Coffee chip ice cream

 



 

 

Besides the many fond memories and the result of some shopping sprees that we brought back from our vacation, there is another very tangible reminder of our trip to the US: my kids' English. As much as I love to see my kids flipping through childrens' classics and looking at their impossibly cute new Converse, the thing that really makes my heart soar is hearing them speaking to me in English.

 

It is strange and sometimes hard to watch my own flesh and blood speaking (and gesticulating) in a language that is not my mothertongue; when the music and songs of their childhood are not the ones I grew up with; when their passport is another color than mine, when they say "Mommy, your flag" whenever they see an American flag.

 



 

 

Naturally, I have been reading to them in English since they were babies and every time I go to the States I expand our collection of American and English classics. I taught them the songs of my childhood and showed how to make an itsy bitsy spider with their hands. We have fun, if very muted versions of Halloween and Thanksgiving at home and they are learning that it is important to Mommy that the American flag is "our" flag and not just mine. But I realize, as much as I try to teach them about my American (and German) heritage, that they are ultimately Italian kids. That now that they are in school, they share songs and stories with their friends and are forgetting the words to The Wheels on the Bus. That my daughter is learning to read, write, add and subtract in Italian and that she will automatically count in Italian for the rest of her life, even if she becomes fluent in English, just as I still count in English, even now that my Italian has probably surpassed my mothertongue.

 

I know from experience this is a good thing, even if it may not sound like it reading this, because it is not always fun being the odd-one-out wherever you are. It is good to feel like you belong, that you are just like everyone else, especially when you are a child. But I can't help feeling a little pang when they call me mamma.

 

Since we have gotten back, however, when we sit around our kitchen table, I am no longer the only one speaking English. I love the sound of it, I love every mistake and mispronunciation, when my son says "Kepach" instead of ketchup and my daughter says "don't can" instead of can't. Yesterday my little boy said "Mommy, I want to go into the pool con you" and I was in so fast even he couldn't believe it. On Saturday morning I heard giggles and shouts of "one for the money, two for the show" (where the heck did that come from by the way???) from the living room and I smiled while I was making ice cream. For now F is Daddy instead of me being mamma. I know it won't last, but I will enjoy every minute of it until it does. And in the end, it will all turn out all right. I am sure my kids will be a wonderful mix of all the good things our two countries have to offer because they are lucky enough to have the best of both worlds.

Cinnamon crumble coffee cake and TMI

                       

It is a dark, wet Monday morning. A steady drizzle is falling from the sky and I need coffee, badly. F. and I were up all night, our sleep interrupted intermittently by the yet uninterpreted crying of our youngest. I realize that whenever I mention my kids, I describe some form of malady. Case in point, on our drive to Piedmont on Saturday morning, my older one revisited the below described recipe in the car (I promise it was good, although I will admit it did not seem quite as appetizing the second time round, when I was cleaning it off the seats). I however just wanted to point out that they are actually healthy, energetic, happy children, so please do not feel obliged to leave nice, caring comments about their health conditions. Temperatures, snot and digested food in various forms are unfortunately just a part of having darling children, as so many of you know. Ok, I realize this is much too much information for a food blog (or any blog actually), so if anybody is still reading, forgive this digression.

Back to the dark, wet morning...I would not mind a steaming hot cup of coffee and a piece of that cinnamon crumble coffee cake I made on Friday evening. It only requires ingredients you already have at home if you bake every so often and makes a darn good breakfast. I realize I am on a cinnamon roll, but I can't help it. Cinnamon equals fall and the holidays to me and there is nothing that smells quite as good when it is baking away in your oven, so bear with me.