Weaning

Solid foods, quantities, breast milk, time between meals...I'm confused. Just like every stage, I can collect information, read and research, but ultimately I have to follow my instincts.

We waited until Luca was six months old before introducing solid foods. We managed not to succumb to the pressure that was being placed on us by various people, to introduce it sooner. The result? A kid who eats everything. He never pushed food out of his mouth because he didn't know how to eat, he never refuses a vegetable, he grabs the spoon out of my hand and feeds himself. The introduction of solid foods has been a smooth process.

But breastmilk? I would like to breastfeed until Luca is a year old. He needs milk and if I'm able, I would rather be the one to provide it than to give him formula. But there is a lot of confusion about what that means. Does "breastfeeding" mean every meal or can it mean just once or twice a day. I can't provide every meal anymore as my milk doesn't flow in the quantities that it once did. It's clear that more often than not, he's just pacifying himself rather than getting a proper meal out of me.

So I tried to take it slow, I replaced one breastfeeding with one solid food meal one at a time. Over the course of six weeks he went from all milk meals to two per day. Things seemed to be going smoothly until I crashed. My hormones took a nose dive. I cried. I laid in bed. I tried to fight the guilt.

I was simultaneously getting pressure from one side to give up breastfeeding altogether, and from the other side that I wasn't breastfeeding enough. That I wasn't practicing attachment parenting unless I breastfed him for at least two years and more than twice a day. During this stage I've realized more than ever before how much of parenting is ignoring the comments that can saturate you from the outside and dull your own instincts. Everyone has an opinion about how other people should raise their kids. But I have to do what I feel is right, what is right for Luca and what is right for all of us as a family. Because this is my family.

I do enjoy having more time. I remember how trapped I felt sitting on the couch those first few weeks feeding Luca, what seemed like, around the clock. I couldn't leave the house for fear that in moments Luca would start screaming to eat again. I didn't feel like there was much to life anymore except being a milk machine. Now I like that we can go on an adventure without me having to find a comfortable place to whip out the boob. We can sit down and have a playful meal, getting food all over ourselves, no matter where we are.

I am pretty happy with where we're at now. Luca is breastfed in the morning and at night, with healthy, organic meals and snacks in between. I still fight the guilt and sometimes I still get sad. And unfortunately, this is something that my husband can't empathize with. He won't ever know what it's like to go from being the center of your newborn's universe, to being just one of many stars.

Carnivale

Henry James wrote, "And yet do what you will you can't really elude the Carnival." That was in the late 1800's. Now it's hard to find any remnants of Carnivale. You have to search it out, and when you do, the events are primarily for kids. Being a person who loves this sort of thing, I went looking. Where to start? Just follow the kids in costume.

For two weeks you see kids dressed up all around Rome. When I asked Lorenzo where they were going, he said, "Nowhere, they just walk around like this." No trick or treating, no definitive destination, but at the ready to throw confetti at one another or engage in a silly string fight. Unlike Mardi Gras in New Orleans, there are no beads, no hangovers and no regrets. Here you'll only find marionettes, clowns and horses. The celebrations don't seem to have much to do with getting in that last taste of your vice before giving it up for lent. Back in James' day the confetti was thrown by women to attract the attention of their male counterparts. Although little girls may still throw confetti, the motivations are not the same.

I find it interesting that the Romans have toned down their Carnevale celebrations while the Americans have adopted them. James wrote, "An unsophisticated American is wonderstruck at the number of persons, of every age and various conditions, whom it costs nothing in the nature of an ingenuous blush to walk up and down the streets in the costume of a theatrical supernumerary....Our vices are certainly different; it takes those of the innocent sort to be so ridiculous." I don't know if it's innocence that encourages the crazy, out of handedness that takes place at Mardi Gras, but their is surely a lapse in self-consciousness. At least for the night, until the sun comes up again.

Sleep!

Sleep deprivation really takes a toll. It's incredible. Luca, just started sleeping through the night. The accumulation of seven months of sleep deprivation can make anyone moody. It's amazing how this little man can be a perfect angel during the day, not making as much as a single tear, while at night becoming a true Italian criminal. Sleep deprivation zaps your immune system, destroys any chance for creative thought, increases stress and sensitivity and can sometimes make one react with anger to things.

But then you get a good night's sleep and the world's possibilities open up to you. You remember who you are and the things you enjoy. You remember that those things still exist; that they didn't actually get sucked away into the black hole of parenthood. You remember that you love being a mom, that you love to play and make your little boy laugh. Because laughing makes everything better.

Yes, some days are hard, but some days are truly fun and inspiring. Last week I ventured out to meet some Americans for a wine tasting. I walked through Rome at night, all lit up, a bit of magic behind every corner. Rome's beauty is illuminated tenfold at night. I was alone, making my way through the narrow streets. I passed a group of American college students lugging backpacks to the nearest hostel, I dodged the lit cigarettes of old men talking passionately with their hands, I inched past a couple looking at a map. I walked past them all, remembering the streets to turn onto, recognizing the little restaurant that leads into Campo de Fiori, remembering that I live here.

No, I'm no longer the young, free traveler experiencing Italy for the first time. Stars in my eyes, waiting for traveler's kharma to lead me to some new place or new person or some crazy coincidental run-in that would make the whole trip worthwhile. But this life is still an adventure and this city still has a lot to teach me. And that night, at the wine tasting, the girl hosting it went to UC Santa Cruz, interesting coincidence...

Some Days Can be Hard

Overall I am loving it here. Sunshine, good food, beach trips, a grandma to take our little pierlinpino whenever we need, free rent, little work, lots of family time, new inspirations, becoming fluent in a foreign language. But character building doesn't come from sitting on the couch watching t.v., it comes from the struggles that life throws out. Some days can be a struggle.

I have a problem with dependence. I hate it. I need time alone, I need to do things my way, I need to feel like I have things under control. In Portland I knew how things worked. If I needed a plumber, I looked one up online and then asked for recommendations. If I had a question about Luca, I called my awesome pediatrician. If the phone rang, I would answer it. Marriage and parenting with someone is hard enough. Now Lorenzo is my crutches too.

We do surprisingly well; both working from home, taking care of Luca and spending time together. But there are days, when we both stubbornly think that what we want for Luca is what's best for him, when parenting discussions spiral into personal attacks. We try so hard to convince the other person why we're right and they're wrong, that we forget what we're really talking about. It's an interesting thing, trying to come to a middle ground in regards to parenting. I just assumed Lorenzo would have trusted my instincts and defaulted to my ideas. Before women's suffrage he would have let me decide everything. I guess this period is a period of men's suffrage. Now men get a vote.

Lorenzo has instincts too and strong ideas about parenting. That's why I love him, he cares, a lot. It doesn't always make things any easier though.

Everyday in a marriage you have the opportunity to learn and grow. As long as you recognize the opportunity to change and you don't let your stubbornness rule you. You HAVE to compromise, you have to find the middle ground and you have to have a short memory. You have to do it for that little person who can't speak up for themselves.