Finally Moving Out

Our time at the Compound on 189th Street is finally coming to an end.  My sister-in-law and her family moved out of Zia's house (next door) a few months ago and now it's our turn.  My in-laws say that they are going to need grief counseling because they are going to miss us so much.  What a nice thought.  

Post Irene Sunday

I woke up from a turbulent sleep of Hurricane Irene nightmares to a quiet somewhat brighter sky. Everyone was safe. There was no broken glass or ruined belongings. My husband tried to leave for his usual weekend morning "I can't just sit around all day" drive, but when I reminded him that we had been directed to wait for all clear from the authorities, to my surprise, he stayed home. I made a big breakfast and my in-laws came downstairs to join us. During breakfast, my father-in-law gave me a mind blowing compliment. He said it was a "beautiful breakfast, better than Bayside Diner." 


After breakfast as we settled in the family room to watch Tottingham vs. Manchester City on the main TV and a slideshow of pictures from my in-law's grand summer voyage on a second TV, a phone call came from next door. Zia had locked herself in her bedroom the previous night afriad of the hurricane and was having trouble getting the door open again. When they finally got her out, they saw that she was wearing all of her gold jewelry. She was ready for an emergency evacuation except that she couldn't get out. 

Hurricane Irene: Poor Zia

My sister-in-law told Zia that the roof might blow off of her house tonight so she spent the day in her closet putting all of her documenti importanti in ziplock bags. Hours later, having apparently finished that task, she decided to move all of her favorite outfits into the basement for safety as well. I sincerely hope the basement doesn't flood.  

Zia Has My Back

This summer we are having late nights. Last week my husband arrived home with the kids from a cousin's house down the block with Zia in tow as the lightning bugs were getting fired up. We assembled in the kitchen because the kids had not been fed. I was struggling to figure out a quick dinner that everyone would eat, when our five year old son yelled across the table at me, "Mommy - Cook corn! - that's alliteration!" I was in awe. But my happy Mommy moment was confused for a second because Zia immediately started yelling, "Luca! Abbiate pazienza! La tua Mamma sta facendo dieci cose, il mio uccellino!" which I realized after my standard translation delay meant something like, "Luca, be patient! Your mom is doing ten things at once, my little bird!"  

Poverina Zia

The half bath in the back of Zia's house is known as the igloo bathroom. Our daughter named it when she was two because it is frigid in the wintertime. It's always a dilemma whether to freeze your ass off or go all the way upstairs. 


My parents came from California for our son's baptism a couple of years ago. We had a small breakfast party at Zia's house before going to the church. I warned my Mother about the igloo bathroom and told her to go upstairs to the other bathroom. When she got to the top of the stairs, she let out a weird little scream noise. Zia was not quite yet dressed for the party and the door to her bedroom had not yet been replaced from when my husband broke it down the time our son had locked himself in. Poor Zia.  

Through the Door

Hours before my sister-in-law's wedding we were next door at Zia's house. My toddler son wandered into Zia's bedroom, shut the door, and locked it. Calmly, we tried to help him unlock the door and free himself. The house, teeming with two dozen color coordinated bridesmaids and groomsmen, quickly grew claustrophobic for the first and only time. 


After exhausting everyone's ideas about how to get the door open or off it's hinges, our son started to get agitated on the other side of the door and he began to cry. That spurred my husband into action. He backed up the length of the little hallway and charged at the door, driving his knee clean through. The hole was big enough to pull the little guy out. The crowd below cheered. 


The unfortunate result however was that after the damaged door was removed, it's replacement took some time getting into place. With extra people living in her little house constantly, Zia's pittance of privacy was obliterated. I saw her naked shortly thereafter.

Eczema

Poor Zia has been changing the baby's diaper for months, putting cream on his baby eczema, thinking it was contagious. 

Zia's Sleep Habits

In 2005, when our daughter was seven months old, I traveled to Rome with our bald baby girl, my mother-in-law, and her sister, Zia, for a family wedding. We stayed with cousins and Zia and I shared a room. She fell asleep night after night on her back stiff like sleeping beauty but without the pillow. I asked my mother-in-law about it. Apparently, Zia believes that sleeping with a pillow will give her a double chin.  

Recently, I learned about another interesting sleep habit of Zia's. If she has had her hair done for an event, she will sleep directly on her face for as many nights as necessary to preserve the style.

Burn the Scab

My mother-in-law and her sister, Zia, believe that you must burn the scab from an infant's umbilical cord when it falls off.  Zia actually stole my nephew's scab and burned it because my sister-in-law said she wasn't going to do it.  

Pregnant Pissers

My mother-in-law is one of my best friends, but that doesn't stop her from trying to get me to eat goat's knee stew. Each time I was pregnant, she and her sister, Zia, made a big pot of goat's knee stew and tried to serve it to me. I understand that they believe that it's good for the baby in some essential way, and I do love the attention, but I refused. Realizing that they weren't afraid to try to sneak it into me, I started to keep an ear out for the Italian word for "knee".

The women in my husband's family believe that if a pregnant woman has a craving for a food and denies that craving, the baby will be born with a birthmark on it's face that resembles the food that was ignored.  I blatantly mocked them and my son was born with a bright red V-shaped birthmark smack dab in the middle of his forehead.  

Zia unintentionally pisses off pregnant women, and there are a lot of them at any one time in the family.  She calls them big.  "Ah, you so BIG! SO BIG!", she giggles, absolutely beaming and clapping maniacally. Then comes a long string of heavily accented God bless yous.  

Bambini

Zia has never been wrong when she has made a prediction about the sex of an unborn baby. It's eerie. When someone she knows comes clean that they are preggers, she patiently bides her time waiting for one of her special dreams. She won't predict unless she's absolutely sure. She consoles the mother if it's going to be a girl.  

The Compound

My husband and I and our three kids live with my Italian immigrant in-laws in Flushing, Queens. The house has three bedrooms all on the second floor. My in-laws have their bedroom at the back of the house. My husband and I have his sisters' old room at the front of the house, and our three kids are in the middle room that he used to share with his brother. The house is bursting its seams and I am happier now than I was when we were living in our custom built four bedroom house a few miles east. 


Right next door to my in-law's house is Zia's house. Zia, which means Aunt in Italian, is my mother-in-law's elder sister. She defines old school. Tragically widowed shortly after her wedding day, Zia has no children of her own and not once in all the years since did it occur to her to remarry. And one interesting tidbit that you'll just have to take my word for, is that Zia has dreams that foretell the sex of babies. Really.  


The elder of my husband's two sisters and her family live next door with Zia. They have been there for a couple of years saving money to buy a house of their own. Their stay, like ours, has been prolonged because of the current economy. 


Right after we moved in, my father-in-law did something very out of character. He made a home improvement. He found someone to come and replace the old chain link fence that went partially around his property with a professionally built shiny black aluminum fence. He insisted that the new fence be totally child-proof so his five young grandchildren would be safe running and playing between the two houses. Nonno gets the credit for creating the Compound on 189th Street.