A Strike and a Spare

In the end the bowling party for Giulio went well, though the signs were there that it might not go as planned. I ordered the cake on Monday and Lorenzo went to pick it up on Saturday morning and came home fuming. It was 43 euros. 43 euros! What was he, Berlusconi's son, he didn't have 43 euros to blow on a cake, what could I have been thinking?? I pointed out that it was for 14 people and had strawberries in it, but he wasn't interested. Then around three o'clock (the party was scheduled for 4) we got a call from the bowling alley asking if we were planning on coming because they hadn't gotten a confirmation from us. Except they had. Lorenzo had called them a week ago to confirm that we were coming with at least 10 people, and we had been told that it was all set.
"People or kids?" the lady on the phone now wanted to know.
Why did it matter? When we had originally planned the party we had explained that there would be more adults than children and the guy had told us no problem. Did this mean they would give each person a small piece of foccaccia and call it even because they were expecting children? Would we make a "brutta figura" and send people home hungry? Lorenzo got dressed, took Livia and drove over there, worried about what we might find if we waited any longer to show up. I followed about 20 minutes later with 2 guests and the cake, a plate of pizzette, and bottles of coke and spumante. And in the end there was no problem. The table was set with cups and napkins and when they brought out the refreshments there was plenty for everyone, and along with the stuff we had brought, including the cake, well, no one went hungry. What logistics were involved though in planning! In America if you put out food, people eat it. Here we had this long debate-- ah yes, well the party's at four and people really aren't hungry and planning on eating a whole lot at four, maybe just cake. But then what if they are hungry and there isn't enough. To Snack of Not To Snack, that became the question and it kept going around and around until I began to wonder why I ever let Giulio have a birthday party to begin with.
By 4:30 though, everyone had shown up, all the people who Giulio likes to say, "all together they love me." We got bowling shoes all round and we were actually able to relax and have fun though Giulio was less than enthusiastic about bowling this time, at least at the begining. The place was filled with video games and video poker machines. Instead of bowling Giulio wanted to sit in front of the race car video game and turn the steering back and forth with the words INSERT COIN flashing across the screen. I practically had to pull him out of the seat while hissing in his ear the inane threat: Giulio, you come now or next year no birthday party! He got into the spirit of things eventually, even bowled for a while, but soon he was drawn to the snack table and by the end of the afternoon I had to do his turns for him. Clearly bowling has lost its appeal, next year it's just going to be 30 of his closest friends and a big cake. I have had my fill of children's birthday parties for the time being.
The only other downside of the party was the staff at the bowling alley, the friendly guy we had spoken to wasn't there for most of the afternoon. The staff watched us like hawks and were annoyed when people got anywhere near the bowling lanes with food, something that I found hilarious. I mean, can you imagine being told in the US that you can't have food near the lanes? Who would go bowling any more? People have sit-down meals pausing only to get up and bowl strikes at some of the places in Cincinnati. I obeyed but some of our male friends would sneak a pizzette up onto the lane with them, though I doubt the eagle-eyed guy at the desk missed a thing. The staff also seemed to think we were taking too long with our party. Apparently this particular bowling alley closes for one hour between seven and eight and they seemed very worried that we were going to run past 7. One of my friends heard one guy complain to another, "They aren't here to have dinner, they are here to bowl!" when she walked by the counter while we were doing cake and presents. We did make it out in time, but I wasn't pleased, I don't like to be rushed especially when I'm about to shell out cash for the priviledge of using their fine facility.
Signs that I'm becoming Italian: I wasn't pleased with the 43 euro cake. They had obviously used frozed strawberries instead of fresh strawberries, and in a true Italian hostess tradition I passed around the cake plates while lamenting on the quality, just as Terry had done at Alessandro's birthday when she had spend over 100 euros on two cakes. No self-respecting hostess would ever taste the cake she bought and proclaim it fabulous. No, instead a debate must ensue over where one can find a really good cake without feeling ripped off, as the one you are eating is certainly not meeting the mark. A hostess can show her approval by not saying anything, offering only a vague, "really?" when people deem the cake to be edible. I had eaten this same type of cake at another birthday and I remember going on and on about it to the hostess, so much so that when it was time to order it last week for Giulio's birthday I even called my friend to double-check on what was in it so I could be sure that it was the right one. I also asked for it in the shape of the number 4. Unfortunately it was an "italian" 4, so that upside-down it looked like a 7, and the girl at the bowling alley when she put the candles on it thought it was a 7 too, so that in the end it the candles that spelled HAPPY BIRTHDAY faced the wrong way, and when we tried to switch them it started to ruin the fluffy wipped cream topping and in the end the cake facing Giulio in the photos just says HAPPY ---------, as the "birthday" part of the candles are still facing the wrong way. We only got one or two photos of the cake part. The batteries on my camera died the moment I tried to take a photo of the cake with the candles all lit, while at the same time my friend Luca, who had been given video camera duty, informed me that the video camera had just run out of the film. The new cassette that I tried to open wouldn't, and in the end I gave up. I will have to try again when Giulio turns 5.
Out of all his presents Giulio was most proud of the trophy he was given at the end of the party by the staff, which says "To the Number 1 player at the birthday party." It is now sitting proudly on the shelf in his room.

La Festa del Bowling

Giulio's birthday is on Friday. He has become obsessed with birthdays lately, actually his own birthday. It is never anyone's birthday but his. When I tried to tell him two weeks ago that today was my birthday he looked and me for a moment and then shook his head.
"No Mommy. It is not your birthday, it's GIULIO's birthday! Not Mommy's."
We had a similar conversation when preparing to go to a fellow classmate's birthday party last week, how it wasn't Carlo's birthday but Giulio's, though in the end he relented long enough to give Carlo the Power Ranger that Lorenzo had picked out. No educational, wooden toy for this kid--just China all the way. Carlo's mom was thrilled, this was THE Power Ranger that Carlo had wanted and they had been unable to find it anywhere, I just smiled and acted like it was a careful deliberate choice on our part, rather than reveal the nasty truth that he had gone to buy Spiderman and they had been sold out.
Giulio first started to "get" birthdays last year when he turned three. People were giving him gifts! And singing! And feeding him cake! And all because he was a year older. But what I think really piqued his interest was when Livia had her birthday when we were in Cincinnati in August. I'll admit it, I even posted on a website reviling people who gave big parties for babies too little to enjoy them and then went on to throw a large two-phase birthday for a one year old. We had 16 of our closest friends and family, though I fully admit that this party was all about me wanting to get the people I love together in one room with the excuse of celebrating Livia's birthday in Cincinnati. Giulio's birthday is too late in the year to ever be celebrated in the US with our family and friends back home
. We held the party at a (clean and smoke-free) bowling alley across the river in Kentucky, followed by aperativi and prosecco at our house afterwards. We bowled, kept Livia away from the balls and off the floor, ate pizza, drank a lot of beer and then opened presents and had cake, and it was a success, a sort of melding of the Best of The Red American States with a strong Italian twist. The only drawback was that Lorenzo wasn't there, he had flown back to Italy the week before to start work. The cheese and wine for the aperativi cost more than the entire party at the bowling alley, and it gave Giulio the die hard belief that he his birthday had to involve bowling as well. I don't even like bowling, and even though there are bowling alleys here in Italy, it just seems to me like the quintessential American activity, I mean, I have never seen an Italian bringing his own ball and shoes to go play, I don't even know where one could buy bowling shoes in Italy. Lorenzo always wants to go whenever we are back in the States, he was the one who was the most enthusiastic about the party for Livia, and he also happens to be very good at the game. We never go here. For one thing, I am a terrible bowler (yes-me the American), and another, who wants to bowl while trying to keep two small children from running/crawling down the lanes?
Luckily for Giulio there is a bowling alley two towns over that does actual party packages, the American version frozen pizza and pitcher of pop having been replaced by foccaccia, pizzette, and olives. We booked for about 12 people, the owner explained to us the phases of the party. Instead of eating as we bowl (isn't that the best part??) we would play a game and then adjorn to the tables where we would have the food and cake, before moving back to the lanes for one more game. There was no problem with bringing spumante, and they could order the cake too if we wanted. And so, on Saturday we will all be there, six adults, four children, and two toddlers and Giulio probably bouncing off the walls with excitement.
Part of me feels, well not guilty but sort of silly for doing this kind of party, though I can hardly justify that it was OK for Livia and over the top for Giulio. The parties we have been to so far have been your basic birthday party. The kids run around and play and then the mom comes out with food and then the cake, presents are opened and then playing is resumed. There are no themes, no bouncy castles, no pony rides. If your house is too small you book the game room at the church and have it there, though then it is up to you to clean and mop the floor afterwards. In doing the bowling party we also had to greatly limit numbers to avoid spending a small fortune, only inviting people we are close to, rather than a big group of kids from his class. At any rate on Friday Giulio will take cake and bottles of coke to school with him to share with his class and they will sing to him and I know that he can't wait, he keeps talking about taking the cake to school. But I have already decided next year we invite his whole class, I buy a bunch of pizzette, panini, Nutella, and birthday cake, and we book the game room down at the church. But as any parent knows what you want to do is make your child happy, even if it means a Saturday wearing rented shoe. Sometimes you worry: is it too much? Am I teaching him to always expect a lot?I don't think I am over doing it, at least not this time with Giulio. Is a bowling party for 12 more excessive than a sit-down 6 course meal for 10? Yes, that is how we celebrated Giulio's first birthday. You could argue it beats bowling hands down.

He's my Donkey

I went to the doctor this morning after being sick all weekend. I should have gone on Friday afternoon, but I had things to do and I remember thinking-ah, how sick could I be? My children may get sick, my husband may get sick, but Mommy, no Mommy doesn't get sick. She can't. I then spent all weekend thinking that my head was going to explode and wincing every time I swallowed, and then after a phone call with my mother, felt sure that I was succumbing to a terrible staph infection. It is also a little difficult in our house to "take it easy". Livia has started crawling and Lorenzo had to work both Saturday and Sunday afternoon. Enough said. What I really wanted was my mother to come in and sweep the children off for about 12 hours so I could stay in bed and sip orange juice, but there is no point on dwelling on that when my mother is on another continent, and several time zones away. Pumped up with ibuprophen I managed to go out and buy a birthday present, take the kids out for pizza Saturday night, and attend two birthday parties on Sunday, all the while trying not to swallow too often. Perhaps it wasn't just being sick that made me feel so wiped out, but also Giulio's end of school party that was held on Friday afternoon.
While Giulio's school doesn't officially close until the end of June, on the basis that some kids will be gone for vacation or whatever, they hold the party at the end of May, at a large outdoor pavillion on the edge of town. The kickoff was at 12, when the kids would be having their picnic lunch (no pasta!) of sandwhiches and fruit. I arrived at 12:30 with Livia, Lorenzo arrived around 1:15. The heat was intense, made worse by the fact that it had rained a little that morning, making everything excessively muddy and humid, in the end the most comfortable place to be was in the shade of the pavillion, but the teachers would have none of it. They had organized an action packed afternoon of performances by the children, along with games involving the parents, a treasure hunt and graduation ceremony. At 1:30 things got started off by the children dancing and singing along with a tape recording of "Old MacDonald", doing a carefully choreographed number. With my camera fixed on Giulio, I watched as he stood there, smiling shyly, watching his classmates sing and dance around him. It dawned on me that I would never be able to say, "Giulio always loved performing, ever since he was little!" to some journalist as I am being interviewed about my son's great Oscar win. Clearly he didn't love it, could barely tolerate standing there next to them as they e-i-e-i-o-ed around him. Then they all sat down as the 4 year olds launched into their individual number, some other song involving animals, the children serious and stern as they performed. Is there anything cuter than small children focused on a task? It is moments like that that make you glad to have children, glad to sit in 90 degree heat video tape them, glad to attend an end of the year picnic. And Giulio was going to have no part in it. I would just have to be glad to watch someone else's child shimmy around the circle. And then Giulio's group got up, and led by two five year olds went into their dance, or at least wiggled their hips around, immitating sheep and frogs and cats, in time to the song booming out of the CD player. And Giulio was right there, wiggling along with them, apparently having a great time. My Oscar fantasy, like Marcel Proust's memories, came flooding back.
After that there were games, endless games, all involving running and carrying children under the hot sun. The children all donned donkey ears, carefully made by the teachers for the games portion. Yes, it was pretty much the cutest thing I had ever seen though I am still confused about what it had to do with racing while carrying Giulio on my shoulders. Or running across the grass to some far corner, blindfolded in some gauzy material that did not block my vision but did make my face sweat, to scoop Giulio up and run back across the lawn with him. There was also a potato sack race, with garbage bags instead of sacks which resisted two hops before your legs went through the bottom. I pretended to be preoccupied with Livia and sat that one out.
Then there was the treasure hunt which ended disastrously because Giulio's prize, a small plastic gun that blew bubbles didn't work, which caused him to have a meltdown, which caused him to almost miss the "graduation ceremony" when each child was called one by one to received a medal, a class photo, and a diploma rolled up and tied with a piece of ribbon. I went up on Giulio's behalf to receive his diploma, with Giulio hanging on my leg and shrieking as I walked towards the teacher. Which ended with me telling Giulio that if this was how he was going to behave we would leave now, and me avoiding eye contact with any other parent. Everyone else's child was seated correctly, mine was a wailing mess of tears and hiccups. In the end, it was his teacher who intervened, telling us we couldn't leave now, we were about to have a special snack--bread and Nutella! It may sound ridiculously simple, but there are few things better than bread and Nutella, and nothing better for calming down a three year old. Giulio ate his snack and then we fled the hot picnic grounds for our car's air conditioning.
On Sunday was had to attend two birthday parties, one was a joint party for Alessandro and Vanda, my neighbor's children, and the other was for the daugher of Lorenzo's good friend and colleague Massimo. Italian birthday parties haven't reached the level of hype that we have in the United States. One of my favorite baby websites had a thread about planning our babies' first birthday party, six months before they were to turn one. There are women for whom it is very important that 1 year old Kaitlyn has the right hat to wear to go with her Strawberry Shortcake themed birthday cake, which she would then be allowed to smash her little fist into. Apparently no birthday party is now complete with out a smashcake for little Landon to destroy. There was no theme for Alessandro's party, Terry had not been out hunting all corners of Nothern Italy for the table cloth that would really fit a Harley Davidson themed party, nor was she using a glue gun moments before the party began to make sure that rubber ducks would stay upright and afloat in a wadding pool. No, there was none of that. Instead the party resembled more what birthday parties were like 15 years ago in the States. Terry had 3 of her sisters come with their husbands and children, she invited me and one other non-family member, plus her husband Eugenio's family, and Vanda invited 3 friends of her own. She rented the room that the local church rents out for birthday parties, mainly because our living rooms don't hold more than eight people very well, let alone children running in and out. In total there was maybe 20 people, including children. They set up a large table and covered it with pizza, chips, sandwiches, candy, three birthday cakes (but no smashcake), spumante and coke. They sang Happy Birthday, they opened presents and then the children were free to run about, occasionally splashing each other with the small fountain that sits outside the parish office. The adults ate and talked and played with the babies. There were no organized games, though apparently you can hire a teenage girl specifically for the purpose of organizing the children for games if you want, and though simple it fulfilled the purpose of what you want at a party; a time to be together with the people you like and enjoying good food in the bargain. The one fly in the ointment were the cakes. They were delicious, and had cost 190 euros all together, far more than Terry had anticipated paying. Apparently Eugenio had picked them up and paid for them, no questions asked, and Terry planned to go the bakery tomorrow and have it out with them. It seemed the baker had said she would make three 15 person cakes for the event, and instead had made what appeared to be three 30-person sized cakes and more than doubled the cost.
Our visit to the second party revealed more of the same thing, lots of food, people sitting around, and no theme, no organized games, and no one seemed to know or mind what was missing. I sometimes wonder who switched the rules on us, who upped the ante in the US. Who decided that such a simple idea like a child's birthday party was no longer valid and instead one needed themes, reception halls, smashcakes and the like. I'm sure these parties are fun too, but all the same, if you asked Giulio what he liked the most about the party he would tell you it was putting his hands in the fountain and getting his t-shirt soaked.