New York Style Parenting Vs. Italian Style

Yesterday was the first day Bruno and I were completely alone since his first day home after birth. His Italian grandparents had flown in from Siena to help us, and to help Bruno, for almost a month. Let's just say it was a rougher day than usual yesterday. Let's review possible reasons why:

New York mommy's response to constant crying: "what are you a fucking pussy?"

Italian nonni response: Bruno is smothered with kisses and baby mimicking sounds/noises, Italian lullabies, while being cradled in his grandparents' arms at the first sign of discomfort.

Not to say that mommy New York style is harsh, but yesterday Bruno was crying out for the nonni who were no longer here and mommy was thinking, "I'm not a fucking octopus, and I don't have eight boobs either."

So we spent the day walking around my neighborhood in circles, breastfeeding more often than a devout catholic prays or feels guilty, and bounced on the exercise ball trying to get Bruno to sleep a million times. He would not sleep yesterday . . . and today, the best thing with newborns is that there's always a new day and a new behavior, Bruno is sleeping all day. And I'm starving because he's sleeping ontop of me and I don't want to wake him up because yesterday was tough for him, and now he is finally peaceful.

It might take a little while for Bruno to acclimate to mommy who is a little rougher around the edges than the Italian style, but I have the boobs, so I know I will be forgiven.