Matt is Now 27

I hope you have all gasped at the fact my title has revealed. Some will gasp because Matthew Gaetano is already 27, well on his way to 30, over half-way to 50, and 1/4 of the way to 100. How fast it went. He's so old! How can this be?

Quite naturally, others will gasp because he is only 27. He is nearing the completion of his Ph.D., is married, and has two children. I remember when he was born. I remember his piano recitals. I remember him skipping around the house. How can this be?

So, thanks to Matt's wonderful Aunt Pat, this is a little blast into my dear husband's past.

Florence Revisited: Part I

I felt that I skimped too much on my descriptions of the individual cities we saw with my parents. So, in between other posts about current events, I'm going to do a series on Florence, Rome, Verona, and Padua.

If I had to characterize Florence--or Firenze (fee-Ren-zay) as it's called in Italian--in just one way it would be the 'City of Art'. Besides having two of the most famous museums in the world, every church is overflowing with resplendent art, piazzas contain gorgeous monuments, and even the streets themselves are extraordinary works of art. My dad, who is very skilled in the various construction crafts, just could not stop marveling over the intricate stonework of arched cobblestone patterns that was painstakingly laid on every street and sidewalk.


We set out to conquer Florence's major sites in just three days, but we were adamant that we would not sacrifice quality for quantity. The Uffizi was magnificent, although overwhelming in size. Room upon room in a u-shaped building of three stories, we took in Giotto, Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, Raphael, Michaelangelo, and Boticelli. It was a stronghold of amazing artwork. Besides the famous paintings, which were obviously delightful to behold, I think my favorite was the unfinished painting by Leonardo da Vinci. I was able to see a master's painting in progress. It was like standing in a piazza, glancing over da Vinci's shoulder, and watching him make a portrait come increasingly more to life, layer by layer of successively richer shades of oil paint and . The Accademia was much smaller and manageable and housed Michaelangelo's famed David. I was astonished at just how tall he was. Not only larger than life, but so large he filled a two-story room, it seemed. I must admit, I felt a little sheepish sitting on the benches behind the statue and staring at his "buns of marble." Look away, look away. Well, to be honest...it was actually his lower calves that were at eye level.

Despite being an artist myself and truly loving art, I am always astounded at how exhausting art museums can be. I feel like, from the moment I set foot in an art museum, I begin to wilt. It's like Matt in any store. Does anyone else feel this? From the looks on everyone else's faces, I conjecture that I'm not alone. Perhaps I have thirty good minutes before my feet begin to drag. I console myself by saying it's just too much art all at once, and it's hard to fully appreciate art out of its original context. I still feel that I need to look at every painting and read every description, even though I can feel my blood sugar plummeting and my attention shortening. After all, they're good enough to be in the Uffizi and the Accademia, the hallowed halls of Florentine Fame! (Not to mention that because of my pecuniary heritage I feel even more compulsion to really do an expensive site right and see everything.)

My perspective on art museums and sight-seeing is beginning to change. I was talking a friend of mine, an Art History Ph.D., and I asked her how she feels when seeing museums. She told me that she enjoys the art immensely but finds museums very physically and emotionally taxing. She also confessed that finds her tolerance has actually gone down with every year of education! She just blows through museums now because she knows which paintings/sculptures actually deserve attention and she doesn't bother with the descriptions. Perhaps rather than trying to get an art education by going to museums and galleries, I shall delight my fancy more. Just truly enjoying a few masterpieces should be enough for me to warrant the expense and effort, and it won't leave me wilted and weary at the end. So it is my resolve, with the blessing of an expert, to stop trying to see everything.

My New Secret...

No, I'm not pregnant. Don't worry when the day comes, I won't announce it on the blog first. Blogs are good for some things, like sharing funny stories, cute videos, and potentially insightful or at least tolerable posts, but not for such personal and life-changing news as that. I do still know the value of real interaction.

That being said, I do have a new, somewhat shameful, secret: 'little Shuffy' (my ipod Shuffle). My brothers gave it to me last year for my birthday, and I used it for both entertainment and motivation. While I was pregnant with Cate, it was especially difficult to motivate myself to clean. So, I would download the FlyLady podcasts and just listening to them would inspire me to do as she instructed. Shine your sink! It will inspire you to keep going. Work 15 minutes at a time, then rest. Tackle those "hot spots" each night and they won't become "4-star alarms." And follow my daily "mission" to systematically go through the house and de-clutter. Little Shuffy got me through the sloth of pregnancy.

After moving to York, I primarily used it for my workouts at the 'Y'. I would download a podcast from BBC and a podcast workout from Podrunner with 140-150 beats per minute. After updating myself on the state of the world from the perspective of the Brits, which usually coincided nicely with the workout becoming unbearable, Podrunner was there to save me. I coped by just ceasing to think. I became merely a beat, leg circle after leg circle (I was usually on the elliptical). The mantra was: just keep up, don't think, just keep going, don't think, just do it..

I loaded Little Shuffy with podcasts and music to entertain myself on the flight to Italy, should the children perchance fall asleep, leaving me awake, and desperate for distraction. Unlikely as it was, it actually happened. Little Shuffy to the rescue again.

Up until now Shuffy has been there to help me, to hold me up when I simply couldn't do it anymore. When I tired of putting the toys away, sweeping the floor, and doing dishes for the umpteenth time here in Italy, I remembered my trusty ipod. I loaded that baby up with music and podcasts on grammar, news, finances, Italian, and prayers. Since then, doing dishes has become a blissful escape. Not only do I learn something and take my mind off the tedious work I'm doing, I successfully tune out children shrieking (I can still hear them, don't worry, they're just less...loud). I used to dread the thirty-five minute walk home from my Italian class. It was dark, cold, and I was bored. Now, thanks to Little Shuffy, I actually look forward to my walk home. It's a chance to stretch my legs and learn something new. Last Monday, I actually walked a few extra blocks just to hear the end of the podcast!

When Matt offered to trade me dinner dishes for getting the kids ready for bed, I jumped at the opportunity. He had no idea how much this pleased me. While he wrestled with kids, changed diapers, read stories, and cajoled them into bed, I got to stand there, tune the chaos out, and listen to something. I can't believe I'm letting my dirty little secret out of the bag.

Well, I think he was on to me, anyway. The offer of a trade didn't last very long.

That's how he swings

Brainwashing at Breakfast

Still flush with excitement over the recent discovery of "water"--it is apparently neither liquid, gas, nor frozen--on the Moon, Matt tries to brainwash our son at breakfast.

"So, Dominic, do you want to build a space ship?"
"Yeah," staring at his granola.
"Are you going to be an aeronautical engineer or astrophysicist when you grow up?"
"Yeah," he doesn't bat an eye.
"Dominic, do you want to fly to the moon with Daddy? It'll be awesome. It's the moon...in the sky!" Daddy clearly displays far more enthusiasm than his son.
"Okay!" After sixty seconds of convincing, he's finally sold. "We gotta get to work." Mr. Boss takes charge.
Adding my two cents, I chime in, "But you'll be far from Mommy."

Then the next day.
"So, you still ready to go to the moon?" Daddy prompts to see if his brainwashing has worked.
"Yeah. We'll go far to Mommy."

Four Star Alarm!!!

Alert: We have lost a ragged pink doggy and an even more ragged blue doggy. These are precious items and a reward will be offered for finding them.

I don't know where, I don't know how. But it's a problem, that I know.

I can no longer put the kids to bed at the same time for naps or bedtime! I must resort to waiting until one falls sufficiently asleep, clutching the sole remaining doggy (blue) or cushioning their head with its shapeless comfort, before I sneak in and pluck it out of their arms so that I can give it to the other child so that they can fall asleep with the precious--and indispensable--doggy.

We tried buying Cate a replacement stuffed animal. It's a plucky yellow ducky that is quite squishy. She likes it okay and will even sleep with it if she's in a happy mood, but if it's been a rough day and she really needs comfort, she goes right for Dominic's doggy. It's hard to defend it as Dominic's personal property when Cate lost her identical (though pink) doggy. What am I to do?

(It's Baby Gund "Spunky" #58377 if anyone ever sees one...)

Buying Furniture for Children's Minds

As I read the twenty or so children's books we have here in Padova, I am struck by the importance they have in the education of my children. At two and half, Dominic can already memorize large portions of stories. Every night he recites the story of Baby Moses/Adult Moses while we flip the pages in his little Toddler Bible. He anticipates the action and can name everything in the pictures. He understands humor and likes rhyme. I am often surprised by the books that become his favorites. They often seem more complicated than I think he should be able to enjoy. Currently, The Saggy Baggy Elephant is at the top of his list.

Stories teach children right and wrong. They should make them love good heroes and despise villains, praising virtue and condemning vice. It is moral training on the most basic level. Now, I don't think there's anything wrong with reading a-moral stories. Silly Stories with Bert and Ernie is just that, silly. It may not develop their noble sensibilities, but it does foster a love of reading. I tend to think that this "lighter" reading is just fine, so long as the greater portion of their literature is more substantive. I certainly have a long way to go before having any sort of comprehensive view of children's lit. Thankfully, my future contains thousands more readings of children's books during which I will have the time to ponder these questions (at least between the kids questions of "Mommy, can you count them?" "What's that?" "What's he eating that for?" etc).

Anyway, I was wondering, what are everyone's favorite books from their childhood? Which books are so important or wonderful that you think my children will be deprived if they do not read them?