I have been here for a month!
And it took until today to tell Margherita that I have a boyfriend.
Let me give you some background on the recent weeks of my host siblings. Starting school knocked something loose in their heads. The concept of attending this place is too much for them to even fathom. This is the second full week for them and they are still completely shocked when it is time to turn off Friends (on DVD, not syndication, and ALL Italian) and get ready for bed. There is usually alot of crying, alot of coaxing, and alot of me sitting with the baby and whispering to her, "What am I supposed to do?" It is amazing how rarely she gives me any sound advice. Sometimes, though, she throws up on my jeans, which is nice.
Since the girls know that bed time is quickly approaching by the time I get home from school, they intend to make every second with me count. The only thing that usually stops them is the notion that I am tired or if I am actually asleep. On Saturday when I was in my day long coma, I was half conscious in bed when Margherita busted in. She looked at me, considered jumping on me, then decided that she should let me sleep. Good girl. Well, guess what? I have found one other form of kryptonite. I thought for sure that telling them I have homework would work but they actually laugh at me when they see me writing in a notebook and pull me into the other room to play or watch tv. Usually Friends. And I like that. But they love playing school and restaurant and doing card tricks and coloring and endless little kid activities. The newest obsession is watching Mamma Mia songs on youtube on my laptop. This is especially hilarious because of my personal (and heated) aversion to Mamma Mia. But I do it to appease them. Because I'm a pleaser, you know? Especially when it is my host sibs who have to live with me for another 3 months. Anyway, I was on the internet today, chatting up some of my pals, and Margh came in and plopped herself on my lap. She moved my hands off of the keyboard and just said "Mamma Mia!" over and over again. When this happenened before, absolutely nothing would settle her. I would tell her I had homework, or simply, or "THIS IS NOT YOURS THIS IS MINE" which is what I yelled at her when she started deleting a story I was writing. So after timidly saying no a few times I finally said, "Parlo a mia amica, Emilia." I talk to my friend Emily. She did NOT care. Emily? Big deal. MAMMA MIA.
I thought about this.
"Parlo a mio....ragazzo." That literally means I talk to my boy., which I was doing so it was not a lie. As soon as she heard this she slowly slid off of my lap and looked at me. The expression on her face was not what I expected. I assumed that she would react in typical Margh fashion: jumping, teasing, demanding to see pictures, etc. Instead, all of her 8 year old wisdom took over and she simply nodded. I can't help but think that there was a hint of a smile. Like, she got it. "Yes," she seemed to say, "I can totally relate to you right now," Then she picked up my camera, located a picture of said boy, and showed it to me. I nodded. She sized up the picture, realized that her assumptions about this boy had been correct, and then left my room.
There is a fairly good chance that this subdued nature will not last for long. In fact, she ran into my room about 10 minutes later and covered my arms and hands in butterflies and stars using oil crayons. That's ok, though, because I like to come up from behind her, cover her cheeks with my hands and yell "FREDO." That means cold. And then I tickle her and have a good hearty laugh at my defeat over the 8 year old.
What is Arianna up to? The other night she came into the living room to say good night. I was looking away so I only heard her voice. "Buona Notte!" Her voice sounded sweet-too sweet. What does this kid want? I turned to respond. "Buona No-OH GOD." Sweet Ari had blown her nose with her face. Seriously. It was everywhere. I quote Suzie Graham when I say "It looked like her face got caught under the glaze machine at the donut shop." Snot. Snot. Snot. Everywhere. This was her best joke. Her crowning achievement. And I reacted just as she wanted me to. And then she coyly asked me....oh, is there something on my face? Perhaps this is payback for when I pointed out that she had Nutella on her cheeks a few Saturdays ago. But probably not, because snot jokes are super funny when you're 5. "Che scifo. Oh, Jesus, scifo. Just-yeah-(pointing) go. Uh, va. Ari, just, oh my, just, va. Scifo." That is basically a verbatum re-enactment. It surely didn't help that Ari had just recently started eating spoonfuls of mayonnaise at dinner every night. Italian mayo. Have you SEEN that stuff? So that image plus the snot....che scifo. Che fucking scifo.
Jokes aside, the girls are great and so is the family. I am pretty constantly entertained and sometimes when I think I need to just brood and be by myself they remind me that it is much more fun to brood while watching Friends in Italian. Also, Margh does a pretty spot on Janice impression. She kind of cocks her hip, one hand on and the other snapping at the wrist as she whines, "OH! MIO! DIO!" It's hilarious and we love watching episodes with Janice. One time Fabio was watching with us. It was an episode in which Chandler woke up with Janice and he totally regretted it. Needless to say, I could tell by ol' Fab's face that he could perhaps relate to this situation. His simple response: "Janice. She is....horrible."
Lesson: Italian mayonnaise makes me want to die. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Of all the things I have legitimately learned in Italy, I can honestly say that so much as seeing myself write about it makes me want to take some Tums and try to think of any other image but Italian mayo.
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