Family Packed weekend

BUSY weekend!

On Thursday I was all excited for a night away and as I jumped into a very late shower, Dave was entertaining our "fur children"...

When I got out, this is what I found...

On Friday, my mother and I put the roof down on her convertible (all with many jokes to 'Thelma and Lousie') and drove to Buffalo for some light outlet shopping before turning right around and stopping at our destination - a lovely resort/spa in Niagara. This is one "perk" of her job - she is often invited out on these "fam" trips, "fam" to represent "familiarization" to check out a venue, hotel or other location. This is all to basically wine and dine her into using their facilities for one of her company's big events. My mother works for a very large communications company and she is the director for events in the business sector. Or as I like to call her "the head honcho for parties". Luckily I got to tail along on this trip because it involved the Shaw Festival, and my father was not interested. We were definitely treated well to our dinner and then swept away to see "An Ideal Husband" an Oscar Wilde play at the Shaw Festival. I loved it- I walked away with an excellent stage English accent saying things like "quite so" and "shall we to supper?" We entered our room, tired from a very full day to a lovely arrangement of chocolate covered strawberries, and sugar cookies. I divulged to my mom that if I were in her position I would be easily persuaded to hold events at any location as long as they treated me to chocolate covered strawberries.

The next morning we ate an amazing breakfast and had I not left my phone in the room I would have taken a picture of the glorious breakfast buffet. In my mind I imagine the dining area of heaven to be quite like our breakfast area - white crisp linens overlooking an amazing patio, smells of freshly brewed orange juice and coffee, wafts of pastry breads and breakfast meats pile together to entice every molecule of your being. The white plates of varying sizes offer a strike contrast to the brightly coloured fruit that topples them.

Since we woke up late (God bless the inventor of the "blackout curtains") we were quickly whisked back onto a bus and headed to Hillebrand winery for a tour and of course - an another amazing meal outside.

Pointing out the grapes, with my glass of Trius sparkling wine.

View from my spot at lunch - glorious.

Not to be outdone by my view, Dave sent me what he was looking at...

(yes our cat is on a leash - he loves the outdoors, but we are afraid he will run away, so we just use it as a precaution and we NEVER walk him.)

Mother and daughter team. You can see the resemblance.

Full to the brim, we said our goodbyes and headed back into the convertible back home.

Sunday was the 8th annual family picnic - and as annual as the picnic, came the rain - we still pressed on as usual. As I munched on peppers, greens and fresh tomatoes I laughed with cousins and then spent some great quality time playing with my little 2nd cousin Kyla, letting Dave fend off all the family members saying "you're next!"

Zio with Kyla.

In a wink, we were back in the car off to Dave's parents for an early dinner - which we, still full from the picnic, did not eat - instead we played with our nephew, and watched Blondie play with her cousin Maurice.

My artistic photo...

Some models are so hard to work with..

I am realizing that summer is almost over - we are days away from our 1 year anniversary which will be spent in Florida and I still have so much I want to do!

SLOW DOWN SUMMER!

Rain, Rain and Poop!

These are the days that people think about when someone says "we are going to get a dog".

These are the days that people remember what happened to make them re-think there decision of getting a dog

These are the days you want to throw up your hands and say "I surrender!"

...

So what is my "day"?

Well this morning at 5am (as per usual) the cat came and tried to stir Dave and I from our sleep. We would usual ignore him until 6am but now with Blondie - she starts to whine, we assume she is whining about the cat being up and playful and not her but to teach her that she will be taken immediately outside from the crate we get up and do just that. Actually since Dave is up with her at 6 - I have the midnight shift so anything in between the time we fall asleep and the 6am alarm clock is my job.

So I get up and take her outside - it is POURING rain - she cowers under my legs, I walk to encourage her to go, then she whimpers and finally cries really loudly as she attempts to run back to the house. I make her sit, follow my commands and then we go back inside. I am tired - she pees almost instantly on the front runner. (Oh, that's why I don't have carpets) I say NO! and take her right back outside to repeat the before mention outside events.

As I am coming back inside for the second time, Jack Sparrow runs outside and into the dark morning rain. I yell to Dave "Jack Sparrow ran out and I can't see!". I can hear him yell something but it's too late, I am already back out in the pouring rain looking for Jack Sparrow. I call to him as I make my way to the backyard. He must be scared, so I figure he can't go far. I notice him in the neighbours bushes on the side of the house, pick him up and cart him back inside to a waiting Dave and Blondie. I tell Dave to go back to sleep, I got it now. He retreats back upstairs but not before he can tell both Jack Sparrow and Blondie "be good! Don't kill your mother!"

Defeated, I think of what plan B could be to train Blondie to pee in the rain- I search online and think - maybe open the garage? let her pee there so it feels like we are outside. Just then I see her searching to poop. Before I can get over to her, I yell "NO!" and pick her up to bring her outside. From upstairs I can hear Dave say "what happened!?" A nugget drops from her behind onto the floor...it was all slow-motion...I step in it, almost falling, I hold her to protect her should I fall (mother instincts), foot in poop I make my way to the door. By now Dave and I have had a short conversation in loud yelps.

"What happened!?!"

"She pooped!"

"take her outside!"

"I am - I stepped in the poop!"

"are you okay?"

"I stepped in poop!!!!"

* note - the word poop was actually used - I tend to prefer to use that term over "shit" when talking about actual bowel movements. Although in retrospect I think SHIT would have been much more apropos.

Dave rushes to my aide, takes her outside as I clean her poop from my foot, and the trail left from her initial accident. We attempt to bring her outside together to show her it's not scary. We make an excellent team - a sight to see really. Two of us in matching rain coats, and flip flops, standing an inch apart with a trembling puppy in between our arms as we gently repeat "it's okay...it's okay". Despite our best efforts she still whimpers and cries, once she sits and becomes somewhat calm I give her a treat but still nothing.

Back inside she chases Jack Sparrow, Dave returns to bed, I return to minding the "children at play". I take a few seconds to run upstairs to get some paperwork I need to do on the computer downstairs - I'm up, I might as well get something done! I knock over things on my desk, making a clatter I throw my hands up and say "I give up!" I come back downstairs to some poop on the floor, and a confused Jack Sparrow trying to clean it up with imaginary litter and his paw.

Now 6 am, I feed the two monsters, the rain lets up enough that Blondie can go outside and pee, I praise her like her urine was a magical elixir to cure all the evil in the world. She whimpers and tried to run back to the house as the thunder rolls. I laugh to myself and say "you have appeased the Gods Blondie, you may return inside."

Now 6:30am, the cat has made his way back to daddy in a warm bed, with a full belly. Blondie, full and tired sleeps on my lap as I type this.

Yes. this morning was frustrating. Yes, I wanted to cry more than once. Yes, I wish I was sleeping.

BUT

These are the days that happen.

These are the days of bitter in exchange for the sweet.

This was just a morning - the day could get better.

I orginally wrote this as an e-mail to my parents and sister (which they are probably re-reading here) however my momma responded with an amazing e-mail that made me tear up - so I would like to share that here...

***

My darling daughter - things do get better - repeat this mantra because it is true. Although I only had one dog to train our beloved Roccy - and it was difficult - early mornings, chewed shoes, barking, running away. I still look back and realized there is so much reward in the unconditional love they return to you. Training a dog is soooo much shorter than training a baby.

First you have to train yourself to trust that the baby will be ok in its own bed...then you need to train your husband not to panic and yes the baby is breathing yet when he leaves the room you gently put your hand on your precious child's chest just to make sure she is indeed breathing.

Then comes try to train them to sleep more than two or three hours, then when you have succeed to sleep three hours - one morning you sleep for five hours and awake startled that something dreadful has happened and you did not hear you baby! You jump up only to see her sleeping in the small cradle next to you and sigh with pride that she slept that long. Once you have her in a routine -then teething starts and you try to calm your poor baby but nothing helps - you can't take that pain away and with every tear - your heart breaks and you pray that those darn teeth come in so she will be happy again. So many nights spend awake worrying if she make it through the night without the pain waking her...

Then come the nights of stomach pains or cramps, or colic and more sleepless nights....
Then you have some wonderful years where they sleep through the night and you rest well....but it is short lived because if you have a child like mine who has this bright inquisitive mind and imagination there are nights when they will wake you because they had a bad dream....you survive.

Then come the teenage years when they test their limits with their curfew and you spend hours on the couch waiting for them....you survive. Off to University - calm again, yet it is like the quiet storm....you still worry.

......I am only halfway thru and although I have just realized that we were talking about pets - I am talking about you....the moral of the story is that you survive, you make it through at the bumps and this my darling daughter is just the beginning for you...pets are an easy training ground there will be many little bumps but the reward is 100 fold better. I think of you and a smile immediately comes to my face!! WOW I raised an little baby and she grew into this amazing woman!!!

I would have like to continue my journey of raising you but I found myself crying softly, because truly we have had an incredible journey until now and I can't wait for Act Two!!

Love you darling xoxox

***

How can something this cute...

turn into this...

The adventures of Blondie

They say that caring for a new puppy is like having a baby, and while this may be true I will not be able to verify until having a child of my own. All I know for sure is that so much has changed and yet made so much better.

The connection has been made in the lack of sleep, the responsibility for another life, the frustration in lack of control. However, there should be a larger focus on the sweet cuddling, the sense of accomplishment when they learn, and of course the amount of time spent watching them sleep.

After an unusually difficult morning of chasing our cat, demanding him to play when he clearly did not want to - eating EVERYTHING possible outside and having TWO accidents in the house, it all seemed to melt away when I found her like this...

On the weekend, Blondie received her last shots and was cleared to meet other dogs, travel to new environments and interact with new people.

First stop - a lunch time BBQ at Dave's brother's and our sister-in-law's. We were excited to bring Blondie because she would be able to meet her not only her fur cousin Maurice, but also our nephew, Ivan.

Brother and sister-in-law, R and E respectively, are pro dog owners - they have fostered animals for over 5 years and have been lucky to adopt two wonderful dogs, the current being Maurice the poodle. Mau is perhaps the most well behaved balanced dog I have ever encountered and this was the first/best choice of dog to meet our Blondie. Not only would Mau be able to help Blondie understand how to play and behave at another dog's house but R and E would be able to help Dave and I as new dog parents.

The meet and rest of the afternoon was amazing. Maurice and Blondie became fast friends. Providing us with ample photo session time and entertainment.

and of course, it would not be complete until Dave or I made a video...

This one was put together by Dave

Being used to dogs, Ivan was happy to see another one and laughed as the two dogs ran and played. At the end of the video, you can some bystanders - Ivan and myself - happy to take in the puppy session.

My budding photographer husband got our money's worth in this candid photo

and here...

At the end of the afternoon we all were filled with delicious food and more importantly - love.

Blondie

After years of talks and dreaming followed by months of research and preparing, it only took one look to say...yes.

Faithful readers - I am pleased to introduce, Blondie.

Some info on Blondie:

- She is an 8 week old Shorkie (Shih-tu, Yorkie mix) currently about 4 pounds and will grow to be 8 pounds.

- She is named for her blonde hair and Debbie Harry

- Her older brother , Jack Sparrow, a cat - is still not sure how to react to her vivacious nature.

- she is adapting quite well to sleeping in a crate at night, but does not like when her older brother taunts her by strolling back and forth in front of her.

- she goes to the washroom outside, and has few accidents because her "I have to pee" nose to the ground looks exactly like her "where is that other 'puppy'" nose to the ground.

I think she looks similar to Valcor the luck dragon from "Never-ending Story" when she is all tuckered out.

Here is a little video I made of Blondie and Jack Sparrow's first meet

let them have cake...

And we did...

Tuesday June 22, 2010

....of the cup variety.

Baby Love...

Last weekend I went to spend some much needed time with my cousin Kelly and the amazing little Kyla. It was a fantastic afternoon filled with great conversation, baby giggles, and the best mac and cheese ever.

I can't wait for a summer filled of cooking/baking lessons with Kelly!

Here are some pictures from the day...

"hey lady, can I put your iphone in my mouth?"

One day I am going to paint those little toenails...

"can you play the Beyonce song?"

note: Kyla is fascinated with the song and video of "Single Ladies" when frustrated, agitated or just generally cranky all that was needed was that song and she would be silent and mesmerized...It was a phenomena to be seen.

The next day, Dave and I went to celebrate his grandmother's 85th birthday and of course there was another baby filled afternoon with our nephew Ivan.

Spending some time with Zia...and a bag of Melba toast...

...all love for the little people.

Caro Nonno

March 3^rd would have been my Nonno Pasquale’s 84^th birthday. In my own way I celebrated – I thought of him all day repeating the same phrase he would say to all members of the family when their birthday would arrive: “It’s your birday? No…it’s MY birday!”

Yesterday marked the 3 year anniversary of my Grandfather Pasquale’s death.

The man that would “twist my arm” and steal my birthdays may be physically gone but I now see him more and more in my father. His movements, his phrases, all echoed in my own “Babbo”. When my grandfather passed away I started calling my dad, “Ba”, the very same way he addressed his father. It was not a conscious decision but in some way I felt that there still needed to be some representation of him.

My Nonno’s brother – Francesco is almost his twin brother. On my wedding day I cried hugging him feeling as though a connection could be made, and some magical portal would open allowing me to hug my Nonno on that special day. The past few years, at random family events I would catch a glimpse of his graying hair, and distinct facial features and for a moment I would think Nonno was there. It’s comforting and upsetting all at the same time. A discomfort I gladly endure.

My father and uncle are both wonderful writers in their own right and I feel the best tribute to my Nonno would be to share the very special words my uncle Frank composed for the funeral.

~

When paying your respects, many of you may have seen my father’s sledgehammer on display. You see, I borrowed that sledgehammer but never got around to giving it back.

Over the years, I had borrowed so many tools from my Dad that I had lost track—but he never did. Every time I saw him, he would be sure to ask me how my family was, just before reminding me to return his sledgehammer.

Turns out I owe him so much more.

When I was a kid, my Dad gave me some of my fondest memories. Trips to the lake, visits to my relatives—I loved those times. I remember playing with my cousins until I was literally dizzy with laughter while my father joked and played cards in the other room. After he retired, his passion became his garden. We can all remember his legendary tomato plants and his seven-foot-tall squashes—and his ceaseless war with squirrels and raccoons.

Christmas, Easter, birthdays, weddings—it didn’t matter. Ask anyone who knew him and they will tell you—as hard as he worked and as tough as he could be, my father had joy in his soul. If I have even a fraction of that, it’s because of him.

My Dad’s story is shared by so many—leaving everything behind and coming to a far-off country full of strangers, seeking a better life for his young family. When I ask myself if I could make the same sacrifice and muster the same courage as my father did over fifty-five years ago, like most of my generation I would have to answer “no.” This is another small testament to how much I owe my father.

He’s gone now, but I will remember him every time I smell sawdust; every time I finish a hard day’s work; every time I sit in a comfortable chair; every time I’m around a table with friends; every time I look at his grandsons; and every time I make someone laugh.

When I think of my Dad now, I try to imagine him reunited with his parents and his brothers, sitting at a table with his friends in the shade of an apricot tree. He’s playing cards and enjoying a glass of wine. But then he checks his watch, as he so often did. I imagine someone kindly touching his arm and saying, There’s no rush anymore, Pasquale. Have another glass.

My father knew we loved him. We told him as often as we could, especially near the end. But only after it was too late, I remembered something that I should have told him, but had forgotten. Now, if I could only take him away from his card game for a few precious moments, I would be sure to tell him,

Grazie per tutto, ba… thanks for everything.

A very young me with a very special Nonno.

Bella Nonna

My grandmother is my hero.

The strongest woman I have, and possibly will ever know.

Earlier this month she turned a fresh new 80 years old. I watch her mind deteriorate but hold steady to the stories she has told me. The life she has lead and the struggles she has endured silently. I always wondered what lessons women would teach their young girls in the old country – before school was allowed. I thought of how quickly you would learn but spending time with my grandma as a young girl and even now as a woman I think time is passing too quickly and there is so much more I need to know.

Basics were covered young - how to clean clothes, mend holes, sew a button, set the table, cook the pasta, make the bed and tuck the sheets in tight. Move quickly but carefully, slowly on stairs – never run why be in a rush to fall.

As I grew older, the lessons were more advanced. What makes a true friend, protect your heart it’s delicate - don’t just let anyone in. Laugh, never let them see you cry, if you fall pick yourself up and always depend on your family to help if it gets hard. Your sister is your best friend – if you don’t know it now, you will later. Trust your parents.

I learnt how to make pasta from scratch never from a box, how to roll gnocchi, split beans, pick the best tomatoes. I learnt the quick burning pain on my bottom from the swift movement she dealt would deal out with the wooden spoon, the metal spoon and most often the slipper (usually a slight wooden heel). Even though I was never beaten I learned respect the old fashioned way and I appreciate every moment of it.

I am her bella nonna, her poopie, the one who doesn’t call, the who doesn’t visit her…I am just like the other 8 who belong to this elite league. Even though we share the title of “grandchild” and we are all told the same things as the others time after time there are still those private moments where she shares her soul with us, one on one. We are all special to her and she makes us feel it.

I pray to God that she will be with us for many more years but yet I hear her voice in my head – one of the greatest lessons she ever taught to me –

“Bella Nonna, you cannot pray for what you want, you can only pray for the strength through whatever is given”