Bratwursts and Warriors

Okay, let the record show, had this little experiment not been published on the www yesterday, I would have climbed into Joey's noontime dessert bowl of gluten free cornflakes. Climbed in and opened wide.

I don't really even like cornflakes. But I am drowning in vegetables, and they sounded like an appetizing alternative.

Dave assured me that once I got over my 'Italian meat phobia' born of a single isolated incident which may or may not have involved horse meat, I'd feel a lot better. And as I sit here eating my THIRD smallish bowl of homemade paleo beef stew, (how obnoxious do I sound? Punch yourself, Jenny) I'm beginning to think he was right.

But I thought the cravings wouldn't start till day 4 or 6. So maybe I'll be fully converted and adjusted by then?

Anyway, on to more exciting things, like the pictures from last night's swearing in ceremony of the newest members of the Swiss Guard (the Pope's exclusive, private security force, dating back to Pope Clement VII) and the subsequent fully-catered Swiss banquet reception in the antechamber of Paul VI hall inside Vatican City. We be rollin'.

Group shot.

I drank zero glasses of the beautiful champagne and ate 1 whole, naked bratwurst dipped in special limited edition Swiss Guard mustard. When I saw grown men in suits pocketing the tubes of stuff stacked on the buffets, I figured I'd best snap a few up for our home collection, too.

The ceremony itself was a little long for a 1 and 2.5 year old to handle at dinnertime, but it was super cool when they actually came to the swearing of the oath. They marched up to their commandant one by one and aggressively grasped a horizontally-held flag before throwing their right hands up in this awesome thumb-index-middle-finger salute. Three for the Trinity. And then they screamed their oaths in German (or French, depending on where in Switzerland they hailed from.) And it was terrifying. And awesome. And guess what? They pack semi-automatics under those fancy striped pantaloons. So don't mess with Switzerland.

He'd be sad to hear it, I'm sure, but I think this wee little one is adorable.

Receiving line after the ceremony.

Clump of monsignores. Off camera: the President of Switzerland. (What? I didn't know what I was shooting at.)

Basically in my Gap last-season nautically striped dress and worn black flats, I was underdressed for this crowd...except for the large numbers of guests - family members of the new guards, no less - who inexplicably showed up in culots (sp?) and Tevas. One woman was rocking a fanny pack. The guy photo bombing the men of the cloth, pictured above, was only a giournalista, so his hip-hugging denim can be forgiven. But damn, a fanny pack?

Sometimes you just gotta text.

Anyway, the boys liked it a lot and a little, respective to their corraspondant ages, and Joey (loudly) inquired many, many times during lulls in the program 'What those warriors DOING, Daddy?!'

Joey and his Italian bff Isabel, admiring the halibards from their respective journalist/daddy perches.

Also, there were beer tents. On day one of the worst-country-in-the-world-to-pull-this-off Whole30. Touche, Italy.

Whole Family Whole30

Oh hey, is that a bandwagon? Let me just (huff...grunt...oooop, there we go.)

So breaking news: I'm kind of fat. Not in an obese kind of way, mind you, but in more of a had-2-kids-really-close-together-and-now-drinks-accordingly fashion.

I've always struggled with my weight, from the chubbiest days of 4th grade through the hellish wasteland of middle school and straight on via 4 varsity sports and an aggressive eating disorder in high school and a very, very devoted beer pong habit in college. And then there were those strange and magical 3 years of grad school + my first 'real world' job where I ran 5 half marathons ... and now there's motherhood.

I've been everywhere from a size 4 to a size 14, and while I look okaaaaay right now, I definitely look like the only American mom at the playground. Which is weird because...actually, never mind. But the point is this: I'm too fluffy for my own good. And Dave is in the same boat. Not the motherhood part, but the fluffy part.

And here's the other thing; we're not tourists here, but we sometimes act like it. Actually, we often act like it. We live just outside Vatican City, and Dave actually walks across St. Peter's Square every morning for his commute. It's beautiful. And it's packed with tourists and pilgrims from 9 am to 7 pm on any given day. And guess what they're doing? I mean besides stopping dead in their tracks on a crowded city sidewalk and getting bodyslammed by a double stroller. They're eating. And they're drinking. Gelato, cappuchinos, panini, biscotti, pizza, Peroni, vino...all manner of tasty food and beverage are being thrown back. And so we're all like, 'yeah, let's have a gelato!' or 'it's 2 pm and we live in Italy...time for some alcohol!'

But it turns out you can't live like a tourist. Because tourists eventually go home and start acting like normal, responsible grownups after their 2 weeks are up. And their regular lives probably don't include daily happy hours on the piazza with gelato nightcaps. And while we're not that bad about it, we definitely have room for massive improvement. Because oh my gosh, if we're going to be logging 2-3 miles on foot on a normal day and doing these ridiculous crossfit workouts, we may as well look like it.

Enter the Whole30. I was introduced to the concept of a whole foods 'cleanse' via my sweet friend Lucy, who is an amazingly talented photographer (and my best friend's little sister) who actually shot our wedding in her early professional days, and did a million dollar job for the price of a couch and a plane ticket.

Keep looking back there Jenny...it will never look the same.

Love this girl. She's also a new mama to sweet baby Edith and was struggling with some of the same body image issues, so last month she and her husband rocked out a Whole30 and look.at.this. I mean what?!! WHAT??!

It looks like she undid childbearing. Not that I'm looking to erase the evidence of my little cuties (and thanks to many, many stretchmark souvenirs, there's zero chance of that ever happening.)

So color me inspired, we're going for it. Plus, Dave is lactose intolerant and Joey is gluten intolerant, so why the hell not put the whole family on the same weird menu and cut my shopping down to 4 food groups?

So day 1. I'm putting it out there so you can virtually hold my hand and ask me in 5 days if I've caved and eaten an entire bag of 'santa fe taco flavor' chips from the local grocery store. (What? They taste like home. MSG tastes like home.) And you can see some of the recipes we're playing around with. This is not going to turn into a food and lifestyle blog or anything of the sort, because my photog skills are just not that good, let's be honest. And my design abilities are even more absent.

I'm not putting up 'before' pictures because, um, hello I still look like this. And it's embarrassing.
 *(okay, fine, here's a 'before' picture...but not the super embarassing wearing spandex-for-maxium-before-and-after-shock-value. That will come later, my friends.)

Behold: A WIWS reject featuring dreamy mom arms and double chin, tourist gut and shapely American thighs. Satisfied?

But maybe look forward to some side-by-sides if this works and I drop like, 7 or 30 lbs in a month. Kidding. Sort of.

This morning found us bright and early buying out the entire market of produce, and then led to hours of chopping, rinsing, cooking and simmering in la cucina. Now I do not relish being in front of the stove, not by a long shot. But ... it felt pretty good to be cooking stuff that is really, really good for my family. And to be making everything from scratch. Because, remember, no Super Target. Just le old agricultural market. So I had to make my own chicken broth. Which was both disgusting and oddly empowering.

On today's menu:

Breakfast: Eggs, sliced fresh coconut and coffee with coconut milk creamer. (And no, I did not make it. It came out of a can from Thailand.)

Lunch: Whole30 chicken salad lettuce wraps, raw green beans, and a handful of cashews

Chicken Salad recipe:

2 grilled chicken breasts, seasoned with pepper and lemon and shredded
2 tbs whole30 approved mayo
1 tsp chopped basil
1 diced crispy pear (translation: not ripe.)
2 stalks celery, chopped
half a small cucumber, diced
2 tbs raisins
3 tbs chopped cashews (any nut will do, but no peanuts. They're (sob) illegal)
1 tbs fresh lemon juice. (am I the last to know that there is no lemon juice in the squeezy yellow lemon bottles? Mind blown.)
sea salt and pepper to taste
Lettuce leaves for wrapping
Dump, mix, fill, enjoy

Dinner: Probably we'll all just stare at eachother and wonder what the hell we were thinking.

Stay tuned....

Sunday at the Castel

This morning our usual morning Mass plans at our parish were drowned in an unexpected spring rainstorm, forcing a last-minute substitution at our actual geographical parish (I'm assuming Rome does it that way) which was an immersion experience par excellence. Anyway, it looks like this:

It's actually a dead ringer for Dave's home parish in South Bend, IN. No offense, mom and dad.

I mean, I guess when St. Peter's Basilica is literally in your line of sight, you just give up, architecturally speaking.

Ugliness aside, the pastor at this parish is great. I think. I've only met him once and he machine gunned Italian at me while asking for my phone number and soliciting promises that we'd come to 3 or 12 events the parish is sponsoring this month for the 'festa di famiglia' or something like that. But he seemed awesome. And he did call me the very next day, I'm pretty sure, though I was so overcome with excitement that the voice on the other end of the line might be the post man delivering our modem that I yelled into the phone I'd be home in 2 minutes before hanging up and bolting down the block from my favorite coffee bar to meet him in the lobby. Nobody was there. Not in 2 minutes, and not in 20. In retrospect, perhaps it had been Fr. Luciano calling...

Anyway, longest tangent ever to say Mass this morning was an absolute circus. The music was good, kind of Steubie-esque in Italian, if that makes sense. And it was First Communion so oh my gosh all those adorable kiddos processing in with their candles, and later bringing up gifts of bread and bottles of Italian wine and cans of ... tuna. Weird.

But the spectators. Oh my gosh, if you've ever been to Mass on Christmas or Easter in the States, multiply that effect by about a thousand and you have an idea of what a sacramental event in Italy looks like. Weddings or First Communions, it doesn't matter, it will bring out the second-cousins-twice-removed who have been to church exactly twice in their lifetimes, and they may or may not bring their pocket chihuahuas in their dog purses.

We are talking stilletos everywhere. Fishnet stockings. Dudes wandering in and out of the sanctuary to smoke cigarettes. Children racing up and down the aisles (oh, wait, those were my own unchurched heathens...) and some of the nicest and the scariest outfits you will ever seen in a religious service. Armani suit? Check. Shredded daisy dukes layered over tribal print leggings with 4 inch platform heels? Check.

Anyway, we were more irreverent than the whole crowd combined since we bolted after Communion, and didn't even go back inside after we finished our cigs.

Later on once the weather cleared up we redeemed our Lord's Day with a leisurely stroll through throngs and throngs of tourists and pilgrims alike and headed to our favorite park, at the base of Castel San'tangelo.

It's one of the nicest playgrounds in Rome, which means there is hardly any graffiti, the equipment is in good shape, and there is soft rubber padding underneath that is mostly intact.

I have about a million adorable pictures of the boys and lucky for you, Blogger is tired tonight so all you get is this unsuspecting park-goer posing in front of the jungle gym. But dig those Roman pine trees in the background.

7 Quick Takes on the Decline of Western Civilization

Hell of a week, y'all. Can't say I've been particularly proud to be an American while reading/covering the news from home this week. Are you sick of seeing this on Facebook/Twitter/blogs yet? Well me too. But the truth must be revealed, even (and perhaps especially) when it's ugly. Because the only way to defeat evil, ultimately, is to expose it to the Light.

Is the news morbid, depressing, and defeating at times? Hell yes it is. But you know what? You might assume that everyone is already aware of this or that depressing/horrifying/shocking/infuriating situation, but you'd be wrong. The reason things like Kermit Gosnell murdering hundreds of breathing, born human babies and getting paid for it in a licensed 'medical' facility continue to happen is because people aren't aware, or if they are, their consciences aren't sufficiently formed to feel horror at the scope of evil we're dealing with.

And that's where we come in. To bring the message of the Gospel, yes. But also to denounce the anti-Gospel. To stand up in a crowded room and identify something evil as exactly that: evil.

Does that word make you uncomfortable? It should. It is the antithesis of what it means to be fully human, an impoverishment of our God-given nature. And it's real. And it's destroying souls and families and nations today, just as it has for a thousand generations beforehand. But lately, it seems, we've become deaf and dumb to its existence. And suddenly every kind of depravity and attack on the dignity of the human person is re-branded and repackaged as a 'lifestyle choice', a 'deeply personal decision,' or the laudable evidence of 'diversity.'

Lies. Calling something evil 'good' does not alter reality. And committing murder of human beings using surgical instruments doesn't make it medicine.

So hold on to your butts, readers, because we're going to pull back the curtain and look evil in the eye. And we're going to spit in its face and expose it for the rest of the world to see.

1. The Gosnell Trial. Horrifying, mind-numbing, and completely over-saturated by media coverage, at least on my newsfeed. But I inhibit a particular little corner of the internet where I see a lot of coverage of all things bioethics-related. So I trust that there are still plenty of people out there who don't know about the man who systematically murdered hundreds of unborn and born children at his filthy 'medical' facility over a period of decades, employing the assistance of unskilled and untrained staff members and disposing of the bodies (or keeping revolting trophies, as some serial killers are wont to do) in the most inhumane and gruesome manner. Vom now or vom later, the choice is yours.

2. Live Action President Lila Rose's latest undercover video investigations, '#Inhuman'. She is a boss. She is in her early 20's. And she is braver and more intimidating and effective than any single politician or investigative reporter on the planet. Live Action has dropped 3 shocking videos this week. None of them are shocking for what you'll see. There are no gruesome pictures. All of them, however,  are shocking for what you'll hear:

3. The first details the willingness of late-term abortion facilities to murder accidentally-born babies should the procedure fail,

4. The second provides evidence that abortion 'doctors' routinely break federal law in order to deny medical aid or resuscitation to failed abortion victims,

5. The third includes a step-by-step description of how a baby is dismembered inside the uterus (or sometimes outside, after birth) and how the remains are sent out to funeral homes (even though they're not human?) It also has some chilling footage from a Senate hearing in Florida of Planned Parenthood's view of the human person, and of their own perception of their role in the abortion business.

6. Fox News' correspondent on the O'Reilly factor didn't seem to share my opinion of her. Though she didn't seem able to form a coherent sentence, either. And had some weird facial tics going on, so I don't know, maybe she was on something.

7. The FDA's (and the President of the United States) endorsement of statutory rape. The Morning After abortion pill is now available OTC to children as young as 15. Who are, according to federal law and common decency, protected from sexual exploitation by statutory rape laws in every state in our nation. But just in case you get one of them pregnant, no worries, you can easily send her down to Walmart or CVS for a powerful dose of the dangerous and potent drug Levonorgestrel and bam, problem solved. 

I find it deeply ironic and more than a little disturbing that the President is himself father to two teenage daughters. But remember, this is the same man who doesn't want them 'punished with a baby.' Best make the Morning After pill available to teens then, to make certain the cycle of destructive behavior and precocious sexuality our young people are enslaved to continues to spiral out of control. Hell, why not officially endorse it?  

So there you have it. Depressing, disgusting, and oh-so-necessary to share until there is no filthy, darkened corner for this madness to hide in. Mother Teresa, who surely saw more filth and depravity in a day than the average human being could stomach in a lifetime, tells us we must 'be the change we wish to see in the world.' And so we must.


If you're still reading, good on you, solider. Head over the Jen's to have some peace restored.

5 Favorites

1. This guy.

Dave with baby Joey.

I could go on an on about his intelligence, his sense of urgency and integrity in his work, his fidelity to Christ and His Church, his love for me and for our little ones, his daddy skills, his finely tuned sense of ironic humor and ability to deliver deadpan one-liners to me in the most highly charged and emotionally inappropriate settings...but instead I'll just tell you that the first Halloween after we had children, he accompanied me to a costume party dressed as Antone the Bedroom Intruder (I went as Taylor Swift, the early years, and Joey was Tim Tebow).

I don't have any photographic evidence, but that's probably for the best, because in the wise words of my sister Tia, 'You can never unsee something.'

That, my friends, is a real man.

2. Like St. Joseph, whose feast it is today! I love my husband so much. He is cooking me nachos using impoverished Italian ingredients in our very kitchen right now, and this on his day off. St. Joseph the worker approves.

3. This place. Purveyor of fine imported goods and overpriced American indulgences. Think Betty Crocker brownie mix for around $8 a box. Think largish bottle of Heinz for around $7. Think you wouldn't pay those prices? Come live abroad for a month or four and then see if you'd change your tune for the occasional splurge.

Don't think I didn't enjoy every bite of the $2.50 can of black beans that graced my nachos today.

4. This blog. I haven't seen or heard from Jillian in 2 week's time, but I'm actually seeing definition in my arm flaps and in my legs for the first time since, oh, I don't now, 11th grade track season. Bonus: I got to use both Joey and JP as barbells this past week, since I am working within the confines of a rather (ahem) modest home 'gym' involving zero equipment. And they loved it. Okay Joey was actually really offended that I picked him up and did hang cleans with him, but John Paul smiled vaguely and didn't protest. I am a Crossfit believer!

5. Google calendar. Hi, I'm 9 years late to the party, but whatever. We just mapped out our entire summer schedule including appointments, visitors coming our way, trips we're taking, etc., and it feels ah-mazing to have it all in one place. Plus, I entered all our flight itineraries, booking numbers, directions to hotels, etc. onto each individual trip, ensuring that when we are inevitably stranded in some nameless airport in the Midwest US this summer I can whip out Dave's Blackberry and pull up all the info we forgot to write down somewhere between security in Rome and baggage claim in Chicago. Or Denver. Or DC. You get the point.

I don't know why I never thought to do it before, but I'm feeling awfully clever and modern for having figured it out. Plus, now Obama can track our every movement with complete convenience. Winning!

Thanks for hosting, Hallie!