Shooting and peeing, an analogy.

The first time I went to the shooting range, my friend gave me some much needed directions as to what not to do with a gun in your hand, one of the things he said was “if you’re going to talk to someone behind you or you want to look around you put the gun down first”.  At first I wondered at this seemingly strange piece of advice, but then the first time I did it I understood his warning, because though you may think you’re only turning your head you’re actually turning your torso shoulders and arms right along with it and that’s how you end up accidently pointing the gun at someone.

Today I realized how similar shooting and peeing are; or rather, guns and penises in this analogy. Because the Boy, he never, ever manages to just pee in the toilet. It gets on the seat (which he invariably forgets to lift up), it gets on the floor, it gets on his socks and only a marginal amount actually hits the toilet bowl. And today I had an epiphany, it’s because he isn’t physically able to just pee, he has to fiddle with the flusher, or talk to his sister, who is, inexplicably, always in there with him, he turns around to see who’s walking past the open (what else?) door, and his torso, shoulders, arms and hips go right along with him. Which all just begs the question: why don’t we just make men pee sitting down?

Wondrous things

This is my first time doing one of MamaKat’s writing prompts. We’re meant to “List your life’s Seven Wonders. Describe the most amazing 7 things you’ve seen with your own two eyes.” Now, my memory’s notoriously terrible and I thought and thought about the seven most amazing things I’ve seen, but the thing is, I’m pretty sure I don’t remember them. So I’m going to go with the first seven amazing things I came up with off the top of my head. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be coming up with even more amazing things I could’ve listed all week… except for number one, that’s the most amazing one of all the things I’ve seen and done, even though it’s trite and boring for a mom to list.

1. My kids being born. I know, I know… go ahead and roll your eyes at me, but I couldn’t not mention them could I? And it is amazing, The first time I saw the Boy as the nurse brought him up close to my face after a crazy labor and whirlwind c-section. I saw him and sighed in relief that he was ok, and then I did a double take, cause the bald, blue-eyed, porcelain-skinned baby I had been imagining was red, and scrunched-up and wrinkly, and had a headful of long, dark hair. Shocking! and Amazing! And the first time I saw the Girl drop out of me (literally) and I thought, I made you, I made you from scratch, and I brought you here into this world. I dare any of you to say childbirth isn’t amazing!

2. I’ve been very lucky to have travelled a lot in my life and there are many, many beautiful, amazing, wondrous places in the world (many of which I still haven’t seen). But the first time I went to New York as an adult, with my husband, we dropped our bags off at the airport and went strolling around the city straight off a nine hour intercontinental flight and… I don’t know if it was the jet-lag, the fact that we hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hour or the butt and jaw clenching cold that is New York in February, but I stopped in the middle of Broadway and turned slowly in a circle on the sidewalk and just took it all in. The smells, the energy, the people jostling me to get by, the lights… and it took my breath away.

3. Last year in Sao Paolo (Brazil) I saw the most amazing / ridiculous thing I have ever seen in my life: a dog in a stroller. A dog in a stroller. And that’s all I have to say on the subject.

4. My kids standing unassisted. (See how I just slipped another child-related one in there.) Our children do the most surprising / amazing things on a daily basis, but the first time they pull themselves up off the floor on their own and stand, my God, the sense of accomplishment, the surprise, the pride in their eyes, the fear (am I going to fall, what the heck am I doing?), the glee. Amazing.

5. Copacabana on New Year’s. If you ever get the chance, spend New Year’s in Rio de Janeiro, it’s so worth it. As the sun sets on December 31^st people go to the beach and put flowers in the water as an offering to Yemanja, the goddess of water and fishermen. Everyone dresses in white in Brazil for the New Year and as the evening progresses the beaches fill up with more and more people and by midnight you no longer see the beach, just a sea of people, ringing in the New Year in front of the Ocean. One of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.

6. The first snowfall every year. Every winter I spend a great deal of time tweeting and posting statuses (statii?) on facebook about how much I effing hate the snow, shoveling snow, my car getting stuck in the snow, snow getting into my boots, socks, pants, neck, hair… but every year finds me staring in wonder at the sky when the first snowdrops feather down my upturned face.

7. My Grandma on her 101^st birthday, because really, she’s a hundred and one. She was born in 1910 almost a century before my own children, she was a flapper as a teenager, she remembers both World Wars, she rode horses cause there were no cars when she was little. I’m not even going to mention technology. And you know what’ll be even more amazing? My Grandma on her 102^nd birthday, next February.

I have pictures to post with almost all these entries, but it’s 1am here and I’m linking up without them. I’ll add them tomorrow, if anyone’s curious enough to come back!

Up, up and away! (Would you like to buy a watch?)

I’ve been meaning to write all week, I have loads of stuff to post, instead I’ve been packing. I packed for three days straight. And, no, I’m not moving anywhere. On Tuesday I packed an insane amount of stuff to take down to the beach house. I packed all day. Then on Wednesday I went down to the beach house to take a huge carload of stuff and once unloaded, I realized I had taken practically nothing at all. How does this happen? I mean, the car was full, to the brim, and yet the house is still empty. I didn’t even manage to take the vacuum cleaner down there cause it wouldn’t fit in the car, cause of all the stuff. And yet I didn’t even manage to make a dent in outfitting the apartment, all that work was like a drop in the ocean. I’m flummoxed.

Thursday and Friday I spent packing for our trip to Sardinia. As the beach apartment is still uninhabitable this summer, due to the lack of doors and windows, we decided to book a little last minute vacation to one of the most beautiful beach areas in Italy. Unfortunately, rather than learn from my fellow bloggers’ mistakes I decided to fly Cheap Ass Air (I refer you now to Mrs Fancy’s posts on the subject, this one here in particular, I’m blatantly stealing this moniker from her). It seemed convenient enough, CAA (cheap ass air) was flying straight from the small airport near our town, we only had an twenty minute drive to get there, much better than the usual hour and a half minimum to the next biggest airport, which still isn’t a real international airport (that’s almost three hours away), so we thought it was the best solution ever.

Let me just say, and please learn from my mistakes (though I know you’ll ignore me, much like I ignored Fancy) flying Cheap Ass Air is never the best solution, ever, and rarely is it the cheapest. In any case, armed with my previously acquired Fancy knowledge, I tried to dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s when reserving the ticket, I got extra baggage allowance, paid extra to bring my carseat, tried and failed to buy the Girl a seat even though she’s under two but apparently it’s impossible on CAA (although Fancy begs to differ), basically I did everything short of a propitiatory rain dance to ensure a smooth flying experience for my family.

Apart from the fact that we left from the only airport in the world to not have even the memory of a luggage cart anywhere on it’s premises (and though I haven’t actually flown from every airport in the world I have gone through airports that were nothing more than a hut alongside a landing strip and I’ve always found a luggage cart, but nary a one to be found here), I’d like to list a few highlights from the eventful, albeit short, thankfully, flight:

- apparently CAA is CA all around, there are advertisements everywhere you look. On the overhead luggage compartments (which incidentally we were strongly discouraged to use by the inflight personnel that kept repeating to please put our luggage underneath the seat in front of us first) there were all manner of ads, the most prolific one encouraged me to “Discover Lanzarote”, there is no place I’d rather discover less now, so not very effective advertising, in my opinion, but that’s neither here nor there.

Then again ads on the subway (metro, underground, tube, or whatever else you’d like to call it) are common enough, of course, but a subway ticket is a couple of euros at most so it’s acceptable, I would think, to try and cover the cost of running that service with a few ads, but in this case though Cheap Ass Air may be cheap (allegedly) it’s not that cheap.

- They never just shut the hell up. They are constantly on the speaker system telling you about some great deal or other you just can’t miss. Really, they just need to shut up. And when they’re not telling you to buy something or fly somewhere they put music on. I realize I’m no spring chicken, so I’m not hip or cool but really, what happened to just napping in flight to the soothing white noise provided by the plane's engines?

- They charge 3 euros for a cup of instant coffee. Now, I was travelling with both kids, one of which was on my lap because despite my attempting repeatedly to throw money at them they simply would not sell me a ticket for her, and a husband who was not on top form for the trip so I wasn’t about to risk drinking a cup of coffee (which I actually really needed, if only as a respite from the hell of travelling with two kids under four and a sick husband) but 3 euros, seriously??

- The flight attendants were actually something much more akin to those nut jobs that work on the likes of the shopping channel. They tried to entice us with the following items: smokeless cigarettes (really), perfume (not duty free of course, so why the hell would I buy perfume on an airplane?), t-shirts and (wait for it…) a watch, a Geox watch available in a variety of colors, oh and the three euro cup of instant coffee. All this on a slightly over an hour-long flight.

But the highlight of the trip, in my opinion, was provided by a fellow passenger; you see, halfway through the flight the guy sitting across the aisle from us calls the flight attendant to complain that he wasn’t getting any reception on his phone. He wasn’t getting reception on his phone. I laughed for like half an hour once the husband shared this little gem with me, it was a nervous laugh due to the possibility of all of us plummeting to a premature and violent death due to this guy’s stupidity, but still he lifted my mood for a minute so his good deed for the day is done.

Anyway, we’ve made it to our destination, I’ve unpacked, we’ve eaten, the kids are bathed and sleeping and tomorrow we’ll start exploring, though let me just say this, first impression: not great.

I won’t expound on that any further cause I’m hoping my negative outlook is due to a bit of traveller fatigue, but let’s just say that my next post will likely be about why one should never disregard the negative reviews on Tripadvisor, even if they are few and far between. As the Boy said when he saw his room “can we go home now?”. 

All you need is love

The boy has a lovey that he loves more than anything else in the whole entire world. It’s a stuffed lion, his name is Leo (as I so imaginatively named him), and he’s been the boy’s best friend in the whole entire universe since he was five months old. Now, as I have extensive experience in the matter, I bought the boy three Leo’s which we’ve been alternating for the past almost three years. Several months ago, however, he totally surprised us by not only being able to tell the Leos apart, he also had a “favorite”. “Favorite” Leo, soon became Leo di Nanna (Bedtime Leo) and was immediately pronounced housebound by yours truly. There was no way that I was going to let Bedtime Leo out of the house, if the Boy wouldn’t sleep without him, what if I lost him?

So the three Leos soon became one housebound Bedtime Leo and two interchangeable “Leo di Fuori” (Outside Leo). Whenever we go out, I am almost maniacally careful about Leo’s whereabouts, I practically check I have Leo before I check whether I’ve got the two kids in tow.  Well, last week I did the unimaginable. I lost one of the Outside Leos (losing Bedtime Leo would’ve resulted in my immediate suicide, or more likely matricide by the boy). I’ve looked for him everywhere. He’s gone. (sniff)

As was predictable, concurrently to the “Day of Great Tragedy” wherein I demonstrated my failure at being a good mother by losing one of my son’s favorite toys, the Girl started showing an interest in Outside Leo. (She’s not allowed near Bedtime Leo, no one is.)
I never managed to get the Girl to bond with a lovey, she decided early on that I was her lovey and no stuffed animal or soft blanket or even binky could replace me, so there. Anyway, now that she’s showing an interest in Outside Leo, I find myself in a bit of a bind, if Outside Leo is to be promoted to the position of the Girl’s Bedtime Leo, then I need to get more Leos to fill in the position of Outside Leos. Following?

Here’s where my life predictably complicates itself beyond what is acceptable for man or beast.  I went online and after much searching I found out the following: the store in Houston where I had bought Bedtime Leo, and successively, Outside Leos 1 and 2 has gone out of business; Ty, the company that produces Leo has discontinued the product; Leo sells used on ebay for $19.99; he sells new on amazon for $61.59 (yeah, I thought it was a typo when I read it the first time too); on another toy store website Leo sells new for $99.99 (so technically Amazon’s price is a total steal).

Oh, I also found out his official name is Ty Lux “Catnap” Lion and as one of the website put it, he’s “retired”. How cute. Now, I bought Outside Leo # 2 last year for $9.99, isn’t selling him for $61.59 a year later pure speculation? Are they just trying to bank off the needs of desperate mothers?? Thankfully Nana saved the day and a replacement Outside Leo is on it’s way to her house from Amazon and then it will be fed-exed across the pond to the waiting arms of her grandkids. No expense is too great for a doting grandmother.

But, I tell you, that Leo is staying in his original box, with all the tags attached until tragedy strikes and I lose another one of the original Leos. Because if I make it a few years with no major mishaps that baby’s being sold for like two hundred bucks.

I mean, seriously, how on earth can they sell a stuffed animal for that much money. As a friend suggested, I probably didn’t even lose Outside Leo, he's just been kidnapped. I’ll be on the lookout for a ransom note. 

The I-Phone is my new babysitter

There’s an ongoing battle at our house, actually it’s two battles (does that make it an ongoing war?). The point of contention of this war is the iphone, we have three, there’s four of us. Two of us are under three and have to share an iphone, though they really have no business messing with an iphone at all at their age. The iphone exerts some weird kind of magnetic pull on my children that I honestly don’t understand. It’s not like they need a phone, in fact, they’re both still iffy on what the phone is, and why we talk to it when it doesn’t answer back and why sometimes it talks like grandma. So what do they do with it? Well, of course, they imitate us, so they babble at the phone holding it to their ears, generally upside down, as they pace the living room. And then there’s you tube. They bring me the iphone, with the you tube app already open (they’re 1 and 3) and then want me to search for whatever they feel like watching at any given time, like “cars, mama” (3 year old) “vroom, vroom” (1 year old) or “tellytubbies, mama” (3 year old) “lalla, lalla” (1 year old), and so on and so forth. I pretty sure they’re going to learn to spell just so they can bypass me and just search for the stuff themselves.

Anyway, I try to limit their use of the iphone, for obvious reasons, but then when in the midst of a tantrum, or hissy fit, or whine-fest, I find myself surreptitiously reaching for it and waving it in front of them, much like a dealer waving crack in front of a junkie because nothing, nothing shuts them up faster. But unlike the dealer I later feel terrible, the guilt rises and engulfs me, I’m a terrible mother, I should distract them, entertain them, tell them captivating stories…. And then… I realize that as I’m sitting there, wrought with guilt… I’m also checking twitter or facebook or my blog stats… on my iphone. Hmmm. Methinks this is a clear case of teaching by example. I guess the iphone’s not so bad after all… it may even teach them to spell sooner.

p.s. I apologize for my overly enthusiastic use of the ellipsis in this post.

O melhor bolo de chocolate do mundo and other things I learned in Sao Paulo

We’re back from our trip but, as promised, I have a few more interesting, yet totally inane, facts I learned in Sao Paulo, that I wanted to share with you before going ahead and forgetting all about them (I am not renown for my stellar memory).

As an aside to the wait-staff bit in the previous Sao Paulo post, we went to a restaurant (Rufino’s – awesome fish) where, going along with the marine motif, the waiters’ uniforms were similar to ship captains’ uniforms and had stripes on the jacket sleeves.  So halfway through the meal I noticed that some jackets had two stripes, some had four, some six and some none at all and after a few minutes of thought I realized that the stripes reflected each waiter’s position in the Brazilian wait-staff hierarchy… no stripes clears the table, two stripes takes care of drinks etc. Handy.

Despite the fact that we managed to leave with no less than three suitcases, I didn’t really have a lot of room for toys and had decided to buy a few things there to entertain the kids during our stay. So on our first day we decide to fight the jetlag by taking a brisk walk in the heavy humidity in search for a toy store and found out something astonishing. Legos are insanely expensive. Insanely. Expensive. Like three to four times as much as in Europe, possibly even more compared to the US. Considering my kids love legos, which provide hours and hours of entertainment (hence, I love legos too) I was sorely disappointed and kind of at a loss as to how to remedy this problem. But then I realized, hey, I’m in Brazil, the land of cheap, good quality imitations of name brand stuff so I found imitation legos at a great price. They don’t click together with real legos perfectly, but that provided many extra minutes of entertainment in itself. Who would’ve thunk it! The lesson here? In Brazil, anything that they can slap an import tax on will become too costly to make it worth the expense. On the other hand, if it’s produced in Brazil it will be much, much cheaper – like the new stroller I bought (a Brazilian brand that belongs to Peg Perego) and surprisingly, the Cars cars.

Another thing I noticed this time, and in truth I seem to notice it every time I go to Brazil, but then I forget about it, so it’s a novel experience the next time I go to Brazil and notice it once again, is how slow everyone is here. I’m not being derogatory, it’s just a fact. People move more slowly than they do around here, I kept getting startled glances as I overtook people on the sidewalk, like “Whoa Nellie! where’s the fire?” and then they’d look amused to see that that was just the way I walked. They generally move more slowly, you ask for a coffee and the barista looks like he’s moving in slow motion. Initially, it’s very frustrating, I spend the first few days wanting to constantly scream “come on, Come On, COME ON!” while clapping my hands together angrily at people as they do things at their leisurely pace and I’m tapping my foot away in agitation. But then thankfully I start to relax, and get into the mind set of “eh, what’s the rush?” otherwise I’d literally go insane, or get arrested for assaulting someone out of sheer frustration. Neurotic? Maybe.

One of the things I loved, loved, about Brazil is a place called the “Poupatempo” – the time saver – I loved this because I live in a third world country (no, not developing country, but honest to goodness third world like we haven’t seen since colonial times) where the whole concept of a government office doing anything to save you time is so contradictory that we can’t even image such utopia. Whereas in Brazil, there’s one place where you can get all your documents (except for your passport), you can pay your taxes, you can get your voting status updated, you can get all of your records (criminal or whatever). All in the same place. You can even get your picture taken there and pay all the necessary fees. All in the same place. This may seem obvious to many of you, but I’m betting you don’t live in Italy, I wrote about this very subject here if you’re interested on a little background. Anyway, I was amazed. I didn’t manage to get what I needed, cause I have to go to the consulate first, but still. Oh, and there’s a large, fully manned information desk as soon as you walk in, along with an extremely clear, color-coded map of where you need to go to get what you need and little colored lines on the ground, that you follow to actually physically get there. Amazing.

I took the kids to a great, big, gorgeous park with a lake and swans and all in the center of Sao Paolo one morning when in the throes of a pretty severe bought of cabin fever, and saw this amazing sight:

I just had to take a picture because I swear to you, I had no clue that someone somewhere had come up with the absolutely most ridiculous way to make money off of people who have no control over their spending habits. The dog stroller. Never, for the life of me, would I have been able to fathom such a thing if it hadn’t been paraded right in front of me. My mother later proceeded to tell me that not only had she already seen them around, but they made sense for dog owners, particularly of the small dog variety. I was flabbergasted and could come up with no sane response on two feet, but now that I’ve had time to think about it… really? Really? You need to buy your dog a stroller? I mean I have children, human children, and I can’t wait to get rid of my damn stroller cause it’s such a pain in the ass to lug around, though, admittedly, less of a pain in the ass than lugging around the children, but as soon as they can walk for any extent of time without whining the entire way the stroller goes to charity. And yet there are people out there who buy strollers for their dogs. It’s a damn dog, for crying out loud, it’s got four paws, two more than humans, so as far as I’m concerned it should walk. In fact, the saying is “walking the dog” not “strolling the dog”.

And lastly, near my Vovo’s house (101 year old Grandma) there’s a small shop called “O melhor bolo de chocolate do mundo”. You would hardly notice it, in fact, I hadn’t ever noticed it on my previous trips. But once you read the name “The best chocolate cake in the world” it piques your interest, and you really want to find out if it’s true. So our last day there, under a heavy drizzle, we went to try it. I’m not a chocolate cake fan, so I don’t know if it actually is the best chocolate cake in the world, but it was pretty darn good. If you don’t believe me, just ask the Girl.

Stuff that amazes me

That it’s December 12^th and I’ve managed to get most of my Christmas shopping done. It is a turn of events so rare that I’m worried what the repercussions will be on a cosmic level. I am reeling from disbelief. Seriously, the kids are set for X-mas from parents and Santa and for the Epiphany (Jan 6^th), which in Italy is a holiday where an ugly witch (the Befana) puts coal or candy (and at my house some small presents) in a stocking for kids depending on whether they were good or bad. When I was little I loved being “bad” because we got this thoroughly yummy fake coal candy. If we hadn’t had the Worst Christmas Of All Time last year (and yes, from now on December 2009 will be referred to by its official title or the acronym W.C.O.A.T.) I would fear some sort of karmic retribution. Instead, here I am gearing up to enjoy the last few days before Christmas with only a handful of presents to get and cookies to bake and then I can sit smugly on my high-horse and laugh at all those last minute shoppers.

Stuff that amazes me

That I managed to go two whole, entire months without shaving, waxing, or otherwise de-hairing my legs. And the only reason I actually got off my lazy derriere and got a wax was because next Tuesday I’m going to a Spa day with my girlfriends and was too embarrassed to show up with my man legs. Oh the wonders of peer pressure. Now, should I paint my toes before Tuesday too, or is that just useless preening?

Stuff that amazes me

Today our friend D, introduced in this post, is running the Philadelphia marathon. Two weeks after NYC marathon. What is with these crazy running masochists? Blame it on the endorphins, I guess. Putting my slightly envious streak aside, I just wanted to say that D, we’re thinking of you, virtually running with you (so that’s what’s slowing you down, just so you know!), and totally cheering you on. From Italy. But if you listen closely you’ll hear us: VAI, D, VAI!

Stuff that amazes me

I announce to the Boy that we’re going to the supermarket and he starts gathering essentials: his protective eyewear, his Zorro hat, his gun, his sword, his tool kit, his lovey Leo, and his binky. Methinks he takes after his Mama, if you don’t believe me just take a look in my purse.

excuse the crap quality picture, but I'm not photoshop literate yet.