My mother is 60 and you wouldn’t believe it

Exactly what I meant in the title. My mother is 60 today, and if you look at her in the picture below you wouldn’t bet one penny that she’s already 60 years old.

my mother is 60, happy birthday mother

I can hear my mother saying: “Eeeeek, that picture makes me look so ugly!” Well, I really like this picture, deal with it, dear mother!

I hope I’ll age so well too, but I’m afraid I took more genes from my father side, my sister will get a better chance though :D

All right, now that we have all see how much younger my mother looks like, let’s celebrate her.

Mother, not mummy

My mother’s name is Patrizia, she’s the fourth of seven siblings.
I call my mother mother, all the times. Last Christmas she complained about that, she told she’d love for once if I call her ‘mamma’ (mummy).
I’ll phone her today and I’ll never call her mother. Promise.

The fact the I address her that way is a great sign of respect from my end, but since today it’s her birthday, I’ll make an exception. You don’t celebrate your 60th birthday everyday, do you?

My mother is…

My mother is 60, and is also a lot of many many MANY other things. She has a lot of hobbies and she doesn’t like getting bored. She often complains that she’s tired, but she’s always around making, cooking, saying, crafting, doing. What a pinball!

I resemble my mother

mother and I 1987

Mother and I in 1987. Mother was pregnant of my sister Sara. As you can see I’ve always been a smiling person.

Yeah, maybe I don’t look like her (you should see my sister, on the other hand! They look a lot alike!), but we have many things in common. We’ve fought a lot when I was younger, probably also because we’re similar in so many ways.

She (and my father) instilled in me the sense of the hardworking and dedication in everything I do. She taught me to respect people and always keep my dignity.
One of the greatest things I took from her is the compassion and sympathy she always shows towards the others. Without these, she couldn’t be able to be the amazing nurse everybody in my city appreciate. She lost her dad (my granpa) when she was 19. My younger uncle was only 8 years old when it happened, and probably (I think) that pushed her to be a nurse.

She’s been managing many wards at the city hospital, and every time she left a ward, people missed her. She can be very strict and tough sometimes (don’t tell me about that!), but without discipline and respect from the others, you cannot manage a hospital ward, or a family – or have loyal friends around you.
I treat everything that happens in my life with the same attitude my mother uses to run their wards – which is a good and a bad thing for me ;)

My mother is tech savvy

my mother with her sister, mother snapchat

My mother likes Snapchat

Even if she hasn’t quite understood what I do for a living, my mother is 60 and is not a tech klutz at all. Sometimes she may not get something specific, but she’s completely capable of using a mobile device or a computer by herself, keep them updated and solve everyday issues that may happen.

She likes selfies a lot, and I’m so glad when she sends them to me, so I can tease her :P

My mother is on Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, Telegram. We even have a family group where we chat on a daily basis (mostly about food!).

I’m not one of those kids that put a privacy filter on what they publish, so my parents can’t see them – I’m not a kid anymore! I thank the Internet and the social media everyday, because they shorten the distances.

When I was at the uni, there wasn’t anything else, a part from the (expensive) phone, that I could use to keep in touch with my distant family and friends. Now it sounds like Italy is just around the corner :)

My mother is 60 and I miss her a lot

</tough reality moment>
My parents are not going to be here forever. At some point, they’ll die and I’ll be alone dealing with everything, and the world will fall down on me.
</tough reality moment>

I can’t believe my mother is 60 today, and I’m not there with her to celebrate. That makes me think on how many things I’m missing out about my loved ones, because they’re far away from me. I love living in the UK, but sometimes it gets tough.

She and my father are coming to visit me and husband next month, and I am really looking forward to it.
I know that shortly after we’ll find something to fight about, but that’s pretty normal, isn’t that? :D

My mother and I are not very vocal in expressing our feelings for each other – we just ask each other if we have eaten properly.

I couldn’t have wanted a better mother than her. I’m so lucky and blessed, and honoured to be her elder daughter. She looked after me and made me the proud person I am now.
I hope to be able to celebrate her next 60 birthdays, at the very least.

I promise I’ll take more selfies with my mother.

Happy birthday, mamma.

Advertisements

You can be a mother and win an Olympic gold medal

Kerri Walsh Jennings taught me that you can be a mother and win an Olympic gold medal. The two things can live together.

Kerri Walsh Jennings, be a mother, olympic gold medal, beach volley

Kerri Walsh Jennings is a 38 years old american beach volley player who has a wonderful story to share with all the women around. She is the living proof that you can be a mother and win an Olympic gold medal. Actually three of them, one for each kid she has.

Rio 2016 will be the fourth time at the Olympics for Kerri. Her three kids are going to watch her mother competing for their nation, the USA. What Kerri’s kids maybe don’t know is that not only is Kerri her lovely mommy, but she also managed to win the latest three Olympic gold medal in the beach volley discipline – 2004-2008-2012. An impressive record.

And yes – she can be a mother and being a record-scorer Olympic legend at the same time.

The Olympics and motherhood are not so different

In this interview Kerri explains that there are not many differences between being a mother and winning an Olympic gold medal.

“It’s the same thing with having a baby. It’s all just a miracle, and it’s really fun, and it’s such a journey to get to this point . . . In childbirth you forget how hard it is. In the Olympics, you kind of forget the emotion and excitement.”

Kerri has indeed a winning mentality, the one that only the top-player endorses. In fact, she doesn’t want to “attend” the Olympics, she’s actually at Rio 2016, like the other times, to win a medal.

“Never give up, never give in, and when the upper hand is ours, may we have the ability to handle the win with the dignity that we absorbed the loss.

This is a Doug Williams’quote that Kerri Walsh Jennings keeps repeating to herself like a mantra during London 2012 Olympic Games. This is something that helped her overcome the pressure and the trouble that an Olympic tournament can put you through, as well as childbirth and motherhood.
Her status as a mother, though, helped her as well.

Kerry’s extraordinary story as an athlete and a mother reminds us that you don’t need to give up a part of yourself to make amazing results. You can be a mother, win an Olympic gold medal, and be whatever you want to be. If you really want it, you can achieve them all.

Photo credit: cdn.skim.gs 

Why I’m not ready to be a mother [no motherhood tips inside]

Find the real lamp. Find the real dog.

I’ve been written quite often about mothers recently: crabby mothers, Olympic athletes’ mothers, moms at the Olympics. Maybe some of you have even thought that I was hit by a desire for motherhood, since I’ve just reached the threshold of 28 years.  Think again.

Last weekend I took advantage of an unexpected not-working bank holiday and a beautiful sunny day for a quick tour through the timeless wonders of Rome. I pushed my journey mates – partner, sister, future-brother-in-law, a friend and my dog – for stopping and viewing Torre Argentina’s archaeological site. This place is quite renown because is located in the very centre of Torre Agentina Square and is also famous for being populated by a large colony of street cats.
And then the nightmare began.

A black cat without a tail managed to pull its paw through the tight net of a gate and deadly scratched my dog’s eye. I was there, leading my dog on a leash, yet I totally didn’t realise what was going on. Actually even the dog didn’t notice the cat so he couldn’t defend himself. I know that my dog didn’t see the cat approaching because he loves cats and once he spots one he always catches their attention with leaps and vocalisations.

On the contrary, this time neither of us saw the cat, who probably thought that the dog was a regardless enemy, then it attacked him apparently for no reason.

I could only see the moment when the cat grabbed the dog’s eye, puncturing his cornea. My clothes got filled with water from my dog’s cornea. From that point I realised I’m too young – mentally speaking – to be a mother.

Right after the accident I had a bad panic attack, I’m not ashamed to admit it. I do not exactly remember to whom I handed the leash and – for the record – the dog didn’t yep at all. I had to sit on a bench and try to calm down. I recall I was hyperventilating, everything was so blurred and with no sense. I can’t remember the time when I sat down on that bench. I felt my legs and breath missing. And I swear, I swear so loudly I guess even that people at the Colosseo had heard me.
Luckily the other guys were with me – my soon to be brother-in-law especially. He’s a volunteer paramedic so he had enough cold blood to give my dog’s eye a quick look and figured  that we had to step in.

Then we had a crazy run along Via del Corso towards the subway, to reach the car parked outside the historical centre (it looked like an endless journey, man) and then we hit the road to the closest veterinary clinic open on Sundays, on Via Flaminia.
The only thing I was able to think in that moment was the pain that the dog was feeling because of my carelessness, plus the fact that we had to reach the vet clinic pretty quickly. Via del Corso was so packed of people and I was so desperate that I started to muscle our way splitting people here and there, like a rude traffic cop. Or an American football player. I was moving forward so fast that the rest of the gang couldn’t keep my pace.

The dog eventually seems to feel better, his cornea is still sore and there is a small ulcer that we are dealing with 4 different eyedrops and a very precise timing of giving, as the vet told us. He did not lose his eye, but that is definitely not my credit.

I can rationally understand that the accident was not my fault, but my instinct tells me an endless series of ‘I could’ and ‘I should’. The reaction I had after my dog’s accident is not a sign of maturity. If it had happened to my son instead to my dog, being alone with him, what would I have done?
I feel sorry for my boyfriend, but a lot of water must pass under the bridge before procreating.