The party rocked

the party

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

Baptism in Terno d’Isola is reminiscent of an assembly line factory on the brink of breakdown and chaos.

Thirteen babies, a rowdy and irreverent crowd of friends and family, one angry and frustrated priest, one disturbingly calm priest, a hot and humid day and the required decorum of clothing all combined to make a very stressful and uninspiring event for me.

Oh, and Amalia wanted to crawl up to the altar, grab the baby next to her and/or climb over the back of the pew where Manuel, the five-year-old son of her padrino and madrina was waiting with plastic figurines. . .

But the party afterward ROCKED.

The show of love for Amalia from her family and friends filled me with joy and gratitude.

And that joy and gratitude stayed with me up until the doctor at the public vaccination station slammed his hand on the table and yelled at me. That sort of dampened my rosy glow a bit. But it’s coming back now.

two days before her seventh month. . .

Amalia and broccolli leaf

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

this baby has a tooth!

the garden

my broccolli

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

Apparently broccoli is not spelled with two “l”s. Thank goodness for Flickr’s spell-check.

The garden is a mess.

The tomatoes suffered some kind of blight: either the manure, my father-in-law or rabbits. The bee-guy put forth the rabbit hypothesis and I’m going with that one, under great pressure. It reminds me of when I was teaching and everyone would tell me how great I was and I would try to tell them the truth (”No, really, it was a horrible day: I yelled at the kids, wasn’t organized for any lessons and let them use up my entire stash of colored paper and tape building “parks of horror.”"), but no one wanted to listen.

Weeds are everywhere, which isn’t so bad except that the farmer felt it was so out-of-control that he was motivated to spray herbicide in part of my field. Luckily not next to my plants. Trying to work with others is REALLY REALLY HARD. Plus he took my water away today (?) and I couldn’t water anything. Sigh.

But there are many bright spots: the remaining tomatoes are pretty, and now carefully weeded and tied-up. The eggplants and peppers, while small, are healthy. The potatoes are robust and flowering. And the broccoli, beets and cabbage look beautiful.

Now I have to clean the house.

But lest you think it’s all work and no play, check out the photos from our perfect picnic on Tuesday!

memorial day

woodstock memorial day parade

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

beautiful day, all sunshine and time with dad/grandaddy.
today amalia and i are both sick with colds.
going to do more printing out in the studio with mom.
but first, another cup of coffee!

quilting round table

quilting round table

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

she thought everyone
was there just for her
and she laughed and laughed
the whole hour.

Feet

feet

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

So long when new,
now just brief pudges
accenting the columnar legs,
with sharp, peeling nails
im afraid to cut,
push, push pushing
against the ground,
against me,
against anything,
against everything
in the struggle to stand,
in the struggle to move,
in the struggle to move forward.

Garden Update

Brennan’s garden

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

Worked in Brennan’s garden some yesterday (accompanied by a standing Amalia).

Lots of time to reflect on my own garden, on all the mistakes already made (new manure burning my seedlings), on all the plans already gone awry (melons and three kinds of beans and all kinds of flowers STILL waiting to be planted!). . . on my absolute inability to micromangae the growth and development of this dream of mine.

I never realized my need for control, my tendency towards perfection-ism, until Amalia’s birth. My journey since then, these past six months, has so much been about learning to let go a bit.

A good bit. But still just a bit. I mean, I am still ME.

So, my reflections are also on how in a few short months this funny garden of mine has changed my life, my relationship with my child, my community, my present and my future. How beautiful it is to me, not because of straight rows, lush growth or any such thing but rather because I am so completely in love with the process of it, the DOING of it.

And so there is no update, I’ve decided, because the list of what I have done is not nearly so important as the simple fact that I am often there doing what I can, being present and working, involving Amalia and making connections with the people and place that are mine, at least for now.

Six Months

mothers day

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

She eats broccolli, bannana, apple, pear, avocado on toast, pasta and beans and rice.
She scoots with great speed after things like cameras, phones and computers.
She had her second vaccinations and screamed bloody murder.
She had her first cold, much to her parents’ chagrin.
She made her first international flight.
She has become more patient with car travel.
She sits well on her own.
She holds both her feet.
Sometimes she sucks her thumb.
She bends forward and stretches quite far to reach things.
She likes to stand up, holding on to hands or stools or boxes or tables.
She likes to take things out of a basket and scatter them all around.
She likes to talk on the phone with papa’.
She is fascinated by her cousin Hallman.
She checks to make sure you are watching when she does something she’s proud of.
And then she smiles and laughs.
She grunts with excitement, a woof-woofing noise.
She cackles and squeals and coos and yells and whines and cries and sobs and mumurs.
When she cries she says, “mumm mumm mumm,” and breaks my heart.
When she first wakes up she lies in bed and coos and smiles and holds her feet and snuggles with papa’.
She is fabulous.
She is beautiful.
She is funny.
She is watchful.
She is curious.
She is Amalia.
She is Molly.

Amalia Amalia Amalia

“When Mother Reads Aloud”

grandma reading

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

from “Favorite Poems Old and New”

When Mother reads aloud, the past
Seems real as every day;
I hear the tramp of armies vast,
I see the spears and lances cast,
I join the trilling fray;
Brave knights and lasies fair and proud
I meet when Mother reads aloud.

When Mother reads aloud, far lands
Seem very near and true;
I cross the desert’s gleaming sands,
or hunt the jungle’s prowling bands,
Or sail the ocean blue.
Far heights, whose peaks the cold mists shroud,
I scale, when Mother reads aloud.

When Mother reads aloud, I long
For noble deeds to do-
To help the right, redress the wrong;
It seems so easy to be strong,
So simple to be true,
O, thick and fast the visions crowd
My eyes, when Mother reads aloud.

Here now

Grandma, Amalia and Willy

Originally uploaded by nonsonoitaliana

We are here, have been for four days. I think four days anyway- it’s all kind of blurry. A happy blur, tinged a little bittersweet because Ilario isn’t with us.

The trip was just plain old fine. Endless (18 hours door to door) but fine. I ran into a woman I knew and worked with in Cleveland, and she helped pass the last two hours on the plane. Lucky, that.

Amalia has been sick with a bad cold, on top of being out of sorts from the time change and location change and people change. She misses her papa’, she has difficulty breathing with her stuffy nose, her voice is raspy and low and she’s a bit cranky BUT she’s in love with her cousins and auntie, thrilled to be reunited with her grandma and soaking up her granddaddy’s sugar.

I am going to bed RIGHT NOW.