Meatballs and pasta. What, what is not to love?! And even if I say so myself, these meatballs flavoured with Parmesan, and this sauce rich with mascarpone and pungent basil, is really lovely. 

Though I have an admission to make: despite its ubiquity in the UK I have never actually seen tomato and mascarpone sauce here in Italy. I think they just use cream. Which, in essence, is what mascarpone is (whoever called it cheese needs to go talk to a Frenchman). 

Never mind, it melts beautifully into this easy, bung-everything-in-the-pot-at-once sauce. 

A final word, before we get onto the recipe itself, on making meatballs. The very nicest, most moist and flavourful meatballs are not achieved using super-lean mince. Nope, you need a bit of fat in there. I therefore use good quality, 10% fat beef mince and a bit of pork mince. About 2/3 beef mince to 1/3 pork mince works well. 
In addition, you want your meat COLD. For some reason it helps the meatballs to hold together better. The best, and quickest, way to achieve this is to use meat that is only just defrosted and still very cold to the touch. Alternatively, if you're using fresh meat, you can let the meatballs rest in the fridge for 30 minutes before cooking.

Now let's go.

Serves: 6
Pots/pans to be washed up afterwards: 2
Prep time: 30 mins
Cooking time: 10-15 mins

Ingredients:

For the meatballs
200 g pork mince
400 g beef mince
1 egg
50 g bread crumbs
150 g Parmesan, grated
1 teaspoon dried basil
salt & pepper
olive oil

For the sauce
350 g ribbed pasta 
2 tins plum tomatoes
1 vegetable stock cube
large handful of basil leaves, roughly chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
150 g mascarpone
splash of balsamic vinegar
salt & pepper
olive oil

1. Place the mince, egg, dried basil bread crumbs and Parmesan cheese in a bowl, and add a pinch each of salt and pepper. Mix until smooth and very well combined (best to use your hands for this, though a fork is okay too). 

2. Roll into equally-sized balls. If necessary, leave to cool in the fridge for 30 minutes.

3. Prepare your pasta as per the packet instructions.

4. Meanwhile, heat a tablespoon of olive in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add your meatballs and cook for 10-15 minutes, tossing occasionally, until golden brown.

5. While the meatballs are cooking, make your sauce: place all the ingredients except for the mascarpone in a large pot and bring to a simmer. Leave for 10-15 minutes, until thickened.

6. When the meatballs are done and the sauce is nice and thick, add the mascarpone to the sauce and stir until melted. Serve immediately. 

Before the Bean was born, I thought I knew What Kind of Parent I Would Be.

I imagined I would not be a slave, neither to nappies nor to nap times, not to toddler tantrums or brimming laundry baskets.

I resolved that there would be no snacks-cum-bribery and no electronic devices before the age of two. (Are you laughing yet?)

I pitied, with barely hidden disdain, the mothers who ventured outdoors with stains on their clothes and biscuit crumbs in their handbags - not me who would "let herself go".

I pontificated about the merits of fine motor skill activities and reading nooks, certain my child would master "playing by himself".

I determined that there would be monthly date nights with Mr P&P, during which we would discuss more worldly and important issues than the latest in washable training pants.

And worst of all,

I preached. To mothers whose children were not sitting nicely, who couldn't keep an adult conversation going for longer than 30 seconds, who'd bail on nights out. I suggested ways in which they might do better, appear calmer, remain more self-aware and less consumed.

And now I am a mother, and I am all of the opposite. Our home is at barely tolerable levels of cleanliness despite seemingly never-ending evenings spent trying to keep on top of it all. I’m not even sure where my make-up bag is, I wear the same 3 pairs of comfy pants on rotation, my shoulders are almost always smeared with something snotty. I parent in a way that I never thought imaginable, going ever-closer to Attachment Parenting practices (though, I hasten to add, I don’t hate parenting method labels any less now than I did previously) and putting the Bean’s needs above everyone else's. Even those of my husband - Mr P&P and I have been on all of 3 date nights in 18 months, and guess what we talk about? A hint: it isn’t world affairs, not even what amazing educational activity we can come up with, for without YouTube-shaped toddler entertainment we would surely die.

Well no-shit-Sherlock, the sheer banality of this should come as a surprise noone, least of all me. What right to complain do I have, really, when every parent the (Western) world over goes through the same thing.

But sometimes brick walls are hit, and the “advice” you so magnanimously bestowed on others in The Days Before comes back to bite you in the ass. Already vulnerable, already tired, already weary from weeks of living past my husband without the energy to even think about his issues lest they distract from the endless will-never-get-done lists swirling in my head, I was told How To Do it Better. By someone who meant well but doesn’t have children, who didn’t know that keeping the Bean up late and going out (OUT!) together for a drink (A DRINK!) was already a big deal as it was. 

And just like that, I reached the end of my tether. I admitted to M-Big that I was not okay, and he admitted the same back. The lack of sleep, the relentless Milanese heat, the stresses of work followed by the intensity of our toddler’s demands, the loneliness of having to plod on regardless: sometimes it is just not okay.

But never fear, because we know we’ve been here before. Last summer was the same, and my twitter feed tells me we’re not the only ones who long for this school year to end. Who’d have thought this would apply to tiny toddlers, but there you go.

In a few days we’ll go to stay with the grandparents, get some rest, be fed. It will all be okay. I will remember with my head as well as my heart that we are very, very fortunate to have each other. I will realise once more that the best way to parent is, indeed, to let the toddler in your bed at 3am if it feels right. I will stop caring, just a little, that the current version of me is not immaculately groomed but perpetually late, creased, baggy-eyed and always on the look-out for a sleepy toddler cuddle. 

Here's a round-up of the things I have been making this month. As usual, many of them are still unfinished! 

Except for...

1. Yay! Something FINISHED. Find out how I made this pair of super-cute shorts out of an old pair of jeans here.

And here is the rest:

 6. And finally, my pride and joy: a toy kitchen that is 
 SO close to being finished. The top shelf just need
a lick of paint!

The Bean was a few days shy of three months when I first hauled him onto a plane. I’ll never forget it. Just the two of us, on an evening flight between Milan and Brussels: business suits and briefcases galore. Then there was me, right at the back of the plane, with a tiny baby attached to my boob. The glamour.

Since then the Bean has become a seasoned traveller, and Mr P&P and I are now experienced parents-with-small-child-in-tow. We’ve been to see the respective grandparents several times, attended a wedding in the US, gone to see the extended family in Brazil, spent three weeks in France. In just over a week we will go to the UK, and then it’s off to Brazil again.

So, if there’s one thing we know, it’s airports. And the Bean is getting to know them too. We noticed it already at Easter, but last week, on another trip to see my folks, it was clear beyond doubt: an airport has AAPLAAAA (airplanes)!!! 

And it has tons of shiny shops and weird decorative features, and runways and buses and baggage carousels and and AND! 

Doing airports with a toddler is intense, but it’s kind of fun too. We arrive ridiculously early, in case of lost lovies or meltdowns or emergency snack-stops. We let him press buttons on lifts and help (hinder) us roll the suitcases along. We arm ourselves with sticker books and a smartphone full of videos.

We also indulge a little: a new toddler rucksack here, a fancy meal there. We spread out and make ourselves at home, as though it’s just another ordinary place. Which, for us expats, it kind of is. 

One thing is for sure though. When I next get to do a long-haul flight by myself, I’ll be thankful for the most restful, relaxing experience ever.

Two link-ups this week!

Sometimes I think that alphabet soup was invented especially for families like ours. A cup of muddledness, defying all logic and rules and regularity. 

First there are the nationalities and cultures: I was born in Belgium but raised in England. Mr P&P was born in Brazil but raised in England, and now has British nationality. The Bean was born in Italy but has Belgian nationality, like me. I know. What?!

And then there are the languages.

I speak Flemish (which is the same as Dutch) to the Bean
Mr P&P speaks English to the Bean
Mr P&P speak English to each other
The Bean goes to a regular Italian nursery

Which means that he is being brought up trilingually, making him either very lucky or very confused. I don’t know, and we’ve had many a discussion about whether or not we are doing the right thing. We worry about whether three languages is too much, whether he’ll speak none of them properly and hate us for ever and ever.

We did, in the end, decide we had to try. Both Mr P&P were brought up in bilingual environments and have really benefitted from it. Both of us learn new languages easily, and between us we now cover 7 to varying degrees of competency. As a translator, languages are my bread and butter. How could we not at least try to give the Bean these same skills?

Our approach so far has been:

1. Be consistent
Each parent sticks to their own language when talking to the Bean. We have asked the nursery teachers not to speak to him in English, so that the distinction between the languages remains clear. When we’re with Italian friends it does get a bit confusing for all of us, but I generally stick to this rule: if I’m only addressing the Bean, I stick to Flemish.

2. Be creative
We try to stimulate his interest in talking and language in various ways: reading books (always on the present wish list!), singing songs, watching cartoons. He is starting to like activities involving the naming of objects and matching things, so puzzle books like this are really fun to do with him:

3. Be relaxed
Though I would love for the Bean to pick up all three languages, we can’t force him. We decided early on that we would never pressure him, never admonish for speaking the “wrong” language to one of us, never make a fuss. All we can do is encourage, gently, and take our cue from him.

4. Be flexible
We can’t predict how the Bean’s language skills will develop. We know that some multilingual children start to speak at a much later age than is deemed “normal”, that some of them mix their languages for years, that some have a clear preference for one language over another. It may well turn out that we need to change our approach at some point, or abandon one of the languages altogether. Time will tell, but we are certain that we don’t want to doggedly enforce something that isn’t working.

As you’ve probably guessed, coping with this patchwork of languages is still as much of a learning curve for us as it is for the Bean. So far, his understanding of all three is very good, and he’s surprised us by starting to talk quite early. He’s very, very keen to talk, but then he has always been a sociable baby.

I would say that the predominant language is currently Flemish, but he’s pragmatic, this boy: he pick the words that are easiest from each language! 

Unsurprisingly, his first words were ones that sound similar in Flemish and English:

Boo (boek/book)
Bea (beer/bear)
Meh (melk/milk)
Wa-wa (water/water)

There are also words that he mixes, as in:

Aapey (aap+monkey)

Funnily enough, we have little idea of how many Italian words he can say. It could be that we’re not listening out for them, but I do get the impression that he knows Italian won’t get him very far in our household!

It’ll be very interesting to see how things progress over the next few years, and especially whether we will manage to stay relaxed about it when he needs to start reading and writing at school.

It won’t come as a surprise to anyone that one of the hardest things about raising a child abroad is being separated from grandparents. They go for months without seeing the Bean grow up at break-neck speed and, though it may sound selfish, we have to go without a little extra help most of the time.

Of course, when we do see each other it’s extra-special for everyone. Which is not to be sniffed at when the alternative could be a rushed visit on a Sunday afternoon. We’ve also found ourselves sticking to a fun keep-in-touch ritual:

Skyping on a Saturday morning

It works perfectly. Bean wakes up early, Mr P&P’s parents wake up early. After a whole week without news, they’re dying to know what new and stupendously clever tricks he’s learned. After a whole week with boring old us, he’s dying for someone else’s unwavering attention.

And of course, they oblige. They make virtual coffee together and sing songs. The Bean dances for them and demonstrates the new words he’s learned.

The grandparents ignore us completely because, well, our week was probably as predictably work-filled as theirs. So we get some easy Bean-tainment and a sit down, or time to clear up the debris from breakfast.

I don’t think he understands the concept of talking to someone who’s not there - I’ve seen him try to hand them something or look behind the screen. Moments like that, when he’s clearly a bit confused, obviously tug at my motherly guilt strings.

Nevertheless, I can’t imagine a life without these video calls. Can’t imagine what it must have been like to yell down a crackly phone line once a month, to have to wait long seconds for the other person to even hear you, never mind reply. 

Video calls are in no way a substitute for real-life grandma & grandpa time, but I think it helps. It helps with the knowing and remembering. It helps with the missing, after we’ve been there or they’ve been here. 

The Saturday morning skype calls are a habit we’ve fallen into unintentionally, but they are now such a lovely part of our weekends that I’m certain all five of us look forward to them!

*For the record, we also skype regularly with the other set of grandparents! We just don't have a routine for it :-)

I'm not sure what it is about being on holiday, but I go from a frugal Minny (read parts I & II of the Thrifty Little Baby series here and here) to an absolute spendthrift: after MONTHS of combing second-hand shops, never buying toys on a whim, and making stuff myself, I went and bought the Bean a wheelbarrow, a new Duplo set, AND a doll. Granted, the wheelbarrow is also for his cousins - we're leaving it with the grandparents - but the rest? Unashamed consumerist parenting. Erk. It'a a good thing he immediately gave the doll a big old cuddle... (Cuuuutie patootie!)

And it's also a good thing I finished this super-thrifty little project today: 

I'm so chuffed with these beauties. They're made from an old pair of jeans of mine, based on this pattern. All sewn by hand too, as I don't have a sewing machine. 

The pattern is very, very good, as are the fabulously detailed instructions that go with it. I have never sewn anything from a pattern before (previously I've either adapted bought clothes or gone for the old 'winging it' approach), but I didn't find it hard to follow or execute at all. Well, apart from matching up the crotch seams together, which may or may not have involved a lot of swearing. 

I went for the 2Y size, to leave plenty of room for the Bean's big, cloth nappied bum. As I sewed by hand they obviously took a while to do, but with a sewing machine I imagine they wouldn't take longer than a couple of hours. The same pattern covers ages 1-10 years, and I'm pretty certain it would work just as well with old t-shirts, shirts or skirts, or leftover quilting cotton, too. 

Now to persuade the Bean to stand still for long enough to let me get a decent picture of him wearing my handiwork...

Disclaimer: I did not receive compensation in any way for including the link to the pattern for these shorts. 
I'm just pleased they turned out well, is all...