loved, and loving in return... the greatest blessing.

Thank you God, for all the ways you bless me.

waiting

"Come out and play, baby brother!"

He makes my heart melt...

with his large hazel eyes, and ever ready smile.

With his active imagination, he always plays better with props. See exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

and Exhibit C:

Ah... the joy of Nutella! Perhaps this is why he likes to cook.

Some days it is all I can do to keep this little Cowboy fenced in!

Hey Mamma, look! A leaf was floating down and I got it with the dart!

I have to hold on to these moments. They grow too quickly!

Friends

Dear friends, family and readers, I have a request of you today. If you have a moment of time please send a prayer for my friend Liz, or your kind thoughts or good vibes. She could use our strength and best wishes now as she is in the hospital. Thank you!

Bad Dawg!

While my little one, not yet born, is resting in his watery coccoon, this drama was played out over 5,000 miles away.

Grandma and Grandpa were sitting in their easy chairs watching tv with the dog resting between them at their feet.

Suddenly Grandma heard a strange smacking and chewing sound. And this is what she saw:

"Hey big guy, what ya got there? Uh oh. Is that...?

Yes it is. The baby's slipper! Well, what is left of it anyway. Oh no!"

"Ummm... I have been a bad dawg? I'm sorry. You still love me, right?"

And that is the true story of how this baby lost his first pair of slippers to a dog, even before he was born!

A Saturday...

After waking I rubbed my bleary eyes and made my way into the kitchen to make some coffee which I am now able to drink again without the cursed pregnancy nausea. My youngest son jumped up to give me a hug. He had been sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework. Before breakfast.
Wow!
My oldest son arranged to do homework later in the day with a new friend from his class. I didn't have to cajole or threaten; where are they getting this sense of responsibility?
Then, a blissful hour of perusing my favorite blogs while sitting in a spot of weak sunshine contentedly curled up on the sofa like an immense pregnant cat.
Shopping...lists, and crowds of people.
Home again, lunch, then a long nap. Yawn.
Oops, someone forgot to tell us they needed more school supplies. Out shopping again.
While shopping my littlest was practicing his karate moves in my tummy. Talk about distracting!
Dinner, and do you know what I did? I am a bad girl who cheated on my pregnancy diet! I made crepes, and mine was drizzled in Nutella and whipped cream, mmm. And you know what? It was worth it.

Boys in the 'hood

The fun should never end! Here are my two and a couple of our neighbors, after a long sweaty afternoon playing basketball. They think they are tough and cool tweens; I think they look like cute little puppies. But ssshhhh, don't tell them I said that.
Happy Weekend!

Surprise!

Blogging has been a good form of therapy for me as I have been settling into this new life in a new country. It has allowed me freedom to express some of the differences between life back home and life here, as well as the similarities, although of course it is the differences that are most striking. It has been a creative way to document the memories we are making here. Another facet of blogging that has been a wonderful surprise to me is the formation of new relationships with new people that otherwise I would never be able to know. It is always fun for me when someone new stops by and leaves a comment on my blog. Who are you, and where do you come from? I am filled with curiosity, and am always happy when I can trail someone back to their blog and learn about them. Sometimes inevitable friendships form. I just love my blogging buddies! So what does this ramble have to do with the next part of this post? You'll see!

It was late afternoon when buzzer for the gate sounded. "Chi è?" I asked. Who is it? "Signora there is a package for you." "Ok," I replied, "I'm coming." This time, the delivery man was friendly and cheerful and just a bit curious. "How do you pronounce your name Signora? Amberrrr?" "Yes," I replied, "although gli Italiani have an easier time saying Ambra." He smiled and agreed. "Where are you from?" he asked next. "I am from the U.S., from Oregon, it is the state above California" I gave my standard answer to help him orient Oregon. I think when most Italians think of the U.S., when they do at all, they are familiar with certain states they have seen from tv programs. They know New York, Florida, California and Nevada- for Las Vegas. Then he asked me what nearly everyone here asks me: "What is the nicer life, here in Italy or in the U.S.?" This is always such a tough one for me. I looked into his designer sunglasses, and said "Well, they are both equally nice, even if different." This is such a lame answer! I know it, and yet I cannot help myself. There are days that I still wonder what on earth I am doing here, and then there are other days when I am perfectly content here. It is too difficult to explain even to myself, let alone a stranger, and one who is making polite conversation with me.

During this conversation, as I was signing my name, I was trying to peer at the return address. Hmmm, it was from Italy. From a man I had never heard of. I quickly scanned the destination address and sure enough, it was addressed to me. I said "Buona giornata" to the delivery man and went back upstairs.

I was thinking: Hmmm this is from an Ale... M...whoa! A long name with extensive R trilling and double consonants. I kept repeating his name to myself to see if it would jolt a memory. Nope. Then I was thinking: What could I have ordered online? Oh yes, the last thing was the Hypnotherapy Birthing cds. But they came last week. Hmmm.  Strange. Who is this person and why did he send something to me? Filled with curiosity I opened the package. Ah, sweet! There were two adorable little baby boy outfits by Nike, and three beautiful books, in ENGLISH (joy! joy! joy!) for me and each boy. Wow! Then I opened a card and found that all this generosity came from my Blogging Buddy Liz, whom I have never met in real life yet, although I hope to soon. I am so touched. First because she thought of me, but especially that she thought of me during such a turbulent time in her own life. She had sent this care package to us in her man's suitcase when he made the 5,000 mile journey back to Italy, and then he had sent it to us. Mystery solved. Thank you so much Liz, baci!

So from 5,000 miles away my friend gave me a smile, a friend I would not ever have made except for blogging! Cheers to Blogging Buddies!

Here is Gabriel giving his stamp of approval for his baby-brother-to-be's new duds!

First Day

With a bit of trepidation in my heart, I walked to my youngest son's school this afternoon, to fetch him home after his first day of school this year. This year he is going to a brand new school; and for the first time ever, a school without the reassuring presence of his older brother.
Last night while tucking him into bed he leaned in for a hug, sucked in a deep breath and said a with a little tremor "I hope they like me." I smiled at him and reminded him that no matter what, I love him and know he is a very likeable boy. Earlier in the day he had chosen a t-shirt to wear to school the first day, that has a photograph of his class from last year screenprinted on it. He said he wanted the other kids to see that he had already been in another Italian school.
Today as I waited outside the gate, lost in the press of the parents and grandparents waiting for the children to come out of the doors of the school, I searched the faces. Finally I saw my youngest son (as I write this it occurs to me that in a couple of months I won't be able to refer to Matthew in this way, he will be my middle son!) and I jumped up and down, waving my arm high above heads to try to attract his attention. He saw me. I saw a slight smile appear then he moved with purpose through the sea of people toward me. We didn't try to hug or even speak, we walked away from the crowd. Finally when there was breathing room I turned and hugged him and looked at this sweet boy. I knew he had a good day. His face reflected calm and satisfaction. "They were nice. I won a game of "find four" against some of my new friends four times! One of them wanted me to pretend I didn't trap him in a move, so I said Okay... Mamma, I don't think they even know I am American! I only spoke Italian." We smiled at each other and walked home.
Later he drove home the point with his older brother Gabriel who starts middle school tomorow. Gabriel had been waiting at home full of curiosity about his brother's day at school. Matthew told him all about it and gave this advice: "Don't tell them that you are American. Just let them think you are Italian. Then once they get to know you, you can tell them." "Why?" we asked. "So you have a chance to make friends. Otherwise they will think you can't speak Italian and they will want to ignore you, or will always think you are too different, like my class did last year."
Oh my child, I understand you more than you think I do! But maybe this goes too deep for now.
In the two and a half years that my children have been here, I have seen them grow tremendously. Gabriel is so comfortable in Italian that he is almost complacent. His teachers last year commented that he deserved the high grades he received and that they graded him no differently than an Italian boy who was born here, and they were amazed like us at how quickly he was able to master the language other than a few strange verb usages here and there. All of his work, history, geography, mathematics etc. is conducted in Italian. With Matthew it has been more of a struggle. He is proud, and rightly so of his newfound mastery of Italian, thrilled that it is good enough that his new classmates don't see him as "foreign."
I am sitting here this evening feeling emotional, but mostly grateful. One of my children had a great first day! We worked very hard to get Matthew inserted into this particular class in this school. We are hoping that the Montessori method will make a difference in his educational success. We were told that there was no way he could be admitted into this class, too many other children were ahead of us on the list. So we were persistent for a while. Then I gave up. Then the powers that be called my husband and told him they had room for Matthew! We met his teacher and were duly impressed. So now I have such a hope for a fantastic school year for this boy.
One down, one to go. Tomorrow will be Gabriels' first day in middle school. Oh the drama and theatrics that have been present in our house due to this fact. Have I told you about Italian middle schools yet? Mamma mia! I will have to fill you in even if all our information comes through the grape vine of course, as he hasn't actually attended one yet.

Any Questions?

For those of us who are familiar with the exodus of gli Italiani each year, empty streets in the city during August are a common sight. What makes it so significantly striking however, is that almost every other time of the year parking spaces are difficult to find, making double parking or even parking on sidewalks common. This is the little street where we live, during August when almost everyone was on vacation.

Here is the same street in early September. People are starting to come back to the city. The parking still isn't desperate yet, as you can see.

I must admit I like the (relatively speaking) quiet slow pace of this city in August. Yes more shops are closed, but the big supermarkets are still open, and I know that anything else we will need will become available again in September. I think it is a fair trade off for the breathing room, and less elbow rubbing that takes place in August. But what else would a true country girl from the wide open spaces of Oregon think?

Impressions

Our quickie vacation in Toscana was filled with sun, fun, an occasional rainy afternoon, crowds of people, magnificent art, impressive fortress-like hilltop towns, and the sound of many different languages as tourists from around the world flocked to see this jewel that is Italy. My children, mom and I walked away from this vacation with different impressions, some of which I am happy to tell you about. Matthew now ten years old was absolutely thrilled to make the trek up the worn marble stairs to the top of the Pisa tower. This was a promise come true for him that I made before we ever moved to Italy. I was the only one of our family who did not climb, I stayed down and kept our dog company. At nearly six months pregnant, I considered that climbing with a large group of people, and worrying about slowing them down was something that I was NOT interested in doing.
After seeing a random billboard Gabriel became intent. He cited that since he wants to be a writer, he needs to learn as much as he can, and so he viewed the museum of Torture in Siena. Matthew was not even interested, and when Gabey came out he was a little white and told me that the torture was worse for the poor women, than it had ever been for men. Hmmm... Poor boy, what did he see? No, I am sure I don't want to know. Gabriel, the easygoing boy that he is enjoyed all of our outings, not asking for something from us every ten minutes, like his little brother. Only one evening when after walking in the heat all day and making plans for dinner Gabriel asked to please stay "home" in the agritourismo with his brother and the dog. So under the watchful eyes of our wonderful hosts at the agritourismo, we left the boys, the dog, a cell phone, and two margarita pizzas. We adults took the opportunity to go out for dinner together and eat a "bistecca fiorentina" at a restaurant very close to the Ponte Vecchio. The steak, when it arrived in front of me was so huge that without even meaning to I started laughing. This amused our waiter. I told him that I hadn't expected half a cow! Our steaks each weighed a pound and a half! Needless to say, we didn't even attempt to finish them.
My mom and I enjoyed a beautiful day at the Uffizzi. Being pregnant and losing valuable bladder space, I must use the bathroom more often than I like and so I became intimately acquainted with the bathrooms at the Uffizzi. One of the times we were there, we ran into another American woman who was marvelling at the clean, modern, spacious bathrooms well stocked with seat protectors and paper! I had to agree, these were by far the nicest public bathrooms I have ever yet seen here in Italy. We take these conditions for granted in the U.S. but here it is something to marvel about. I did find it ironic though that with all the fantastic art in the corridors above us, we were gushing on about the bathrooms!

Le Macine, the agritourismo where we stayed was wonderful. It was only four kilometers from the center of Florence, so that was convenient. But for those who love the "country" it was idyllic. The house was built in the 1600s, and had beautiful wooden beams across the ceiling. We had a refrigerator, and a little cookstove. Our hosts were wonderful, friendly and outgoing. They didn't speak much English, but enough I am sure for travellers who don't speak Italian. Every morning they served a big beautiful breakfast to their guests at one long wooden table with chairs and benches set around it to accomodate us all. Coffee, tea, hot milk, cookies, cakes, bruschetta with wonderful home made olive oil and fresh tomatoes, fruit salad,bread and home made fig, berry and prune jams, home made salame and home made juice were there each morning. I am sure I am forgetting something. This was the most diverse and bounteous spread I have ever seen served for breakfasts at an agritourismo. The day we left we bought about 20 bottles of their wine, and a 5 liter container of olive oil from them. I was told the wine was to help me bring in the milk when the time comes for the new baby. I had to laugh! Lots and lots of water will help, but I know that the old wives tale here is that wine for the mom will bring milk for the baby. Well, anyway I will certainly enjoy a glass of that wine in the afternoons after the baby is born. I tasted it, and it is good. I like a homemade wine. This one tastes mellow and a little sweet, a good sipping wine.

Overall I must say that I was charmed by the warmth and smiles of any of the Florentines that I interacted with. Of course this is generalizing, but they seem open and friendly. I must have become a little more used to the people of Torino, salesclerks who will never smile at you, and a general unfriendliness or at least an unwillingness to offer any kind of customer service to their customers. Not so in Florence from what I saw. For example in the Piazza Signoria my mother and I had just bought a few trinkets from a vendor and said "Buona giornata" "Have a nice day" to them and walked off when one of the vendors called me back. He handed me a stack of postcards- for free! For no reason! I was so amazed. It was the first random act of kindness I received from an Italian that I didn't know in the two and a half years that I have lived in Italy.
My mom and I walked off talking about how nice that was, and how unusual, and then we came near the entrance of the Uffizzi where a street musician was playing the guitar. We listened and were entranced, and eventually plucked out a cd from his guitar case after placing in it the appropriate euros. We told him how beautiful the music was and he smiled and nodded. We put the cd in the car to listen to it. The cd cover shows the same musician, and the skill level was the same. But that hauntingly beautiful classical music that had so captivated us? It was replaced by technically dazzling, but rather cold arrangements. Sigh. Who knows, maybe we were simply romanced by a magical afternoon in Florence, the whimsical weather that was slightly rainy interspersed by glorious sun, too much art to fathom, and a handsome young guitar player who could pull heartstrings with a haunting barely remembered lovesong.

La Sorgente del Po

I feel like a tourist; we have been taking my Mom to see the sights here in and around Torino. Later this month we will be in Toscana, visiting Pisa, Florence, Sienna, San Gimignano and others, but almost all will be day trips from Florence so that we can pack in as much touring as we possibly can during M's brief vacation time.

In pregnancy news, I am doing very well, everything is progressing normally as I enter into my 24th week today. I am trying to follow my midwives instructions on napping each afternoon for two whole hours at a time, but usually I can only make it for an hour. My blood pressure has remained low since the last episode where I had to go to pronto soccorso, so I am feeling much more relaxed. Also of great relief to me is that nearly all of the awful morning sickness that I was experiencing has gone away, and I have just learned to breathe through my mouth when around smokers which means I don't smell the smoke, hence no nausea! All of this means that after months of being housebound because of nausea in the beginning of this pregnancy I am now revelling in my freedom to go out and about.

On Saturday last week end we went to La Sorgente del Po, the source of the Po river. It was especially fun for my son Gabriel who had gone on a class trip to see the Delta of the Po just a few months ago on a class trip. We left a hot and humid Torino and felt very fortunate when we arrived high in the mountains to feel refreshingly cool air. The vista was clear and expansive, the air pure and fresh, just the way I love it! We had bought bread, mayonnaise, some really great Toma cheese as it turns out, some salame and some prosciutto for sandwiches which we packed up the hill on the trail to the source. Between watching our dog Delta splash and swim in the creek wending its way down the hill, and the expressions of the boys as they soaked their shirts in the icy water and then put them back on, it was entertaining. Why is it that dogs who go swimming wait until they are right next to you before shaking?

Oh, and la sorgente del Po? I have just fallen in love with another part of Italy.

Bellissima, no?

A Day Trip to the Piemontese Wine Country

My Mom is here visiting us for several weeks this summer. She left her weaving and her beautiful vegetable and flower gardens in Oregon and is instead spending some time with M and I and her grandsons. We have gone on several little excursions here in Torino, but this weekend we wanted to see the verdant hills of the Piemontese wine country. It feels hot and dry this time of year, and yet the fields are green and vast, extending up and down rolling hills. This country reminds me of parts of Toscana, but more lush and green. When we stopped at a cantina to buy some wine, one of the sellers told us that for nearly a year they had received no significant rain, which means this years' harvest will yield grapes that are small, and strong flavored. This will mean a smaller harvest, which probably will bring the price up.

When we left Torino we were all packed in the car, even Delta who loves to go on day trips. Our first destination was Mombaruzzo, home of the most delectable amaretto cookie I have ever tasted. The boys loved going on a journey with amaretti as the prize. After walking through winding streets we bought our amaretti and realized it was lunch time. We had packed a picnic lunch, and we found a shaded place to eat near a playground. Perfect. We ate and the boys and Delta romped around the playground. Here is Delta playing, and then getting a caress from my mom.

After digesting a while, we drove around and saw a duomo in the distance. This is the chiesa in Fontanile framed by someone's vines in a field I walked into just for this photo.

Grapes!

We strolled through Fontanile, another pretty and quiet hill town. This next photo was taken by 10 year old Matthew. My children are very proprietary over their photos, and like credit where it is due!

Our next destination was the scalding hot fountain of Acqui Terme.

We found the piazza almost deserted, and the fountain was visibly steaming, even on such a hot day.

Gelato! The perfect way to end an outing.

And I almost forgot! Credit for this photo goes to Gabriel.

Facciamo La Pizza!

Pizza dough ingredients:

3-3 and 1/2 cups flour

1 tsp salt

1 pinch of sugar

1 cup of lukewarm water

1 package of dry yeast

If using Italian yeast, read the directions which will most likely tell you to add the yeast to the flour.

If using American yeast, empty packet into a large bowl and add the lukewarm water, and the pinch of sugar. Mix and allow to stand for 5 to 10 minutes.

Next add the salt and about a third of the flour and mix with a wooden spoon.

Sprinkle some flour onto a clean working surface and plop the batter on it. Mix in the remaining flour a little at a time, kneading for about 8 to 10 minutes.

This is where you really notice the convenience of kitchen slaves, if you have them. Make sure your little kitchen slave has washed his hands thoroughly, and even under the nails before letting him touch the dough!

Next, lightly oil a mixing bowl and leave the dough in it and covered,to rise about 45 minutes.

Gently punch the dough back down and remove from the bowl. Make four equal balls of dough if making 4 medium pizzas, or two equal balls of dough if making two large pizzas.

With a rolling pin, roll out the dough to about a thickness of 3/8 inch.

Place dough in a lightly oiled pan, or use parchment paper to line the pan.

Next assemble the toppings.

Here were ours:

Tomato sauce, dried spices, fresh basil and mozarella cheese. Simple, and oh so good!

Next, if you would like to surprise your kitchen slaves, roll out your second large pizza ball, and ask them to top it with Nutella and candy! Guaranteed to satisfy all sweet tooths and have your children begging for their next chance to be a kitchen slave!

Preheat oven. Bake your pizza at 475F or 250C for 15 to 20 minutes or until the crust is golden brown and the cheeses are melted and bubbling.

Oh mamma mia, every night should be pizza night! Buon appetito!

Because it's so hot...

I thought I would share with you these sweet and icy treats:

If we were in a St*rbucks and this boy were a drink...

he would be an Iced Caffé Mocha. Velvety smooth chocolate, and sweet.

This one would be an Iced Caffé Latte, rich and creamy.

and this little ball of fluff would be an Iced Caramel Macchiato, so sweet and irresistible!

Take your pick, and GET THIS: These sweet cold little things are calorie free!

Doctors: Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em...

...or can you? From now on I'm going to try to avoid them until I learn how to control my blood pressure.



***Warning to my male readers*** this rant contains mention of things that may make you cringe or make your toenails curl, so you may just want to skip it.


Tuesday I went to our assigned family doctor who must give prescriptions for visits to any other specialists, in order to request more prescriptions for my upcoming prenatal visits. At my last prenatal visit we had been asked by the midwife team at S. Anna to request a basic "Certificate of good health" from him. The doctor said that was an unusual request and asked M for clarification. M told him that the midwives needed it for their records. At this point the doctor became very openly critical of our chosen birth plan, and I felt the need to defend our well thought out plan that we are sure is the best for our family. Our professional caregivers at S. Anna have agreed and are managing my pregnancy and impending birth. I must say here that I already do not like our general/family doctor due to previous inept actions regarding my children’s health. I tried to keep my mouth shut and let M do the talking with him, but inside I was stewing. At this point the doctor took my blood pressure and I had my very first high blood pressure reading of my life. I am always below the norm of 120/80, but not after feeling emotional over this doctor’s criticisms. The Dr. then said he absolutely could not sign a certificate of good health for me, and that my husband in fact had to take me to the Sant’Anna emergency room. Now.
Within 20 minutes we were home and I re-took my blood pressure. It was down from 150/95 at the doctors office to 117/75. That was more like it! At my last prenatal visit my bp was 114/60.
We still went to the ER as requested, but they were closed. This was also the first time in my life I have ever seen a "closed" emergency room. Ha!
The next morning after waking my bp was 102/53. That surely isn’t dangerously high, but we went back to the ER as soon as they opened at 7am.
After arriving there and telling them that I needed to have my blood pressure checked and explaining that I felt it was an emotional reaction to the Dr. rather than a real medical issue, they took my bp. It was awful, just in re-telling how critical the Dr. was yesterday I could literally feel my heart pounding. They took my bp. It was 150/80. Damn.
They said they would keep me for the day and run tests. Next I went in for a consultation with a doctor. M and I gave my medical history, and showed him all of the records of the pregnancy thus far. Then I was instructed to go undress from waist down in the bathroom. I was angry. I had come there for high blood pressure, not a gynecological exam.
As I am sure all of my fellow female expats know, it is NOT customary here to be given a robe or a little cover or anything. Until now I have always dressed in a skirt which allows for a little privacy when I have these internal exams. But this time I was unprepared. I was going to have an exam and the doctor didn’t even tell me why.
Half nekkid, I re-entered the exam room with three strangers in it and climbed up onto the exam table. Unfortunately I cry more easily when I am angry than when I am sad or happy. So there I was on the table after doing the strip and spread ‘em, trying not to cry. I was snuffle-snorting and my breathing was shakey, and tears were still finding their way out. This was not one of my finer moments. Then I heard the doctor tell the nurse "Si, e’ incinta." Yes, she is pregnant. I became livid with anger. This genius had a glove and so he decided to do an internal exam just to verify that I was pregnant! Folks, this is not uncharted territory! We had already shown him all my prenatal records that have been taken up to this point. Then, I guess just because this doctor is a little "slow" he used a doppler to hear the baby’s heart beat. Yes, pregnant, for sure. Not even that sweet sound could bring me out of my funk.
Immediately after the exam he said the nurse could take my blood pressure. I glared at him and screeched sarcastically "Bravo! Now that my systolic pressure is surely above two hundred!" At the same time my husband was telling him "Absolutely not, she must be allowed to relax first." and the nurse was saying "Oh no, we must wait and give her some time." With as much dignity as an angry half naked pregnant woman can muster, I  stalked back into the bathroom and picked up my clothes off the dirty floor as there had been no other place to leave them. Patients here really get no frills.
I glanced in the mirror and saw my angry eyes and then quite shockingly these bright red blotches that looked like a terrible rash all over my neck and chest. Really weird.
I showed the nurses, and they said that I was probably allergic to doctors. Boh. I don’t think I am allergic to all doctors, but certainly that one!
After that adventure they took my blood for various tests and asked me for a urine sample. I drank a liter of water, and said "You’ll have it within 5 minutes." After all, I am pregnant, and usually that is an extremely easy request to fulfill. Not this time. Twenty minutes later, I had a delayed reaction to that exam I felt I had no power to resist, and had tremors for a few minutes. I was shaking like I was cold, and my teeth were chattering. Finally that went away and I was able to go to the bathroom.
Next they sent us to the second floor for an ultrasound. That was the only pleasant part of the day.
Later they took my bp again and it was 130/80. Still too high. After a dismal lunch my test results came back and they sent me for a consultation with an internal medicine specialist. She said all my test results were normal and that she would sign the "Certificate of good health" needed. She also agreed with me that this high blood pressure was emotionally based rather than a physical problem. But she warned me that I needed to find a good way to relax because for the birth plan I have chosen the rules at S. Anna are stringent and they have a very narrow view of good health. She feels that I may be able to improve my bp by losing some weight and exercising. So she gave me a diet to follow that looks rather easy. I only need to make a few simple changes.
Next we had to see another doctor from the ER who reviewed all my records of the day. Finally I was free to go home after 2:30 pm.
What an exhausting day, and if you have read all this then you must be exhausted too, and I am impressed!

Blue!

I feel I am a terrible blogger; I need to respond to the lovely people who left comments on yesterdays' post. I love receiving comments. I also need to get caught up on all of your blogs! (I will, I promise).

This is just a brief update... today I spent a stressful day at the Pronto Soccorso, the ER. All is well that ends well, and later or tomorrow I will fill you in. I am just exhausted now, and need to relax. I am so happy to be home.

The silver lining of the storm clouds in this story was having an unexpected ultrasound. The technician said he could see what variety of baby I have... It looks to have a little pisellino, so, we are thinking blue! I am absolutely delighted with the emotions I have, knowing what this little one is. I would have been as happy to have a girl, but somehow knowing the sex is making me feel more connected to the little critter. I also know that ultrasounds are not foolproof and maybe I really have a girl. Time will tell. That and my official anatomical scan is still set for next week.

Yawn. I am off to take a nap now.

Hello?

*Warning, not for those with weak stomachs. This post contains mention of "stinky" things.



After seemingly abandoning my blog for so long, I hope the following conversation can at least partially explain my absence, if not totally excuse it.




M: Before we go, do you have everything you need?


Me: Yes, I think so.


M: Plastic barf bags?


Me: Yes.


M: Candy? (Referring to the strong sugarless licorice candy I always carry in my pockets nowadays).


Me: Yes, I couldn’t survive without it y’know.


M: Handkerchief? (Referring to the heavily fragrance laden tissue that I always carry in my pockets nowadays).


Me: Yes, I am ready.


M: Well, it looks like we can go, but do you have to go to the bathroom first?


Me: Oh, you're right, I better go do that. I am highly suggestible this way. That and my bladder capacity has recently decreased.


Finally we are ready to face the gauntlet of cigarette smoke and other "strange smells" that will assail my poor innocent nostrils on yet another of our visits to le ostetriche, the kind midwives of Santa Anna.


What amazes me nearly as much as finding out that I am pregnant again after ten years (ten years people!) is that every clinic or doctors office or hospital that I have had to enter recently always has a crowd of smokers outside the door. I literally have to breathe through a perfumed handkerchief while running and gasping and telling my stomach to please not revolt. I hate throwing up, but hate even more when it happens in public. When I am not pregnant I don’t mind smelling smoke, as long as I am not eating, but it is merely a slight annoyance. But now, cigarette smoke is the kiss of death, and when I smell it, the scent lingers in my nasal passages for hours, tormenting me. Having gone through this twice before, I know that my sense of smell will return to normal after the birth of the baby, but for now... if I leave the house, I must always carry my "barf kit".


In my previous two pregnancies, I endured the morning sickness which was really morning, noon, night, (actually any time I was conscious) sickness for the entire length of the pregnancy! This time though, I already feel quite hopeful. I have moments during the day when I don’t feel sick at all, and only strong smells bring it on. I would love to have a more "normal" pregnancy, like the many women who begin to feel better between their 14th to 16th week.


I am past that and am in my 19th week of pregnancy now. But things are definitely looking up. I still can't eat out in a restaurant because of the many smells, but especially for the scent of coffee. That affects me nearly as badly as cigarettes.


I can more easily cook meat for my family now.


Just this morning I went for a walk. I actually left the sanctuary of my house without having an appointment somewhere! I left for the pleasure of seeing the wild flowers in the grass, and the blue sky and sun shimmering the green leaves of the trees. I love that we have a park so near our house. This morning I discovered that although the park has quite a few people in it early in the mornings, they are usually joggers! Joggers don’t normally smoke, at least not while they are jogging. And there were wide open spaces which makes a quick getaway easier for me.


I have hope that maybe this time, I will be able to enjoy being pregnant. My previous memories of pregnancy include much sickness, moving on to tender breasts, moving on to becoming enormous like a beached whale, accompanied by strange aches and pains and learning to live with less and less sleep at night because really, trying to sleep with a watermelon in your tummy is nearly impossible. I think that this discomfort in latter pregnancy is a training mechanism your body has, so that when you have a newborn that won’t let you sleep for longer than an hour at a time, you are already used to the lack of sleep. Or. You are so desperate for sleep that you crave being able to FINALLY give birth even when that means that the watermelon must come OUT. Anyone less sleep deprived would know better.


The boys are ecstatic and can’t wait for the baby to arrive in December. My youngest often caresses my tummy and talks to the baby. My oldest tells me how beautiful I am and asks many questions. They both are a lot more cuddly with me lately, and I think they are just amazed that there is a baby growing inside me. Me too, to tell the truth. It is an incredible thing to realize. I have been feeling it move around inside like a little fish. Next week will be the ultrasound. If the baby is not shy we should be able to see if it is a boy or a girl.

Better than KFC?

The thing about cooking with kids is, I always assume it will be way more work for me. But yesterday afternoon when I told them the menu for dinner, they enthusiastically volunteered themselves as chefs. So after I skinned and de-fatted and washed the chicken I showed them what to do. They did it all with little mess, and a lot of silly conversation. How nice for me!

Observations by the budding chefs overheard:

"Weird. Raw chicken feels slimey slippery kind of jell-O-ey, except it has a bone."

" I am putting my chicken in a bath, a barbeque bath."

" I am massaging my chicken."

"You can't massage that chicken! We have to eat that!"

"Hurry, the chicken is tired of being in the bath and it wants to be in the crackers."

" Ma, we have to wash our hands again? I just did! Why do you have to wash your hands every time you touch raw chicken?"

And my favorite remark: "Mom, I'm tired of cooking. Will you finish?" Of course it was the last piece of chicken to go into the cracker mix.

Later, they were so proud of their efforts that they invited a friend over for dinner. I don't know how the topic came up but their little friend mentioned eating rabbit. One of the boys said "You can't eat rabbits! They are too cute!" Amen. I've trained them well. Boys after my own heart.

And I Get the Wacky Postman!

A couple of weeks ago, I checked our mailbox and found an interesting note. It was from the post stating that on that day they couldn't deliver our package to us because we didn't answer the doorbell. We were home all day. The postman never rang us. The interesting thing about this note was the time. The postman wrote: "Attempted delivery at 12:15". I started laughing when I looked at my watch, and it wasn't yet 11:45. M complained to the Italian post. They sent a letter to him, basically passing the buck. They said it wasn't their fault because they sub-contracted out to another delivery company for that particular piece of mail. Ok, Va bene. We now know it wasn't the Italian post's fault. So we simply shrugged our shoulders and said, ok, weird... but no big deal.

So today? The sun is shining and the birds are chirping and I was flitting domestically around the house when all of the sudden the intercom buzzes. I answered but the man was talking so quickly I couldn't understand him. All I got was that he was a postman. I hurried downstairs to see if we were getting a package or something. It was something! I got chewed out in Italian! Rapidly. It was because of the complaint my husband had made. He said he had rung the bell and we never answered. I asked about the time discrepancy and he said something hardly intelligible, and at the same time untrue, so before I got angry and said something not nice back to him I said, "Well, whatever. You can say what you want to say, but we know this should never happen." Then I left him in mid rant, and went back in the house. By that time I was fuming. I am sure that a postman or delivery service person would never come to my house to chew me out in America! And what is worse? I heard him loudly proclaiming his innocence to our neighbors. Che bello! I am trying to imagine making a complaint over his rude behavior but if this is what already happened... maybe it's not a great idea. Any Expats out there have prior experience with this kind of stuff?

The sun is still shining, and the birds are still chirping, and I am cheerful again. I can't believe I let the postman raise my blood pressure.

What's going on?

Even the dog is interested. Time to go play outside!

A Makeover!

No, not a makeover for me, although that would be nice too! Today I decided to paint the doors that lead from the entrance room of the house to the hallway. The doors may have needed to be painted, but more than anything I was just itching to use my new paints. I haven't felt creative for a while, so it was nice to be back in the groove for a few hours today. I had Delta pose in the picture, because the before photo would have simply been too boring without her.

Before:

Then when the boys came home from school I asked them for a little help. I like to encourage them to be creative.

They each painted for a few minutes, but then they went to play outside.

After:

I thought Delta should be in this photo too. She is just so cute!

Here is another photo, this time without Delta. (Edited to add a new photo. I added highlights to the painting Saturday morning), after seeing the painting in better light (daylight).

So, this is how I spent my friday afternoon. I hope yours was as enjoyable! Happy Weekend everyone.

Am I a real blogger now?

Hi there folks! This here is my 100th post! Quasi Italiana! is growing up. I can’t believe I have posted so many things here about normal everyday life, and that others read it! I am still tripped out that there are people from all corners of the globe, not just my family who read this blog. For this post, I would have liked to have written something profound and earth shatteringly moving about life as an American expat in Italy. However, nothing came to me. Life is life with its share of joys and imperfections whether you are here or there.

This blog has been good for me in several ways. It is a nice way to show my friends and family what we have been up to recently. I no longer send a million emails to them; they can simply click here. Another plus of having this blog, is that it gives me something positive to focus on almost every time that I post. When I look back in the archives, I see so much good in our lives... and I realize our family must really be grateful. The big things are covered: good health, a nice house to live in, friends and family near (at least this is partially true) and we always find some way to amuse ourselves when time permits. So, having this blog points out to me personally how much I have to be thankful for. Even if I believe deeply in my heart that everything that I love about Italy, I could happily take back home (to the US). That statement may shock Italophiles everywhere, but for me it is true. For example... Italian food. It is wonderful, and I love it and now I know how to cook many new things. That knowledge would go with me if we were ever to move. Another example? The touristy things to enjoy like monuments, palaces, churches and other cultural gems... I have many memories of these, enough to satisfy myself for a long time. And these are things that are easy to indulge in, all that is needed is a new vacation. Let’s see... most of all I have learned that relationships with friends and family can be maintained even if you live on other continents from each other.

There are times I don’t want to be here. Sometimes I feel the effort is not worth the reward. Sometimes the endless smog, and endless noise, and all the people living on top of each other in this city really makes me feel unhappy. I really do miss the country life. Sometimes it has less to do with Italy and more to do with all the things I am missing about life in the USA. So far I haven't outgrown my homesickness. I am starting to wonder if I ever will.

I don’t love everything about life here in Torino Italy. There are many things that I would never say to this audience because it isn’t positive or uplifting. Plus I have too many good stories to tell that are a lot nicer to read (and write) than the things that cause me disappointment. Would I be ecstatic to move back to the US? Yes. But it isn’t in the plans, and so I will continue to embrace my new life here, and share the adventures with you. Maybe I need to listen to other’s good advice, that happiness can be found simply by choosing to be happy, regardless of the circumstances we find ourselves in. I am not sure. But my mind is open and my heart is also. Even with all that I just wrote about the imperfections of life here... life in the US is also imperfect.

Fiera dei Vini

Last Saturday night we went to the Fiera dei Vini (wine fair) for dinner since it was held in the Parco della Pellerina which is just a hop, skip and a jump from our casa. When we walked in the building it smelled fantastic! There were vendors selling hot grilled sandwiches, dishes with polenta, pasta and more, crepes, all kinds of desserts and candies, and of course wine.

So many choices. I went ahead and ordered a grilled pork sandwich on a piadina which is an Italian flatbread that while thicker is much the same to me as a flour tortilla. My sandwich came with grilled red bell peppers (which are known in Italy as pepperoni - not to be confused with the salame that we Americans love on our pizza) and sauerkraut which Italians call krauti.

Zibibbo is a wine of Sicily that is one of my personal favorites. It is a strong wine that is similar to Marsala, that has been partially fermented and then distilled without the addition of spirits. The Zibibbo is made from grapes that have been partially fermented in the sun. It is an old process. So old that it comes from a formula known in the middle ages. Trust me, it is good.

After dinner, we strolled past the vendors again letting the boys choose what they wanted for dessert. Crepes were the choice.  I chose Babba al Rhum. It is a pastry that is cooked, and then soaked in a sauce made of two parts water, one part rum, and a lot of sugar.



After the Zibibbo and the Babba our defenses were down and when we walked past an amazing display of Torrone in many different flavors, we couldn’t resist. We bought one kilo of Torrone in the flavors of Limoncello, arancio, Tiramisu’, Nutella, and Pistacchio. Mamma mia!