Country walks

We've been out walking nearly every day of this little school break. It's been wonderful to have the time to explore with the kids, peeking under rocks and mushrooms, climbing on hills, collecting treasures. Yesterday we walked for nearly four hours, cut through a farmer's field and came out practically at our front door. The kids were so excited to find a secret path leading right to our house, but I was a little nervous about getting caught trespassing on mister grumpy farmer's property. I just kept humming "This land is your land" in my head and keeping my head low.

As I was walkin', I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no tress passin'
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing
Now that side was made for you and me.

I hope we aren't crazy for leaving behind our little slice of paradise. I'll be on a quest when we get to Shanghai to find the best park in the city. One where you can walk on the grass and sit under a tree, I would hope. If I remember correctly this was the most difficult part of expat life in Mexico for me.

It's rentrée time

a really pretty pre-fall morning, rentrée 2010

not yet aware that the parents don't stay the whole time

Last week as everyone in France knows it was La Rentrée which is a big BIG deal here because not only do the kids start school but all of the families come back from vacation and there's a huge electric buzz in the air. It's a festive time but it's a little stressful all at the same time, hard to explain really unless you experience it living here. It involves a lot of long winded conversations with even the most casual acquaintances always starting with "how was your vacation?" and then "wellllll..." yet at the same time you know, you're in a really big hurry every minute of every day preparing for La Rentrée and getting the school supply list going so you dash and run and try to plan to see people for coffee to catch up because "who has time!!"

little S's class, CP

For us it was a big year because Little S started CP (like first grade in the US) and Charlotte started her first year of Maternelle in Petite Section. Little S was stressed because he'd been told all the rules of the playground at the end the school year last year and he was sure they were going to be ripping his childhood to shreds "on a meme pas le doit de jouer a cache-cache!" I'm not sure how true that is that they can't play hide and seek but he seemed really bothered by the transition. I felt it too when I had to buy him red ballpoint pens and rulers. "Wow he's not even six yet..." When he got to school he was relaxed because of course he saw all his friends and they all looked a little scared too so it was okay after that. He still says he hates school though and I have a hard time biting my tongue not to say "me too!!" Charlotte was a bit more tricky of course since it's her first time in school. She cried for three hours straight her first day. Then her second day she cried for three more hours! "c'est normale--c'est l'adaptation," but it is hard to walk away when they're crying like that. She only goes for half days so I think she'll adjust. The morning goes by so fast and I think they'll make it fun for her.

in the courtyard at school, that's his teacher in the background, the stocky man in the beige coat

The two schools are about five minutes apart by car and the race to get the two at lunch is comical. I barely have time to say a word to Charlotte's teacher and woosh we're off running, keys in hand to get Little S who is basically standing on the sidewalk waiting for us--pushed out the door by his school! I guess you just develop a rhythm but for now I'm all off kilter trying to remember who goes where at what time and how to time it all.

worried, this was before we went inside his school--and charlotte with her dou-dou, Dixie

Seb left for China yesterday, another sort of rentrée and his first weeks at his new job should tell us a lot so I was kind of happy to have him go to see firsthand what the company is like. If it's crazy disorganized he'll just resign and we won't take the chance. We'll just stay in France. I think it should be okay though. I mean I hope so because we're pretty excited to go but at least we have a four month safety net just in case.

Down to business

Life has been speedy lately which is why I haven't had much time to blog. You know sometimes life just gets like that. I'd like to keep track of what's going on so even if I don't have time I still want to write it all on my blog even if it's scattered. I'm sorry if this makes no sense sometimes or it's boring.

Little S is seeing a kid psychiatrist in Paris and we've only had one session. She's really good and she's great with children. He opened right up to her which really surprised us because he's Clint Eastwood in front of most adults, strong and silent. He's never open with someone like that. I haven't written much about what's going on but a school psychologist suggested her and yes he does seem to have a problem but we aren't sure what it is yet so the search continues. I'm still hunting around for a private school and next month I'm visiting two of them, both Steiner schools. I like Steiner and I've been trying to read through his works for the past year now, emphasis on trying because some of it's heavy and my brain is a bit mushy after two kids. When we first started looking that's what I focused on, finding a Steiner school, that or a school based on Reggio Emilia which would be my number one choice. The only Steiner school near us is 45 minutes away and in Paris that can mean three hours if you hit a traffic jam, but I'm interested in seeing the school anyway just to compare it to others. It's one of the few that goes all the way through lycée.

I'm also job hunting, or I guess career hunting. I found a training I like that I've been thinking about for a while now. It keeps popping back up in my thoughts and in things I read. It's basically falling in my lap screaming "do this!". I've been trying to start other things but nothing feels right except this. This feels really right but the program sounds really difficult and I'm not sure if I'd get accepted. Right now it's all still in the planning stage so I won't talk too much about it because I'm superstitious like that.

I'm looking for a car too which is a little difficult because I haven't got a car to go see cars. Seb usually gets home late so we only have the weekend to look. I'm also waiting on the insurance money. I got a really good deal on my old car when I bought it and I lost a lot in the insurance adjustment. It seems prices have gone up since then which is really frustrating because I have less to work with. I'm eager to get wheels again though. I feel like an old mamie in a flowered housecoat who stays in with her cat all day. A funny thing is I have it in my head that I'll get a black car and I'm really set on that. I think it's my secret desire to be a spy and combat car theives. Either that or I'll be Knight Rider and have a car that can't be stolen!

The big news is that our window company is going out of business. The owner called us yesterday at 7am asking for money. We've left him over seventeen messages and he just suddenly decides to call us back out of the blue. Seb got angry and asked why he'd never called us until now and the guy said "listen I don't have any installers because my guys are being investigated for three different robberies so I've fired them..." Seb told him about our car being stolen and he acted surprised. I have no idea why he felt the need to tell us about his guys but I don't trust him. I'm pretty sure he was involved somehow in our theft because the car was obviously at the company warehouse for a while. Seb hung up and called the main branch of the window company who told us not to give them any money because they were no longer associated with them and the business is going under fast which is why he probably called us for money. He's desperate. We called the gendarmerie and told them "hey you know those guys we told you stole our car? Well you have a few files on them already (and if you'd done your job you'd probably know that!)" They said it was too late and that our case was already closed. Then we went to the police and filed a complaint against the window company and told them the whole story. The police were very nice and took our information starting from the beginning. The were really angry on our behalf for the way the gendarmerie treated our case. Evidently there's a big rivalry between the police and the gendarmerie. The police think the gendarmerie is completely incompetent, surprise, surprise. What a bunch of bumbling idiots. They'd told us after three visits that we were being pests and there were much more important cases for them than our stolen car. I'd always wondered why French people make fun of the gendarmerie and act so sarcastic with them. Each time we've called or talked to someone they seem really young, 20 years old or so, and they always have bad vocabulary. I remember one sympathetic gendarme girl telling Seb "mais putain oui, ça pue de la merde votre histoire la, franchement putain!" or roughly "yep that sounds like they're guilty, wow" but sprinkled with a truckdriver's vocabulary and not very evolved. They seem to be run by a bunch of teenagers, or at least in our precinct they are. The police were much sharper and now I have an official complaint filed against the company.

I feel a like I let the wolf play in the sheeps pen. I can't believe I was naieve enough to leave these con artists in my house alone at least a dozen times. One of the guys had such a sweet face and apparently he's the one who has the huge rap sheet. I really resent the idea that I can't trust anyone at face value anymore. I hate that feeling.

Have you seen her?

My car has gone missing. My very pretty, nearly new, low mileage, sport edition pretty, pretty car is gone. Poof, vanished.

She was last seen in my driveway at 4:45pm Tuesday as I unbuckled three kids and thought about bringing in the remaining Christmas gifts from the trunk and the Christmas box from my mom, "nooo, I'll get those later when I have a free hand." I locked her by remote and took the kids inside for a snack. Fifteen minutes later she was gone.

Call it women's intuition but my bones are rattling. I'm pretty sure that it's someone we've dealt with, maybe not them per se but maybe they served as a tipster. Someone who worked in the house. It doesn't seem possible that it's random. We live in the country, woods all around. We have two or three neighbors we pretty much know, wave to and get along with. It's not the city and our road is nearly all local traffic. It's not like I was parked in a public parking lot or anything. It was stolen in full daylight when the theif knew I'd be in the basement with the kids and couldn't see out very well, or knew that if I did look out I wouldn't see much from that angle. And there's the issue of my spare car key that "disappeared" from the house a few weeks ago. We blamed Charlotte for stashing it somewhere but now I'm not so sure. The only people who know all these things or had access to the key rack were the people who've been working in the house lately. Oh yeah and there's the day I even let the window installer move my car for me telling him "if I'm blocking you my keys are always RIGHT HERE" and I pointed to the key rack, DUH. We won't tell the insurance company about that.

I'm sad. I feel like I lost a close friend.

Gardening and in-laws

Yesterday was such a gorgeous day. I was in heaven outside in the garden, digging and cutting, trimming and clipping. I washed half of my front steps and about a third of my elevated terrace. At the end I stood back and admired everything. It all looked pretty much the same though! This property is going to take a lot of work to get in shape. No one has cared for it in over thirty five years. The family had someone come by and cut the grass once a month and trim some hedges but that was about it. We're left to start from scratch.

I'm debating whether to do my little potager this year or not. I still haven't decided. I really want to do it but there's so much work out there I think I'll be buried in weeds anyway. Maybe I'll just do some tomatoes and a zuchini plant. I'll definitely do an herb garden though. Last year in Mexico was my first year without an herb garden and I really missed it. And this year I have the climate, the soil and the room for it. I can actually garden in real soil and not just pots!

My in-laws are coming for one day in a few weeks and I really want to have things looking nice. The last time they saw the house was when we first moved in and had all the po's crap furniture in the house. They won't say anything anyway so I don't know why I care but I do. I just hope deep down inside somewhere they can appreciate our hard work,

...somewhere.

Sunday at Versailles

Versailles, I'd only been once when I was in my twenties. I breezed through and vaguely remember having done a quick tour of the gardens. Whatever, it was hot and crowded and I was far too hip to be a mouton and hang out with the rest of the students. I think I spent most of my time in town in a café with a friend who smoked and told me about her boyfriend. What an idiot I was (and in many other ways too...).

Life must have taken pity on me and so yesterday I got a second chance to see Versailles and I appreciated it SO much more. Not only am I smarter, I've read more books and know more about furniture now. I love gardening and history and France so much more now too. And I really want a crystal chandelier for my dining room, bathroom or bedroom (all three actually), so I was completely mesmerised the entire day because I was in an antique crystal lover's paradise.



It's nearly impossible to visit Versailles with kids under three because you can't bring a stroller in the site. You have to leave it at the coat check for the entire visit so it really only serves the purpose of helping you get through the parking lot. We didn't know this and ended up having to carry Charlotte the entire time. She's really heavy! Little S enjoyed parts of the visit, not all of them. He lasted a good four hours though and we played lots of games with him getting him to find invisible doors and telling him the king was still in his bed in his pyjamas "oops we just missed him!" He was really intrigued that the king might be living there and asked lots of questions about where he ate and what he did all day.

Seb sat down whenever there was a chance to and let me tour the room at my leisure while he played with Charlotte. The kids got their pictures taken a lot by asian tourists, and Seb got mobbed by hords of grandmothers and pretty girls all day. He didn't suffer all that much and a few people actually asked to hold her like the lady in this picture in the Hall of Mirrors.



At one point Charlotte freaked and I had to feed her in the corner of the billard room. It is the strangest place I've ever breastfed my kids. That would have been an odd moment to have a wrinkle in time.

The fun stuff

Here are some funny photos from our road trip.

"Oh wow, those cute guys are totally checking me out while I'm doing my workout!"

Take a car, any car thank-you-very-much.

"Please don't mount the lions." *snigger*

Another cherished mother daughter photo taken by Seb. Next time I'll ask someone like Pasta Guy to take our photo.

Impromptu mass exodous or what happens when the baby projectile vomits in the car.

It's the journey

I've been needing a vacation and Seb has to take some time off of work. It's kind of a forced vacation thing his company is trying on for size so they don't have to fire masses of loyal employees.

Rather than spend four days arguing over tiles in the house or the leak in the toilet that keeps coming back, we decided to hit the road. I love roadtrips. I hate those dvd players glued to the backseats of cars. Agh they make me crazy. Kids are supposed to ask "are we there yet?" a hundred times. It's a rite of passage. Yes roadtrips are where family memories are created.

To save money we waited until Seb had to take one of his trips to Toulouse. He had the choice of flying or driving but sweet, crazy husband chose driving seven hours with two kids and a wife this time rather than relaxing on an airplane 45 minutes. He's brave and he's wonderful. We based ourself in Toulouse for three days using Holiday Inn points (thanks to all that time in the hotel last year!) and then we used days off to drive around the Haute Garonne region. It's a beautiful region and I couldn't stop taking photos. I took well over 500 photos and then mooned over them the entire trip reviewing and reviewing in the car "ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh" until Seb made me put the camera away becaue he was so tired of hearing the click of the shutter and the oohing and ahhing.

I hope everyone gets to visit this part of France one day. You don't know France until you travel. It's so amazingly diverse that you can't just say "I like French people!" or "I don't like France." or make such sweeping generalisations because you can't imagine how different each corner of the hexagon can be from the other.

These are some of the photos in montage format because I couldn't possibly pick one or two photos. Click on the images to make them bigger.

We started out in Toulouse. Brick walls and light blue wrought iron. I loved the city! It was especially beautiful at night when I would run out to get our dinner while Seb babysat the kids.

We spent the second day in the medevial city of Carcassonne. I've always wanted to visit this city. It's like stepping back in time. We got to go in the winter when it isn't so busy and we really had the place pretty much to ourselves which is what you want in a place like this (so you don't feel like you're at Disneyworld).

After Carcasonne we decided to take a tour around the area and stumbled upon some nice trails. We took a walk which lead us to a windmill (apparently they get LOTS of wind in this region--windmills are everywhere). The forest was wonderful with pines and rocky terrain like a true mediterranean forest. At the top we had a great view and Little S loved seeing the windmill which reminded him of The Island of Sodor from his Thomas the Train books. We also went driving in the mountains nearby and saw snow which was funny because I didn't really think of this as a ski region but it is.

Finally we ended our third day at Rocamadour which is another famous medieval city that's apparently just as famous as Carcassonne (ask a French person--it's what Seb said but I'd never heard of it). It's main attraction is its history as a famous religious pilgrimage site. I think I liked Rocamadour even more than Carcassonne because it was smaller and more intimate and that's more my style. It wasn't quite as glossy as Carcassonne either and I liked that parts of it were crumbled and looked abandoned. That view approaching the city is just amazing, whew! It's well worth visiting a full day if you're in to medieval cities and churches.

We vowed to do more travelling as a family and more road trips. Most of our fun was in the crazy drive there and back.

Comments

There is a scene from one of my favorite movies Karol, where Thomasz the Polish priest is forced to eat dinner with Reichmeister Hans Frank and listen to him dispel the jewish populaton. You feel Thomasz agony at being forced to sit through the dinner and listen to these horrible insults, cringing at everything Hans Frank says. He becomes so frustrated at one point he even cries. If he tries to leave he will be shot but he knows he can't continue to listen much longer. Finally he can't take it any more and stands up screaming at everyone at the table. Then he walks out and you know he will die soon but he couldn't keep quiet. How could he?

On Saturday we went to a dinner. It was supposed to be a fun and relaxing night but there was a scene straight out of the movie. My food got stuck in my throat. I was uncomfortable. I was disappointed. I was irate. Finally I was simply bored because everything that the person said afterwards left me cold and I disinterested. I was eager to leave.

Later I was angry at myself for not having spoken up. I blame myself for being caught off guard but by not speaking up wasn't I agreeing? Did everyone else assume I agreed? I should have said something but I felt like Thomasz. I felt outnumbered. Seb said our silence spoke volumes but I still felt like we should have disagreed louder.

I really don't understand how people can continue to hate so much. This isn't the first time I've been confronted with racism in France. What is wrong with people that they can't see beyond their front door. Why are people so full of hate? What makes these people say such things out loud? Are they hoping to find people who agree with them? Do they read newspapers or books? I wonder if they do read regularly how can they make such sweeping observations?

***

The movie Karol: a Man who Became Pope is wonderful. The actors are stunning (and easy on the eyes, ahem) and the story of JP II's early life is completely captivating. This isn't the same film that was made for American tv a few years ago. This film is more philisophical than biographical and poses lots of interesting questions about violence and predjudices. It may be hard to find as a rental but it's good enough to add to your permanent dvd collection.

Btw this particular racist comment was directed towards women who wear a veil. Many of the racist comments you hear in France are directed towards the North African muslim community. I was thinking about this short film from Paris Je T'aime yesterday which is kind of silly (with really dumb dialogue or bad acting --can't decide which) but anyway it's still kind of cute.

Burning wood

The night before last when I climbed the stairs and reached the landing I looked out Little S's window and thought, "more crazy neighbor burning wood--now we'll have to deal with all the smoke smell." But it wasn't a fire it was the sunset. I dropped Little S's pyjamas and ran for my camera. I started shooting, adjusting, and cropping out things like my dirty windows and the neighbors car. But it was so beautiful in person that I suddenly realized I wasn't going to capture what I was seeing and I was missing the moment.

So we sat there and watched it for about five minutes together.

The French countryside outside of Paris is magical. We are sure there are fairies and elves in the stretch of forest behind our house. There are traces of them everywhere. Every day we see magic, --footprints in the snow, foxes crossing the icy road, pheasants strutting into a delve and deer posing by the bend just before the rondpoint that leads to the Paris autoroute. I am so pleased with our little house in the country and all of the contact we have with animals and nature.

And the sunsets are amazing.

Hier soir

Bits of our evening as the sky outside turned a lovely shade of purpley blue and yet my camera wouldn't focus on the trees. I got really frustrated with it. It was Charlotte's bath night--they take turns. Little S was mad because he wanted to take a bath too so he crashed cars on the floor making lots of commotion and threatened to put his car in the bath. All the while I made papillotes of vegetables and cut up chicken for grilling in a honey-soy-ginger sauce. It wasn't anything special but it was one of those evenings where the camera was on the table and I kept picking it up.

I'm glad I do this sometimes. It's important to take pictures of nothing special.

Baptising a baby

My lovely husband is back from his business trip, loaded down with teapots and teas for me. I think I'm going to have a lot of teapots at the end of all of this. Each time he has a company in China to visit they offer him a gift of a teapot or tea. He ended up with three teapots this trip. I'm not complaining though. I think I'm just going to have to put the brakes on my own teapot buying obsession.



The morning after Seb got back we had to race off to a baptism in Normandy where Seb was the parrain. The papa is Seb's best friend from his school days so it was very sweet to see that they both have girls less than one year apart. The family is Portuguese and the atmosphere was lively and fun with me and Seb probably being the only non-Portuguese people in the whole room of 40 people. Everyone kept asking me if I was Portuguese too and I thought that was funny and also a nice compliment because the woman are so pretty. I have a Spanish great, great grandmother who I look a lot like and I did feel like I might have fit right into the family.


What struck me the most about our evening was realizing that Seb spent all of his young adult life with the family and a few summers in Portugal with them. The family is the complete polar opposite of his own family and I think I understand now why he gravitated towards them. It was such a relaxing environment and everyone was so friendly. You didn't feel the tension that you feel in his parent's house. It was the same sort of 40 person sit down dinner that I've had with my in-laws dozens of times but it was lighthearted and everyone was interested in me and the kids. It wasn't dreadful and tense but lots of fun. I can see that reality for me is maybe a bit skewed. I think I just have a really strange belle famille.




This whole evening also reminded me that we have to arrange Charlotte's baptism. I don't think we'll do anything on such a grand scale but maybe a small gathering of ten or twelve people. Another baptism in the middle of major renovations? Why the heck not.

Weak coffee

Brewing my coffee in our cheap leftover coffee machine this morning made me flash back to something.

It was about nine years ago and I was at one of my first teaching jobs, a language school. I had to make coffee for my student, an astute businessman type. I wasn't familiar with the coffee machine at all and it wasn't a single serve machine but a machine with filters and a huge capacity. I hadn't used a Mr. Coffee style machine very often because in my world I made coffee in a press. I was having coffee issues at the time in fact because my new French boyfriend bought I thought the worst coffee in the supermarket. He made coffee like my grandmother did and he often reheated it in a saucepan, horrible! In the States I had always ordered my very expensive coffee beans from a snobby little coffee store in Atlanta who shipped them to my door. They were so wonderful that you could bite them and they would shatter in your mouth, a sure sign of freshness. I had a fancy little grinder that I used to grind my beans before running through my press each morning using a three minute egg timer. I don't think I had ever made coffee in a machine before that day.

I left the coffee to brew and went in to chat with my student. Not much time later my French boss came in with a furrowed brow. "I'm so sorry Olivier! It seems Christine has made you some sort of American coffee" ::rolls her eyes:: and I'll have to remake some French coffee. You know the American like their coffee to be practically like water." They both laughed and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I felt really stupid but I couldn't defend myself in front of my new boss. I had just been culturally stereotyped again. It was something I would have to get used to so it was a good lesson, particularly coming from someone as sharp as my boss.

It is almost banal to be stereotyped nowadays. It happens so often my skin has grown thick. I am the bad cook, the McDonald's fanatic, the fatty, the ketchup lover, the war monger, the person with the expensive-oversized car, the hypochondriac and the consumer. I have no family traditions and work for the almighty dollar to the point where there is nothing left of my family but outings to buy bulk supplies of food at warehouses and maybe a dvd or two. I have a bad diet and I feed my kids hot dogs and frozen pizza at every meal. My kids watch cartoons all day long and never go outside. These are actual conversations I have had with French people.

It is hard to not get defensive. We have a new family doctor who I genuinely like. After telling her where my accent was from two different times I think she has forgotten I was American (she has a leetle memory problem I've discovered) and now for some reason she thinks I'm Mexican. She went on and on about how the Americans have wrecked the French diet and corrupted the entire country. You'd have thought those long lines at McDonalds were a conspiracy by the American government promising warm baguettes and rich camembert to lure them in only to find they'd been duped and couldn't escape. The funny thing was that when she thought I was Mexican she gave me the third world sympathy treatment which was totally new to me. It was completely new territory. Suddenly I wasn't causing the ills of the world but I was a victim of it. It was kind of interesting to be on the other side of another stereotype for once

It's kind of nice to be an American these days. Americans in the states you owe all of your American expat friends a big hug for being forced to suffer through the Bush years as we have. It hasn't been easy. I have been the ambassador for the politically sane, assuring the French that when I was in the US there were indeed people who didn't vote for this man. That the Bush years would pass and people would land on their feet again. That I wasn't taught to bring my guns to school.

French t.v. enjoys this stereotype very much and they play with it in such a way that it makes the French believe that this is the majority of the US population. They never use the intelligent interviews but take great delight in interviewing the stupidest person in a crowd of Americans and using that interview. The only documentaries I have seen about the states have been ones on the overcrowded prisons, inner city violence, gross obesity, and radically independent conservatives living in the woods within their own communes. I know my French family here watches a lot of this t.v. because I often get into conversations with my father in law about how he saw a documentary on the US ...and then I know it will be one of those conversations where I will have to get defensive and assure him that the America I come from is not that America. That perhaps government funded t.v. is not the best place to source out your cultural leanings.

I am used to all of this by now. I don't even flinch when someone says something incredibly inapproriate. But let me just say that--

Some of the best meals I've ever eaten have been at the homes of my American expat friends. I was actually served frozen food once at a French person's house where she pulled the boxes out of the freezer and asked us to choose. And I've been served frozen peas and sliced ham once at a French meal. Most Americans who live here try very hard to learn French cooking because it's a challenge and Americans love challenges.

The lines are long at McDonalds in France. French people adore McDonalds.

My doctor is obese so it's funny that she has this speech about Americans. Certain members of my extended family are too. I always laugh to myself when they go off on their Americans are obese speeches while gorging on a second helping of cheese.

My nieces and nephews watch far more t.v. than Little S does and know more t.v. characters than he does. He's the last person to know who's who in the kid's aisle. He's much more aware of quality and materials than labeling on toys. We try to teach him to appreciate wood toys and using his imagination more. We buy him far less toys.

I'm not sure what stereotypes I'm victim of with the French. I am really aware of stereotyping and try very hard not to do it. Seb gets a bit of it when we go to the US but I think the Americans have a much more lighthearted version of it than the French do. I know it happens on both sides but I think it must be just a tad easier being the French in America than being the American in France.

Being a big girl

And the cold lingers.

Everyone has this awful cold and it just stays and stays. Just when we seem to get better it comes back. The doctor has put the kids on antibiotics and about three other medicines and I've become the medicine woman in the morning and night trying to convince them to take everything--dancing around like a clown, a marrionette--whatever it takes. It takes a lot of effort to get two kids to take six different medicines twice a day let me tell you.

I think this will be a very long two weeks with Seb gone. He's going to be taking this trip about every six weeks and in between that he has other little trips. His new job sends him all over the place and we knew this when we were asked to come back to France that he'd be traveling a lot.

I started to realize just what this means yesterday when my little car wouldn't start. It's a nearly new car so it was a shock to me when it wouldn't turn over. I checked the gas guage, fine. It was pouring down rain and I was in the next town trying to get medicine from the pharmacy and had about ten minutes to get Little S at school. I freaked out and looked under the hood. I got back in and tried again. Finally it turned over, whew! I was in a real panic. I realized in that moment that I had no one to call to rescue me or Little S. I could have called a taxi of course but I had just come from our new bank where they told me I couldn't have any checks . I'd written one the day before to pay for Little S's school photos and was surprised that it was the last one. Seb travels with our one credit card* and I had, I thought no money. Later I discovered my little used instant money card in my wallet so I was lucky. I could use it in bank machines. We really are going to have to have a better money plan for when Seb travels. I am relying on checks which normally works well but in a pinch I need a backup plan. I also have to meet a mom at S's school because if I can't get him like yesterday I really need a friend as a backup if my car won't start or something happens like yesterday.

French moms are really hard to get to know. It can take years of seeing them every day before they will say hello. I definitely have to stop speaking English to Little S near the school because I think this is just making it worse. I'm going to make it a point to figure out how to accost one of these mothers!

I haven't heard a thing from my pil's. We called them on Charlotte's birthday but fil was pretty angry and all I heard from my end was Seb getting defensive--"no she didn't say that ....she was just trying to say....no papa.... no she meant..." and finally Seb just said "will you just talk to her if you have something to say!" So evidently they have a lot to say but fil refused to talk with me. I can't talk to them face to face about things so over the telephone would probably even be worse. I was hoping though that they might call while Seb was gone and offer up an olive branch. They only ever call on Sundays so they have one more Sunday left.

When I had my argument with them one of my points was that I felt very distanced from them. With Seb travelling I needed to feel I had family to count on. I'm alone in France with two kids. They are my family. Of course I just wanted a verbal assurance that they cared enough to worry about us if things go wrong. Mil turned stoney faced and said "mais vous ete une grande fille...vous avez pas besoin de nous pour gérer ta vie!" (you're a big girl...you don't need us to manage your life!). True I don't need them to come and start my car but I need them to take a loving interest in me and to be there if I did need them to come no matter how trivial. It was a great comfort to me to know that in Mexico my parents and family would have dropped everything and taken the next plane if I had any problems and needed them. I don't have that same comfort here and yet they live less than three hours away. They will come if and when it fits their vacation schedule but they would never just come spontaneously because we had a problem. I find that really difficult.

I didn't mean this to turn into a pil rant but yesterday I was really feeling the need to just have a family around just in case. Sick, sick kids, car problems, money issues-- those are the times when you just need a call from your family to assure you that if things go really wrong they'll be there. I guess I have to gérer ma vie better like a big girl but I think even big girls need a safety net, right?

* French banks charge a fortune for bank cards and if you want two you have to pay those fees twice. For the life of me I can't figure why Seb's company doesn't give him an expense account. They are a major corporation and yet he has to use his personal bank card when he travels and then get reimbursed over months. Our account is always in the red for weeks at a time because of this. This is common to nearly all French companies though, not just his. I guess they don't trust people to not abuse a corporate expense account. Isn't that nuts?

Wednesdays

Seb is gone for two long weeks on a business trip and I'm here with the recovering kiddies. Charlotte still has bright red cheeks and looks like a little tomato with her fluctuating temperature going up and down from 36 to 40 like a stock market profile. It's always awful when a baby is sick because they just seems so helpless and pathetic. The other day we found a nice doctor that we all really liked and she explained to us that it isn't flu season yet (we have that to look forward to!) and that the kids are suffering from a simple ear/nose and throat infection. This is their second round of this same infection and I'm willing to try just about anything to get them well including antibiotics which she prescribed for Little S. Normally we don't do the antibiotic thing but this time I'm really desperate!

With me being alone for the next two weeks it has really hit me how much we need a change of pace. The thought of Seb gone and me being here alone threw me into a panic for two full days. It's nothing to do with being alone because I lived in Mexico for two months alone with the kids and that wasn't such a big deal. It has more to do with being tied to staying in this small town for two weeks and not knowing any adults. In Mexico I had friends but here it is really....quiet. I think I need to get a new routine. Developing this routine is going to be my new goal.

If you live in France you know all about Wednesday activities for kids but if you don't I'll explain. Almost all school age children have Wednesdays off here and it's on this day that most kids have an activity or two or sometimes even three! that they do. Many working mothers in France have Wednesdays off from their jobs and basically all they do all day is shuttle around the kids. In an effort to get Little S integrated I signed him up for Wednesday judo class. I was really excited because it was right here in our small town and there were in fact lots of fun activities for him here in small town. But I'm thinking of yanking him out for two reasons. One is that he's not that into it and he seems a little lost in his own world. In fact the judo prof's grandson has been assigned to constantly supervise Little S so that he gets his legs in the right position or any position for that matter because he just sort of stands there staring off in space blocking all the other kids. It's more of that kind of stuff that I just hope he outgrows eventually. Anyway, that's a big reason but it's also for a selfish reason. I'm trapped in small town all week and it's driving me nuts!

My newest idea is something I wish I' thought of before I signed him up for this class. It's to get him into some art appreciation classes at some of the museums in Paris. I like this idea because this will allow us to escape get out. I think this is more for me than for anything but I think it will help Little S a lot because he seems to get engaged in activities when they involve art. Seb is a little upset because with his upraising "you always finish what you start...blah, blah, blah" but I was raised with a sort of "hey you quit something when it annoys you because it only makes you deeply unhappy in the long run" You only have to spend 10 minutes with both sides of our families to see the good and ill of both philosophies.

So my plan is to take the Wednesday morning train and have him take an afternoon museum class if one is available. Then we can have gouter in a little cafe somewhere. Sometimes we can even have lunch. I also want to get my old digital camera fixed or else get him his own digital camera to take to the city. I think it will be really fun for us to take pictures together. I know he'll love this especially if we print them and make a project album out of his best photos.

Doesn't this sound like fun?

Here are a few of Little S's pictures. He takes so many with my point and shoot that I actually have to hide it from him because he's obsessed with it. He gets very excited when he see his photos and he actually recognizes them when I run across them on the computer. I think that's funny that he knows his own work from all the way across the room!


That's Seb and our cat Milly during our time that we were traveling with her. She was in the Sherpa Bag a lot of the time between the house and the hotel, slightly p*ssed off

Dad's reflection on a rainy car

His foot and a found gold ball in the new house--we live near a golf course so we find lots of balls

He has millions of photos --all very clever. He sees things we don't ever see. Make sure to give your kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews the camera as much as you can. You will learn so much about your world through their eyes if you do!

Our franglais famille

It's group blogging day for bloggers in bilingual relationships or with bilingual families. I probably should have mentioned this earlier but it's not to late. You can still post until midnight tonight! Just link your post to Fned's Blog when you do and she is going to link them all for some fun reading.

When Seb and I first met we spoke entirely in English for the first few years. I had no French at all because I was really just traveling through Europe and wasn't this francophile at all. France was just a pit stop.

After we met I started French from scratch with textbooks and CNED the French distance learning program, trying to learn on my own. We always tried to start speaking in French but it never worked because I never had enough vocabulary to get anywhere in the early days. We only spoke in French when we went places, --friend's homes for dinner, the in-laws and restaurants. Speaking French with Seb felt like acting. It still kind of does.

A few years ago when Little S was born we started speaking to him in our own languages, me in English and Seb in French. This made a peculiar thing happen because Seb started using French at home again. He now speaks in French a lot of the time at home and I speak English and we address each other in our respective mother tongues. We turn this feature off when we travel though and we use English. If we have friends for dinner in French we speak French to each other. This often carries on for a few hours afterwards. We got stuck in French after my argument with the in-laws and I found myself pouring out my heart to Seb on the way home in French because the argument with them had of course been in French.

Little S addresses each of us in our respective languages and he often tells me funny things like, "in French we say eau for water" or "in French we say chien" I wonder sometimes if he even thinks I know how to speak French because he always seems to be trying to teach it to me! Really though I think he's got the a-ha syndrome of suddenly realizing there are two languages. I do try to speak French to him if we are outside of the house with French people. The other day when his friend Thibaut came for a visit we spoke entirely in French all day. Little S ignored me a lot and gave me lots of sideways glances though when I told him what to do in French. It still feels strange to him when I address him in French, especially after our year in Mexico where the house went almost 90 percent English and at least 10 percent Spanish.

Little S speaks to his sister in French a lot of the time if they are one on one. Like I'll hear him explaining things to her and I'll be in the next room. I find this weird since I just kind of assume that English is his primary language. Maybe it's because he's trying to show her things and his teachers are French so he's teaching her in French.

It's fascinating living in a bilingual household but to be honest we don't really think about what languages we're speaking anymore. We just sort of use what works in that moment. And there is a lot of mixing.

What about you? Have you ever been in a bilingual household?

The wall

I had forgotten something last time my in laws were here. I forgot that they had seen the house the weekend after we first signed on it and that they had seen it in all it's glory, piled with furniture and buried in grime. I completely forgot that until well into their visit last week and it was probably a good thing. Mother in laws sour face and folded arms, her reaction to the kitchen and the plaster job on the walls and father in laws refusal to even leave the living room would have caused the explosion to happen a lot earlier. It was long in coming.

But back to the house. We have carried this house from looking like a dingy thrift store in a bad part of town to a near palace in comparison to what it was. Since they last saw the house we removed all of the flower wallpaper, replastered the front bedroom, nearly removed all of the green latex paint from the fireplace, thrown out massive amounts of broken furniture dusty curtains and piles of garbage, cleaned the floors everywhere with a toothbrush, polished all of the windows, sanded and oiled all of the dining room furniture , and of course the kitchen is a complete transformation if you saw the before. Bref, you could not have seen the before and then see the after without comment unless you were blind, crazy or my in-laws. I let it slide and said goodbye to Little S.

I am not proud of exploding at my in-laws on Saturday and I really hate confrontations but what I hate even more is keeping things bottled up. I have been finding it hard to be around them and have all this verbal muck piling up in my throat. So many little incidents and then a big one. I should not have lost my temper because I know that there are people who don't see themselves and the way they are. They can't stand back and put themselves in another person's shoes for a minute because their perspective is the only perspective--the right perspective. I'm tired of being surrounded by close minded people and I had to push the cover off the manhole and let a little light and fresh air into the relationship. If the relationship is broken I am willing to deal with that because the way it was going my relations with them were becoming impossible.

I don't really want to rehash the details of the breaking point but it had to do with the birthday of Little S. Poor Little S who had planned a Saturday birthday in the yard of the new house and had to have his birthday party plans changed three times to accommodate others, only to have it completely canceled in the end. I explained to him that next year he could have a birthday party with friends because he would know more people at school but I know he was disappointed because we'd talked about it for so long--since leaving Mexico. He really wanted his cousins there. This is why I was livid to see that they had thrown their own birthday party for him at his aunt's house on Wednesday with presents and a cake and candles. And I found this out because they showed me the picture of him blowing out candles with his cousins and had framed the photo as if it were his real birthday. I was livid and everything fell apart, and all the anger came spilling out. I tried to keep my cool but when something affects my family I can't keep my anger bottled it's like a volcano.

Little S still thinks the birthday was a second celebration of his cousins birthday, normal since we'd been there three weeks before to celebrate it. He was pretty confused about the whole thing which isn't surprising.

Mother-in-law screamed a lot at me and told me what she thought of me, stuff going way back. She told me I forgot her birthday all too often and mother's day and I could not make her understand that I was not talking about us --grown-ups and big people, I was talking about them...the children.

It was an awful day. I find talking to my in laws like talking to a brick wall with a very small hole. They let a little bit of what I say trickle through the hole and then the rest is all blocked by the wall. It is so incredibly hard to reason with them. I only lost my temper for five minutes but the rest was all trying to get them to understand that I felt left out of their world. They couldn't see that it was not okay to hold birthdays for my kids several weeks later without us because it's inconvenient to come for the real birthday party. That it wasn't okay to take your own version of the birthday photos and stick them on the wall. The only thing trickling through the hole in the wall was "the difficult american daughter in law who's ungrateful for us spoiling our grandchild..." or as mother in law mentioned "in my day we didn't even celebrate birthdays"

We left things civil and ate our lunch. My in-laws were stiffer than ever as we kissed goodbye. I had the feeling that instead of trying to crash through the barrier of my icy relations with them I had only built another wall, higher and stronger than the other. It was an awful feeling.

Stealing my guy

he's really into Legos...little Legos are his newest passion...the pieces are really tiny

Oh dear the in-laws are coming today to fetch Little S so that he can spend a few days with them in Normandy. I totally forgot that it was today and was thinking it was Wednesday, oops. I have to make them lunch and of course clean and with us all being sick the house is a wreck and I certainly don't feel like making lunch. I'm also feeling a little out of sorts about it all but I've been trying to not worry. I guess I do coddle him too much but he is only four years old and they live three hours away. If something goes wrong and he gets ill or something it just feels like I'm really far away. I'm really possessive of my kids!

I 'm packing his little suitcase being mindful of mother in law. She has the forgetfulness thing and I know that at least a few things will get lost while he's there, especially because Little S will be with his cousins a lot, so I'm putting his name on everything. Each time she watches Little S things get lost,...socks, shoes, toys. She always denies it and says "oh maybe you just thought you gave it to me" which really bugs me. I wish she would just say "I'm sorry you're right...I'm forgetful." If she admitted it I wouldn't mind as much. I can't get too mad because she does take good care of him otherwise and she's often helping us out, but it's gotten to the point where I am writing his name on everything when he goes with them. There's no question of him taking favorite toys or books to their house because I can't trust her to keep an eye on them. Once when she visited us she asked if she could drop him off for his gym class in town and she lost his new Gap jean coat. She came back with a completely different jean coat for an eight year old that was covered in flowers and glitter! I said "sorry that's not his" and she got all snarky about it and said "sorry but that's the one he had on!" The next week I took the coat over to the girl's gym class and a little girl ran up and said "you have my jean coat!" Like I said we will label everything and I'll give her a list. Hopefully that will help serve as proof that I did give her these things or help flip the switch in her memory bank.

So for the rest of the week it will be just me and my girl. I think we might try going to Paris for the day on Thursday or Friday so I can buy a pair of jeans. I seem to have lost some weight lately (no idea how much) and I only have two pairs of pants to wear and both are falling down. It will also be nice to get out!! and see a big city and some life. I think living in the country is nice and don't get me wrong I prefer it but I need some city time every once in a while.

Wacky doctor

We all have the cold that seems to be making its tour of France and we all feel pretty miserable. Little S barely wants to eat anything and last night he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and the next minute he was decorating my nice, clean floors with his dinner. It was so sudden and dramatic that it shocked me. I just sat there shouting for Seb to come quickly and he was mad at me when he saw it was just vomit. I guess I don't do kids vomit well.

Over a week ago we saw a doctor chosen randomly from the phone book and we all went together. The office was in the doctors house which is something I always find weird in France. I guess as an American we long ago made the distinct separation from the doctor and his personal life, probably why medicine is so dehumanized in the US, but it's my world where I'm used to going to a large clinic with maybe three doctors and a few of nurses buzzing about. In France I usually try to find a doctor who resembles this world by choosing a doctor in practice with another doctor, in a medical center and in a clean, modern office. I usually like it if there's a secretary too because I don't like having to sit there while doctor answers his own phone and gives his advice to another patient while I wait there and have to listen. It feels invasive to hear someone else's medical problems discussed in front of me. After that I try to find the doctors who don't dole out antibiotics too readily and lean towards a homeopathic mentality. I always have a hard time switching doctors in France when we move because of all my picky criteria, which is why when we entered this doctor's office or err, house I was completely shocked. There were papers all over his desk stacked a foot high. His floor had mud tracks and dust balls piled high in the corners, his chairs were dirty and ripped and he actually had to look on the floor in a pile of old computer wires for his stethoscope. I was ready to walk out but I couldn't think of a reason. He was a nice enough guy but I was completely shocked. There were things everywhere, old computers from 15 years ago, boxes of medical supplies covered in dust, medical equipment with screws missing taken apart on the floor. I couldn't believe he could stay in practice.

When we left I said to myself, he must not have any patients but on leaving there were two people waiting in his makeshift lobby and they looked, well...normal. I felt like I fell into a wacky sort of vortex. It's the worst doctor experience I've ever had in France. The doctor didn't even take anyone's temperature (in this case, thankfully I suppose), didn't wash his hands before examining Little S and didn't have any paper covering the exam table. I was completely shocked because my doctor in Th*n*n always makes great show of washing his hands before examining us. What was up with this guy?

I was taken back to my French family who was so worried about us being in Mexico and finding good doctors. Lots of people in fact seemed overly concerned about the care we would receive in this "third world country" we were running off to. The doctors we saw in Mexico even put the most pristine American doctors offices to shame. They were a little too medical for my tastes but I never saw dust balls under the exam table and they washed their hands or wore gloves when they examined us.

This has happened to me once or twice in France, the wacky doctor thing. I'm not a germ crazy American or anti-French. I'm eternally grateful for my medical care but I just wonder if the medical community in France doesn't need a little regulating from time to time.

Antique linens

Saturday afternoon I stole off with the car full of deliveries for the local thrift store and also with a secret agenda. The Catholic relief thrift store was having its antique linen sale and I was really curious what they would have. I have started getting interested in antique linens slowly over the years and I always seem to gravitate towards them at the brocantes and antique stores in France, so I was curious to see a huge sale like this with thousands of pieces. Think white sale but from the 19th century!

I didn't buy much just perused and took notes for future purchases. I need to learn a little more before I start buying because these linens are such an investment, but I am excited by the prospect of what I can do with them and how I can use them in my home and in my decorating. There were also lots of notions--old lace collars, parts of clothing, buttons and antique scraps for sewing projects.

The sheets, and there were hundreds of them, were like most antique linens I've seen. They are nearly always this white, heavy linen and many of them are from the 1930's and 40's. The "not so old ones" in other words those mid century ones, were in the range of 20 - 65 euros depending on their condition. Many in the 20 euro range probably had fold marks or some slight yellowing. Sheets much older than this ran into 100's of euros and one or two or more were even priced at 300 euros or more. They were very old, from the mid 19th century and in very good condition with beautiful monograms. There was so much to look at that I got a giddy feeling in my stomach. Many pieces I just wanted to touch and hold and the delightful part of all of this sale was that I could do this easily whereas most French brocantes keep a watchful eye on customers and you get the evil eye if you pick up delicate linens. Here I could touch and examine. I love to touch old things!

In our old house here I found two old linen sheets tucked up in an armoire, probably from the late 40's. They are not in the best of condition but I will keep them for making pillows out of. What French grandmother doesn't have an armoire full of them bought for her trousseau when she was first married? Seb's mother has at least 25 of them neatly stacked and ironed in hers, all inherited from her mother. When I asked her why she didn't use them, and dropped some heavy hints that I would if she was feeling the need to do some Spring cleaning, she said "Oh, all that heavy linen. They take too long to iron." She's right. They are difficult to iron but when I buy mine I will not iron them. I'll just iron the part that shows at the top where it will be folded down. If you line dry them and fold them quickly enough there is no need to iron them. Mother in law would never be happy to use hers and not iron them. It isn't in her genetic makeup to put something unironed on a bed.

I didn't buy much. I only bought a small lace trimmed pillowcase and a few things in the baby/children's clothes section of the sale (not all of the baby clothes were antiques but they had set aside pieces which had a timeless look, lace details or suggested the 19th century--fun to browse through). I have plans to dress my bed with some lovely, white monogrammed sheets and a beautiful lace coverlet. I would love to toss one of those gorgeous lace trimmed tablecloths on my table and I will save my centimes carefully over the next year for this (between 60 - 150 euros usually with the matching napkins), and I'd also like to make a slipcover for one of my chairs out of an old 20 euro sheet or two. There are so many possibilities of what you can do with these things!

The sale happens quite often and the store is lost in the country here near Paris but it's only five minutes from my house so I'll be going back. Want to come along next time?