women, food, multitasking moms, Italians and God

I am the queen of multitasking, which isn't to say that I'm proud to declare myself so. I can do a number of tasks simultaneously - but most of the time, one or two of or three of those tasks is not accomplished the way a non-multitasking me would see fit.

I'm now on a quest to focus more on one thing at a time, and one area that's been iffy for me has always been eating.

My unspoken thoughts up until recently have always been: why simply eat my lunch when I can eat my lunch at my desk, write, and browse the Internet, stopping every once in awhile to also read a text message or make a phone call? Why simply relax and eat my breakfast when I can also put the dishes into the dishwasher or eat something that takes no longer than five minutes so that I can also quickly scan the morning headlines? Why eat at all? I'm not that hungry! (and then of course I'll end up snacking on something not-so-healthy later on in the day, when I manage to catch my breath).

After Pupa's birth, my in-laws came from Italy to spend some weeks with us, and I quickly settled back into Italian life via my mother-in-law, who set the pace of our home back to Roman time. She woke up every morning, early, and sat at the table with her steaming cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal - a small meal, yet one that she ate with pleasure and in no rush, in the quiet of the morning. At lunch and dinner time, we all sat down, together as a family, to enjoy conversation, healthy food, a fine glass of wine and again, all without distraction (this is something that I can't always replicate at lunchtime, seeing that we all work, but thankfully our own little family does manage this every day at dinnertime). She taught me to carefully prep the vegetables and fruits that arrive in my weekly co-op delivery. She taught me how to make homemade pizza dough and hazelnut biscotti (that no matter how hard I try, I can't replicate to her caliber without her help). She forced me to put aside the chores, hand over the baby, and enjoy a meal (and even a glass of wine! at lunch! on a weekday!).  

The fact of the matter is that I can find a way to sit down to a an uninterrupted breakfast and lunch. And if I can't, then, well, some re-ordering of the day needs to be done. I can wake up earlier to a nice breakfast, together with the kids, instead of packing lunches while they relax and eat. I can brush aside work and media for the twenty minutes that it would take to eat my lunch outdoors, and then perhaps finish up with a nice walk afterwards.

In the book Women, Food, and God, Geenen Roth connects conscious eating with healthy weight. I've only read excerpts, but I am trying to apply the seven basic guidelines she has detailed to my own life:

• Eat when you are hungry.
• Eat sitting down in a calm environment. This does not include the car.
• Eat without distractions. Distractions include radio, television, newspapers, books, intense or anxiety-producing conversations or music.
• Eat what your body wants.
• Eat until you are satisfied.
• Eat (with the intention of being) in full view of others.
• Eat with enjoyment, gusto and pleasure.

 

I can imagine that following these guidelines would lead one to lose weight. My mother and sister-in-law live by these rules: and my mother-in-law is healthy and fit, in her late 60's; my sister-in-law, at age 50, appears at least 15 years younger. And no, they don't subsist on a low-carb, low-fat diet. On the contrary. When you take time to eat well, you are conscious of what you're eating, and therefore less likely to scarf down an entire bag of chips.  

I am choosing to focus on points #2 and #7. For me, this isn't about losing weight. Apart from a few extra post-pregnancy pounds, I'm fine in that department. Rather it's about taking time for me, and taking better care of myself, even if in a small way.
But it's not all about me: I am modeling life for my children. And I want them to sit back and enjoy life as often as possible, I don't want them to view eating that is something that needs to be over and done with, and in a rush. I want them to eat healthy, fresh, unprocessed foods that are prepared by themselves or others, with love. Children learn what they see, so it's obvious that it starts with me.
Life in Italy was always more conducive to eating with enjoyment, gusto, pleasure: The daily outdoor markets are inspirational - the fruit and veggies just taste better - and the many little local, family-owned shops selling housemade pasta and cheese and everything in between mean that there is never a shortage of the best of everything. Life moves at a slower pace there, and you can't help but to stop and smell the roses (or rather, the parmigiano reggiano) while dining at a cafe overlooking a picturesque piazza. But we can all bring a little bit of Italy into our home, by buying the freshest ingredients and cooking from scratch as often as possible, by taking a few extra minutes out of the day, to sit down, and dine, together (or alone) without distraction. 

ragazze che si perdono * girls that get lost

The day after high school graduation, I flew far and away to Rome, Italy, all by my lonesome self. It was a trip that would mark me forever, because when the travel bug bites, it bites hard. Once I had a taste, I was insatiable. For the next ten years, my one desire was to live out of a suitcase, to see the world.

I know it was hard for my parents to let me go, and I thank them tremendously for swallowing the lectures I wouldn't have listened to anyway. They saw me off from O'Hare, and I remember their hugs and kisses and "Have Funs!" and "Send us lots of postcards!"and I felt their gulps. I can imagine now what that must fell like, as the mother of a son and a daughter myself. To let a child go into the great unknown that is the world - trying to dismiss as much as one possibly can all the disasters that can possibly befall a young woman traveling on her own - it must not be an easy thing to do, to wave goodbye that last time, from that glass partition that separates the travelers from those staying home. 

At the time of my first extended trip overseas, Italy itself was enthralled by the disappearance of Ylenia Carrisi, the daughter of showbiz parents, who had run away to New Orleans, where she fell in love with a street musician and then disappeared into thin air. Did she commit suicide? Was she killed? Espresso, the Italian version of Newsweek, ran a cover story featuring the pretty, blonde haired, innocent looking Ylenia under the ominous heading: Ragazze che si perdono - Girls Who Get Lost. The gist of the article was: How could Ylenia's parents have let her do just that - get lost? Were they off their rockers? What kind of parents would permit their daughter to go off, on her own, halfway around the world? More than one Italian had asked me "Your parents let you travel - alone?", with eyes questioning their sanity

Today Ylenia's sad tale has been replaced by that of Natalee Holloway, and the other young Peruvian woman, both of whom happened to fatally run into the obvious sociopath, Joran Van der Sloot, and once again, it appears that the backlash has caused many to hem and haw about young women traveling on their own. This gist today is, "Um, not a good idea." Just check out your latest People magazine and you're bound to find an article on the latest young woman attacked, missing, or murdered.
On the topic, check out this one blog post by Theresa Walsh Giarrusso of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution here.
Thinking of my own travels as a young woman: Did disasters befall me? Yes. But nothing major. Did I make some poor decisions? Yes. Here and there. Did I hop onto a Vespa with a stranger (albeit a gorgeous Italian)?  (Ms. Giarrusso recalls a girl doing so while participating in a study abroad program she too was a part of). Well, I did. And I fell in love with him too. Do I regret it? Not at all. Did I buy a Vespa of my own, to drive around the crazy streets of Italy? Yep. And I had a few accidents too, which I survived with scratches and bruises. Did I get lost? All the time.
I made a few more questionable choices: I dove into the Red Sea of Egypt, with just a bikini and a flashlight. I hitchhiked. A few times (in the company of friends, though, never alone). I lost my way - in the West Bank. I slept in a room, on the floor, with 30 or so other complete strangers (yet again, a good friend of mine). I jumped off cliffs, into the Mediterranean. I climbed a mountain in rickety sandals. I had a seance with a witch doctor in Africa. I scuba dived alongside hammerheads.
But no one ever hurt or harmed me.  99.9 percent of the world is not a sociopath, and you can't hide in a closet trying to avoid that .01%. In fact, most people welcomed me warmly and were eager to share their culture with me, young and old. Even the hammerheads were kind - or at least they were oblivious to me!
Besides that, travel gave me the chance to  to live history and languages, really know other cultures, to really know myself. And there is much joy in sitting at a cafe overlooking Piazza Navona watching the world go by, window shopping with a Bertillon glace en main, around the Ile St. Louis, hiking up Masada and arriving at the break of dawn, to see the sun rise over the Dead Sea and then coming back down to float in it, slathering yourself in mud at the shores. Swimming in an emerald lit grotto; exploring a lonely hill town. To wander. Alone. At your own pace. With your own thoughts.
I tell my husband now that he'll never have to worry about me running off to Eat, Pray or Love, because I already ate a ton of pasta and gelato and pizza in Italy, I already prayed a lot around the Holy Land, and well, I never went to Bali, but I did fall in love with a Brazilian (and married him, to boot).
I am so thankful for my parents who let me go and even came to visit me. They listened to my adventures and only encouraged me to follow my heart, without ever really saying so, rather through their actions and support.
The point is that disasters can befall young woman whether they stay home or not. And the world is too wonderful to miss, or worse, to be afraid of. Let's face it: travel is best when one is young and unencumbered - and the safety and security of a tourbus filled with other Americans or Mom and Dad, or a head filled with worries about paying the bills at home, hinders exploration and connection. For this reason, I hope to someday see my daughter off at O'Hare, whereupon, with much effort, I'll too swallow my tears and offer up the best smile and waves goodbye I can muster, wishing her only many happy trails.

the opposite of overscheduling

Last summer, Fratellone, now age 9, was enrolled in tennis camp, golf lessons, swim lessons, boxing lessons, writing classes and some other programs here and there that I can't remember. This year, he's enrolled in a whopping zero programs.

He spends his days playing soccer outside in the alley with the neighborhood boys, creating robots and space vehicles with his legos, filling in World Cup stickers purchased at our local grocery store into his album, and reading, among many other things. He loves reading, and especially during the summer, when he doesn't have to fill in the dreaded reading log required as part of nightly homework during the school year.

The day starts with breakfast - which I actually love to prepare since during the school year I don't have time to do anything more labor intensive than cereal (and my breakfast is a tea which I drink on my way to work). Then we usually go to the pool when it opens, for family swim, returning home whereupon the baby naps and I try to find a moment to write. It's always a late lunch - together - the three of us, sitting down at the table, after which we head to do errands or take a trip to a museum or the local library, or even just a walk to the park. We rarely even use the car: it's parked in front of house, under a tree, and covered in bird poop.

Thank God that as a teacher, the summer is mine. If I were President, I would support a one month break for each and every parent to spend with their children. To be honest, I don't know who benefits more from our time spent together - my children or myself.

Childhood is so fleeting: there is an entire adulthood ahead of them where they'll have to balance work and home and everything else us moms and dads manage to fit into our days.  June, July and August are a blessing that I am so very thankful to have.