Strictly speaking "I don't do" personal posts. I love reading other peoples, but personally, I don't go there.
It is really easy to talk about food, or to share a recipe, but when it comes to personal stuff I clam up. I have no idea why, but it feels so uncomfortable posting personal pictures, and personal details onto the web for the world to see. Who knows I might get used to it, but for now I have a phobia of doing it. And yes that is so stupid, but I am very silly and chicken like that (so this message will self destruct in about a week).
Anyway enough beating around the bush, as you may or may not know, depending upon wether I nonchalantly dropped a brief comment or hint about nappys, babys, childbirth etc, onto your blog. There is now a little Luigi running around the house (well sitting in a Moses basket, mainly sleeping, crying and peeing).
So since my little sister Mari, asked, and since it is of course one of the most joyous occasions one can enjoy, second only to marriage itself (cough), here is my "personal blog" of my road map to fatherhood. So without further ado meet the other half and junior.
Here is my better half, who despite my best efforts at turning her into a couch macaroni like me, does just enough exercise to stay healthy, despite devouring everything I cook.
The below photo was taken in Malta, we were on vacation and it was quite early in our relationship, so she was still impressing me with tight shorts, and I was impressing her with my ability to eat my own body weight in pasta. And where we discovered that the Maltese like to feed tourists on gruel, or the kind of stuff that gets thrown in bins in the rest of the world. Really, why is there so few decent places to eat, and on an Island thats only around 3 miles across, there can hardly be any hidden gems I didn't find. The island is so far as I can tell devoid of decent food. And oh, not much of a beach there neither. That aside, Malta is lovely.
The next photo was taken in the lovely town of Windsor, and it was the day I proposed. Hence the look at my "no ring" on my hand gesture. I had managed to purchase a ring about fifteen sizes too big. (my excuse was that I believed the ring of power would shrink to the size of the bearer, well it did for Frodo in LOTR)
So although she foolishly accepted a marriage proposal, she wasn't able to wear the "one ring" for a few weeks while it was sent away to Mordor to be halved in size, and have the elvish text removed. Still at least the diamond looked bigger in a smaller size ring.
Some time later on a very hot day, I was forced to dress up like someone selling icecreams, and went along happilly, to a church, to sign some documents. Apperantly they involved agreeing to willingly agree to give away everything I own (aka Marriage).
Aww don't we look sweet. And yes my button hole had wilted in the 40 degree heat.
Anyway, we had been happily married, for less than a year, when the below cute item was left on our doorstep in a moses basket, by a huge white stork, with no instruction manual, and most definitely, a no 28 day return policy (I tried calling the hospital, apparently they can't be put back).
That isn't quite what happened, but its going to be the way I remember it. Baby Sergio is now 6 weeks old, has smiled once at having his foot tickled, and does in the above photo look scarily ginger. But he isn't.
And for many reasons, I am very happy indeed.
Thanks for reading..