Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Italian families

My family is Italian, mother, father, mother in law, father in law, grandparents, great grand parents, you get the picture. In 1971 our first son was born, it was a time when the baby got passed around the dining room table like a bowl of spaghetti. I swear my grandmother tried to give him a meatball when I wasn't looking. Now here I come, the rebel, telling this group they couldn't pick him up when he cried, he wasn't going to have any solid food until he was 5 months old, never would he have water (as an infant), and he wouldn't be wearing shoes until he was a year old. Talk about upheaval, I think they wanted to have me committed, raise him, and bring me out of seclusion when they thought it was safe. However, I stuck to my guns, it wasn't easy it's been almost 37 years later and there is still an aunt that will not speak to me. They bought him outfits that if I would have put them on him he would have looked like a tiny Dinty Moore. What's up with that anyway, even today I see infants that weigh about 12 lbs wearing jeans, a plaid shirt and work boots. They look like chimpanzee's. Didn't mean to get off track here. Anyway, your family, no matter what nationality will give you advice, pick him up he's hungry, put him down he's tired, feed him, feed him, feed him. Stick to your guns, he or she is your baby. They eventually will come around to your way of doing things, my family did and if my family did there is hope for you! Chow

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