Caro Jesu Bambino

My husband and I got home from an unexpected date night to find my mother-in-law alone in her pajamas sitting at the kitchen table scribbling something on a piece of paper. This isn't unusual except for the pajamas. 


My husband greeted her by saying, "Hello Mother." She replied, "Hello Son." Then my husband said, "Those are the ugliest pajamas I have ever seen." I defended her saying, "They aren't that bad, Mammina." She gave me a smirk as I walked by to put my doggy bag away in the fridge. I tried to look over her shoulder but she blocked my view. She said she wasn't sure if it was a surprise. Apparently, my daughter had requested that my mother-in-law write down all of the words to the Italian lullaby "Caro Jesu". I've heard the song a hundred times, sung the first 20 or so times by my mother-in-law, then the next 80 or so by the two of them together. I convinced her to explain the words to me. 


In the sweet song, a young child is praying to baby Jesus. The child says that his father is a poor man and is not able to buy him a toy. The child prays for baby Jesus to come down from heaven to play with him.  

Football's Next Star: A Critique

A commercial for a new reality show on Fox Soccer Channel caught my attention while I was watching Italian soccer on Sunday with my father-in-law. The show is called "Football's Next Star." Leave it to the British to attempt to apply Reality TV to soccer. I was thrilled and made a point to watch. 


The show brought a bunch of young British footballers to Italy to battle for a spot on the prestigious Italian professional team Inter Milan. Before the first episode was over, it was obvious that the young brits were going to fail to appreciate or assimilate into Italian culture. Poorly designed reality TV. 

Stolen Car

My father-in-law picked us up at Kennedy Airport in our car when we arrived home in New York following our trip to Southern California to visit my parents, my brothers, sister, cousins, and their families. 


In the car on the way home from the airport, my father-in-law told us that he couldn't find our car when he went to look for it to come get us. He couldn't even remember the last time he drove it. He looked on 189th Street, and then he looked around the corner. He found the keys on the mantel where he left them, but the car itself was no where to be found. He asked his wife. He asked his daughter. Neither knew where it was. He started to seriously consider calling the cops. 


My sister-in-law's husband knew he would be looking for the car to pick us up so he moved the car to the end of the next block and returned the keys to their usual spot on the mantel. My father-in-law ended his retelling of the story with the comment, "British sense of humor."

Immigrant Proverb #5 - Unanimous

Back at Kennedy airport after our long flight home from Southern California, I trade in my sandals for boots.  My boots are soft warm and snuggly so it's ok. My father-in-law meets us at the curb outside the terminal and we pile into the car. My husband gets in the driver's seat. Driving on the Van Wyck Expressway north before the Long Island Expressway, my father-in-law calls his wife to tell her to put the pasta in. That is the signal that we are ten minutes away from the house. Relaying a question from his wife, he asks the kids what kind of pasta they want. They all yell that they want the "big" pasta. He says to his wife on the phone, "It's anonymous!" 

Deja Vu

Up on Facebook tonight was this picture of one of my husband's younger cousins with the caption, "The Silverado Blow Dryer. Light, powerful, professional. THAT'S how you sell a blower." Photo shoots with blow dryers must feel so natural to him. (See photo circa 1983 - Lower left hand corner)

Infinite Gratitude

I'm upstairs in bed waking up from a glorious luxurious heavenly Saturday afternoon nap. The kids are downstairs trying to get out the door with my in-laws who are bravely taking four of their five grandchildren out for dinner. Our four-year-old is screaming. He's upset because my husband is trying to get him to go to the bathroom before he gets in the car. My angelic mother-in-law is yelling at our two-year-old, "Oh my God! Look what you did!" 


I can't thank them enough. 

Linguini alle Vongole

Given the choice of anything on the menu at an Italian restaurant, our six-year-old always orders Linguini alle Vongole which means linguini with sautéed clams. The self-congratulatory pats on the back that I used to give myself for cultivating her young palate turned to slaps on the face when she started throwing colossal tantrums if they didn't have it.

Female Role in Italian Culture

I no longer obsess about the whole "women are slaves to men" foothold in the Italian culture. My father-in-law drops everything to help me every time I even hint at asking. 

St. Vincent's Day

Vincenza is the Italian lady who helps me keep my house clean and my mind sane. She helps all of my husband's aunts as well. That's how I found her. She is the reason that my Italian has finally improved to a mediocre fluency. This winter she had to go back to Milan indefinitely to take care of her youngest son who broke his hip in a motorcycle accident. I visited her brother-in-law's restaurant in the city just to find out news of her. 


Today she reminded me that it was her "Saint's Day", Saint Vincent's Day. Italian's celebrate their birthday as well as their Saint's Day. Much to the disappointment of my in-laws, we gave our daughter a random American name. It won't be long until she realizes she's missing out on a second "celebrate me" day every year.

Football's Next Star: A New Reality TV Show

My father-in-law is obsessed with soccer. I am too, but not even close to the same level. I can't compete. His home town team is in the highest division of professional soccer in Italy, the Serie A. My home town team belongs to the MLS, the lowest form of professional soccer on the planet, and wasn't even created until after I left that home town for college. Almost everyone he knows plays and/or loves soccer. I ended up a soccer player because I was a girl and couldn't play football.


I asked my father-in-law a couple of questions on Sunday as we were watching a great match between two of the best teams in Italy's Serie A, Roma vs. Juventus. I wanted to learn more about Italian soccer. He said after today there are six games left in their 36 game season. The top six teams each season get to play for the European Championship. The game we were watching was an important matchup because Roma is in sixth place and Juventus is in seventh place. 


At halftime of the soccer game, I saw the commercial for the new reality TV show called, "Football's Next Star". I had seen this commercial once before. I was encouraged by the fact that the show does say "football" and not "soccer" and it appears to be filmed in England.  We'll see.   

Sunday Routines

My Dad lounges on the couch on Sundays, watching golf and dozing. He drinks a large Coke without the lid to allow unfettered access to the ice and he eats a large cheeseburger and fries from the local burger joint. 

My father-in-law lounges on the couch on Sundays, watching soccer and dozing. He drinks orange juice from a wine glass and eats a big mozzarella sandwich from the kitchen.