The star of the weekend with her admirer
In 1998 I studied abroad in Cape Town, South Africa, and became friends with a polyglot group of Europeans. Since our college days we have had several reunions. The last one was 6 years ago when we were in Prague. We were overdue for a gathering. Andrew and I invited the crew to Cervinia, and to my great pleasure, most were able to join us. They started arriving last Thursday and it was mayhem, chaos and fun until about 2 hours ago when the last ones left for the long ride back to Milan and then plane flights home. With hindsight, we maybe could have picked an easier place to gather people. Malte, who lives in Berlin, realized he spent almost as much time getting to our place in Cervinia as it takes him to get back to Cape Town. Oops. Also, the specter of 6 adults bopping around our apartment with its crappy kitchen and minimal hot water was a bit concerning. Thank god they got an extra apartment for most of the visit, we just would not have fit.
Almost the whole crew with baby pram on the slopes
Folks started arriving Thursday afternoon. Mikala arrived at 1am in a car with her 6 month old baby Malin. This is the first reunion with a baby.
The most epic, memorable, crazy parties of my life have been with this group of friends. In general, I am not a partier. I get sleepy by 10, occasionally I am up until Midnight. Also, partying late at night generally means the next day is lost. Somehow though when these guys show up that all goes out the window. Our reunion in Berlin was the first, and only time, I have looked out the window of the club, saw the sun come up and taken another shot. In Prague we slept off our serious absinth hangovers on the island in the middle of the Vltava for most of the next day. During this reunion we were asleep by midnight at the latest every night. There was a baby to think about, and we are getting older, and well, Cervinia doesn’t exactly have the happening nightlife that draws you out of the warm apartment and into the -15 C night air. Also, most folks went skiing, so we were a bit worn out by the evening. I was relieved we went to bed early-- I could barely party like that when I was in my 20s and now it is even harder.
Mikala and Malin stayed with us which meant once again Andrew and I had the perfect rent-a-baby situation. We slept all night, but in the morning there was great cuteness waiting. Malin’s parents made a special effort to expose her to a lot of people when she was very little and you can tell. She is comfortable with everyone. One day Ellen (the Norweign) and I babysat and Mikala went skiing. At first we were very confident about this until we realized we hadn’t taken care of a baby in 10 years Also, it is deeply cold here. Mikala laid out all the clothes the baby needs for each kind of contraption and situation and it was daunting. When everyone left for the slopes and Ellen and I were alone with the baby we looked at each other and laughed. I am from California. I haven’t the faintest idea how to keep a baby warm in 6-10 degrees below freezing. Ellen is from somewhere where is it cold, but that doesn’t mean she knows her pram booties from her backpack booties. I was so far outside my comfort zone it was laughable. We did manage to get Malin dressed and into her pram. They we sat outside and ate while the baby slept in the pram bundled up. If we had taken her inside she would have been too warm and woken up, so the kid slept outside in the freezing cold.
(we accidentally woke her up at one point checking on her. With all those warm clothes, and scarves and everything the newbie babysitters were afraid we were going to smother the poor kid.) Then the baby woke up and I took her out of her pram and we watched the skiers for a little while. The kid was warm from sleep and in a full fleece body suit. It was like having a live, snuggling, happy teddy bear on your lap. It was at this point I started to enjoy the experience of Italy with a baby. First, it was the waitresses who stopped working to coo and play and giggle with Malin. Then as Ellen and I walked her around town we were constantly stopped by admirers. Men, women, young, old, everyone came to say ciao. They spoke in singsong Italian, the baby smiled, they smiled. I heard, “Bella, bella” over and over. (she is a strikingly beautiful baby) In the grocery store she was surrounded by a group of Italian grandmothers ( I know they are grandmothers because they told me, in Italian, but I know the word “Nani” so I knew what they were saying) cooing. The grandmothers first wanted to know if she was a boy or girl. I understood that question and knew how to answer back in Italian. They wanted to know how old. I held up 6 fingers. Then they wanted to know her name. My brain froze. We had just been calling her baby. And I had just met her, and Malin (if I am even spelling it right) is Swedish and I say it terribly. I stood frozen only able to come up with a name I knew was wrong. I had to call to Ellen, “um Ellen, what is the baby’s name?” The grandmothers looked concerned. Ellen answered my question, then I looked at the grandmothers, pointed to my self, shook my head and said, “not the mama. No mama.” They all looked relieved.
All and all, Ellen and I were proud of ourselves. We got back to the apartment with a healthy baby, who had napped and hadn’t gotten frost bite anywhere. (not one single spot) I was getting ready to change her diaper when the distressing thought hit me, “where was that diaper bag again?” Alas, the newbie babysitters left the diaper bag, with the bottle, and the hiking booties, hiking gloves, and baby wipes at the restaurant, hours ago. Ellen had to run back down the hill to town, which is not an easy or short trip, and try to get to the restaurant before it closed. This was about the moment Malin decided she was getting ready for a bottle. I searched her stuff. No extra bottle. The baby looks up with sad eyes. Yep, I had left the one and only bottle on some chair. Sigh. In the end, mom came home and fed the baby. Ellen found that bag and it even had been brought inside so it wasn’t frozen solid, and all was well.
Ellen decided she wanted to record the baby's perspective
There were 6 adults who were all pretty into this baby. She always had someone wanting to play with her. When she got fussy, we all sang.
Why do you fill me up buttercup? from Kate Bedford on Vimeo.
No comments:
Post a Comment