The Baptism Whisperer

We had the incredible honor to be a part of the baptism of Jack Epifanio D'Angelo IV, aka "baby Jack."

Jeff was asked to be the godfather, an incredible honor! Plus, the D'Angelos and the Cecchins are forever joined, so we can stop hoping that Marco will marry Brookie. Sigh of relief, since Brooke seems over Marco already now that she's at pre-school.

Please note, Jeff was very well behaved and didn't say "You can act like a man!" even once. Points if you know what I'm talking about.

I was in charge of keeping Marco, Brookie and Nikos under control in church. I got mad props for their good behavior. I was really pretty full of myself, so I didn't leak my secret. Shh... I plied them with Skittles.

Big big Jack and Bev hosted the after party, which included a kid room upstairs that the kids never left. Marco surfaced once for a cupcake and then went back in. A great, civilized party. In traditional Cecchin fashion, we were the last ones at the party. Congratulations Baby Jack. We love you.

And as always, here's the proof.

Bonus points if you can name and recognize the Eggerts, Farrells, D'Angelos and Mulkerins.
Family pic, that of Christmas card fame.
The kids are so darn cute in these pictures, I honestly can't stand it. Brookie looks gorgeous!

The D'Angelos gave Jeff a personal pizza peel with CECCHIN FAMILY PIZZERIA, est. 2010. I thought he might cry. ;)

Posted from Hell

Although the cousin blog's were very complimentary (thanks Auntie Sara and Auntie M), let's just say it. Marco (and only Marco) tried his best to ruin the 2010 Cecchin cousin's picture.

With no warning, no reason and no consideration for his mother, Marco adamantly refused to take part in any Cecchin family fun. Bribes, threats and demonstration (think me on the floor posing with the cousins) were offered shamelessly and fruitlessly and were met with screaming, tears and stubbornness. Ever the devoted cousin, Tommy fell victim to a black eye and bleeding ("cut me mick,") to try to detract attention from Marco.

Simply, Marco was pissed.

I nearly sold him to the gypsies after the debacle. I figured I could get a good price. (He looks strong.) Until, last night, he sweetly said, "Mama, aren't we fun together?"

Despite Marco's best attempts, the picture actually turned out pretty darn cute, or more accurately labeled "okay." You be the judge.

To really get Mama's goat, after the photographer left and the cousins vacated, he quickly jumped into the spotlight to pose. I murmured choice words under my breath and snapped a few illegal shots with my phone.
ps - Why oh why does Picture People run 20 degrees hotter than the rest of the universe?

When we work together as a team...

Couple Marco's recent obsession with super heroes and the benefits of having a retired teacher for a grandma (with a penchant for technology) and this is what you get.

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Boots.

Marco's latest punch line that cracks us up, "Don't let me die with my boots on."

I think we'll start skipping the late night Westerns.

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Meaty thighs.

We had Marco's 3-year appointment today (a little early). Marco was perfect, a little quiet, but reminding the doctor what to do, "now my other ear..."

Weight, height, sight, blood pressure, shots - and his favorite - reflexes.

The nurse came in and barely glanced at him before she said, "we'll give him the shots in the thigh. Meaty."

Stats:

Weight: 35.4 lbs or 87%
Height: 38 inches or 60%
Charm: off the charts!











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I'm watching you.

Ever since Bill stole Marco's Thanksgiving roll evoking a quivering lip, Marco has been very into "I'm watching you."

It's supposed to be like my eyes are on you, but it comes out more like a Hogwart's curse or like he's trying to fling something on you.


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Wine Country

We took Marco wine tasting when we were down south. He was a perfect gentleman, but obviously a novice. He passed out early.





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Little monkey.

As we had any doubts that Marco was a certified boy, he had a blast climbing the trees at the marina. I told him not to climb too high and he said, "because the monkeys and the bananas are up there?" um, yes.

He climbed so high that he couldn't get down. I had flashes of fire departments and broken bones, so yes, you guessed it, I climbed the tree too. I feel like I should write a review for Steve Madden, "multipurpose, comfortable and stylish while retrieving overly zealous monkey from tree."









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Boat Grandma makes the best gnocchi.

Our long weekend on Poseidon spoiled us with family and excellent, excellent food. We haven't broken it to Marco that "Boat Grandma" is a chef and that not all two-year olds get to eat veal chop and homemade gnocchi for dinner. Of course, we didn't break it to Grandma that not all two-year olds want to roll their own gnocchi and eat veal.

They make a nice pair.












With veal chop on the bone in one hand, he devours gnocchi with the other...





Marco credited Grandma for the best gnocchi. When we asked what Boat Papa makes the best, he said, "bananas." :)

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Oh, hi Brad.

On my way to take Marco to stay with Grandma extraordinaire ("Barney Grandma"), the bridge was closed for police activity. Complicated Cecchin Plan B. We pulled off, hop on BART, avert a momentary meltdown that the Marco's bike couldn't come on BART, run to the station dragging a 2-year old and navigate the "moving stairs" up onto the platform just as the train is pulling up.


Phewf. I relax and Marco says, "Oh, hi Brad." and climbs up on his lap. I look at him like a crazy person until I realize our next door neighbor is on BART with us. ha.

I like bananas and carrots too!

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Location:Oakland

RIP mohawk

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That's the cooking spirit.

You will never believe the amount of cooking that happened in our house a couple of weeks ago. Jeff's cousin Brian called and said, "Hey, let's cook." They selected a weekend. We didn't put out an invite because Jeff's family can smell a cook off 75 miles away. I think we had about 30 folks show up to make sure we were sticking to our Italian roots.


Here are the handsome chefs:
And their tools. Yes, Brian brought his own KitchenAid.
Yes, Jeff was insanely jealous that his was the least manly of the two.

Elizabeth and I sous cheffed.
Brian also brought butchered pig parts from a pig he raised (of course).
The boys' toys grind the meat double time for sausage.
We nearly missed a meal Friday night, but luckily while the potatoes boiled for gnocchi, we threw together some pesto for dinner with basil from our garden.
The fresh herbs were all from our garden, the veggies from Brian's.
Saturday morning as we prepped for the big party, Jeff threw a pizza into the oven for lunch. Narrowly avoiding another near missed meal.

As the oven cooled from pizza, Jeff threw in six loaves of bread for our feast.
The Cuisinart was making fresh breadcrumbs while the mixers tackled bread kneading and potato ricing. Our electrical got a work out.

We stuffed zucchini and mushrooms from the Farmer's Market with homemade sausage, homemade breadcrumbs and cheese. I also put together a veggie version, Jeff's family is a little heavy on the veggie types.

Friday night we marinated onions in balsamic. I nearly forgot (darn wine!) but Brian remember just in time to stuff his two chickens (that he raised of course). RIP Amelia and Virgil.

LOVE that Brian travels with his own kitchen counter. It was Grandma Eda's! Can you believe all of Brian's stuff fit into his Prius. ha.

The gnocchi crew at work.

The gorgeous gnocchi.

Sauce with veggies from Brian's garden.

His own tomato sauce with tomatoes from his garden.

The delicious conclusion.

Salad in a bowl the size of a canoe.

Needless to say, we wrecked the food. It was absolutely an amazing experience to see Brian and Jeff working together. Besides the fact that they resemble each other so much, their passion for food is a kick!

Oh and there were people there too.

After everyone left and the house was quiet and covered in flour, we boiled what was left of Virgil and Amelia for chicken stock. :)

Viva festa Italiana!