STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — In my American Grill days, it occurred to me that motherhood and restaurant ownership did not really go together. In that kind of service position I felt that it was either the customers or a baby that needed my complete attention. I chose the latter.
Now about 15 years later as our two boys pick fights with each other and call each other things like “fatty pants” and “jerk” it seems like the right time to talk about the little angels that give Mommy so much joy — and agita. I can tell you, for instance, the exact time that the kids’ sibling rivalry started. Like being able to tell what ails a kid by the pitch of his wail — a mother knows.
Andrew, left, tickling his baby brother James' toes (Staten Island Advance/Jan Somma-Hammel)
When Andrew and his younger brother James were in diapers — they were about 23 months and 10 months respectively — Andrew loved this plastic, toy blender. He’d push the button so it whirred and whirred, would put stuff in it and shake it up. It was the centerpiece of his own pretend kitchen along the sash of our living room window.
One day, an increasingly mobile James decided he was going to flex his muscles and buzz the blender, too. He crawled to the window, pulled himself to his feet and whisked away the appliance from brother’s hands.
James plopped down to play and Andrew glanced around the room with his ears pricked like, “What just happened here?” When he saw his bro with the blender, Andrew picked it up and put it back in the window to go about his business. This routine went on, back and forth, a few more times until anger visibly creeped across Big Brother’s face and he shoved Little Brother’s face to the ground with a look along the lines of: “Take that, Maggot!”
Brotherly love: Andrew, left, and James Cavagnaro (Courtesy of Pamela Silvestri)
Since then, Andrew generally beats the drum while James comes along for the ride.
When Andrew was 4, for example, he kept asking over and over, “Mommy, what time does the toy store open?”
I repeatedly answered, “10 a.m.” and asked, “Why is this so important to you?”
He said, “Because James and I are going to go shopping there tomorrow.” To which, I thought, “Aww, cute. But yeah, right.”
So the next day I was in the Advance newsroom, then on the first floor of the building, and the owner of the former West Brighton toy store Boomerang called. She said before she pulled the shade up when opening the store she saw three pairs of tiny feet — the baby sitter’s included. Andrew went around the store and picked out a slew of fire trucks and appropriate items to stock a firehouse. (We were in our Fireman Sam stage.) He told Rosemarie, the owner, “I’ll be back later with my Grandpa.” She thought it was so funny she just let him go with it.
Well, mission accomplished at the neighborhood toy store so Andrew went on to other things with James riding shotgun on the journey.
Not too long after that, the sitter called me at work and was speaking in Spanish so quickly I got something about a “tienda de puerca” from the conversation. So I raced home and found Andrew and James sitting at a table with toy cash register. The contents of our fridge were for sale on the sidewalk. Andrew proudly showed off the $22 the pair had taken in. He explained they were playing “pork store.” It was an idea inspired by visits to our favorite butcher and friend, Bruno Pica, who owned Bruno’s A&S Pork Store in Port Richmond, now Italo’s.
But I’m grateful for the memories and advice from other mothers along the way.
“Little kids, little problems,” said my sage friend and neighbor, Kathleen.
“You’ll never have a good night’s sleep again,” my high school pal, Angela, told me with a fiendish look followed by wild laughter.
“The labor pains will be quickly forgotten once you see that beautiful baby!” cooed the lovely Lamaze coach at Richmond County Medical Center. Well, that’s not 100% correct on that pain part — and that’s coming from someone who had contractions for a good 20 hours.
This year, my older guy brought a plant home from school as a Mother’s Day gift. He left it in a neighbor’s car. But that’s OK because he’s remembered in the past. I have tucked away Mother’s Day notes of yesteryear with sweet sentiments and, mandatory in our house if meals are to continue, compliments on cooking. One from 2018 from James says, “Mom, you inforce [sic] the laws, that’s what makes you such a great mom!” He added, “Ya, you dall!” And that can be translated from an exaggerated New York accent James puts on as he taps my nose: “You, you’re a doll!” It cracks me up every time. Alright, I won’t harp on those labor pains anymore.
A Mother's Day note (Staten Island Advance/Pamela Silvestri)
Keep in touch.
Pamela Silvestri is Advance Food Editor. She can be reached at silvestri@siadvance.com.
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