My Thanksgiving thought for my parents

I know Thanksgiving doesn’t belong to my culture, though I’m happy to be thankful for those two.

a thought for my parents

Not all my friends still have the bless of enjoying their parents at my age, so I cherish every single moment I can spend with them.
Since Thanksgiving is a great moment to spend some time to be grateful over all the things we have in our lives, I have a thought for my parents and my sister, since I’m very proud of her.
I’m grateful for all they taught to me and for their unconditional love.

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Taken at Nuoro, Sardinia

Meet my parents, a wonderful couple

Shout out to this wonderful couple - my #parents. Franz and I are being married for 2 weeks now and I do hope we'll be as those two, being married since 1983 and still living their life together as it's day #1. Shame they live far from me but guess it's the high price for being a successful young lady. I feel blessed to have them in my life. #lucky #family

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Shout out to this wonderful couple – my parents.

Franz and I are being married for 2 weeks now and I do hope we’ll be as those two, being married since 1983 and still living their life together as it’s day #1. Shame they live far from me but guess it’s the high price for being a successful young lady. I feel blessed to have them in my life.

Taken at La Caletta, Nuoro – Sardinia

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Un applauso a questa bella coppia – i miei genitori.

Io e Francesco ci siamo sposati appena due settimane fa e spero che io e lui, negli anni, possiamo diventare come questi due simpatici —-enni (l’età non si dice) ritratti in questa foto. I miei genitori, Giannetto e Patrizia, si sono sposati nel 1983, eppure ogni giorno sembra che sia il primo, per loro.
Peccato per la distanza fisica che ci separa, ma credo che questo sia il fio che debbo pagare  per essere una giovane professionista di successo. Buona parte di questo lo devo anche a loro, ovviamente!
Mi sento molto fortunata ad essere stata cresciuta da questi due, e sono contenta che siano ancora li, a farsi selfie come due ventenni!

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Parenting a reborn doll – being a mother for a weekend

What if you ended up looking after a robot baby during the weekend? It happened to me and my partner a couple of weeks ago.

being father, fatherhood, baby robot, reborn doll, being parentsYes, weird things may happen to anyone, and this time it’s up to me. The start-up company I work for decided to give the people who are not parents yet reborn dolls to look after for a whole weekend.

First reaction: NO. FREAKING. WAY.
Second reaction (after having ask my CMO if we would get fired if refusing the task – his answer was a subtle “I don’t know”, lol): OK. Maybe I can do it.

I’ve never seriously thought of parenting and having a baby until the moment this baby robot activated. My weekend changes ever since. I planned to go here and there in London and I actually I managed to accomplish all my planned stuff, but it was different. Way different.

Here’s part of the report I wrote for Wauwaa Biz website about my reborn doll experience.
You can read the rest by clicking on the link below.

baby robot, reborn dolls, maternity, parenting, being parents, become mother, “I deal with products for parents and growing families every day. I know every word and item that mums need to know. And yet I didn’t know what our customers’ lives look like and how they get by with their kids.

Wauwaa gave all their childless employees a reborn doll, active from Friday at 6PM until Sunday at 10AM. The entire 6.5 lbs of weight on the baby doll is distributed like in a real infant, with its head heavier than the rest of the body. I said once that I was not ready to be a mum, and little has changed since then. So you can imagine my excitement at receiving the reborn doll!

Along with the robot baby they gave us a feeding bottle, two nappies and two wristbands. Both nappies and wristbands have a magnet that reacts when it makes contact with the doll’s belly, simulating a parents soothing voice and reassuring the child of their presence. We received soft organic slings from Babylonia to transport the baby outside (and yes, I walked around London with the reborn doll).

Weekend mission: do not kill the thing.”

Click here to continue reading about parenting reborn dolls

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.