Lazy Girl's Blog

Three and a half

2012-02-11T16:43:00.001+01:00

It seems like just yesterday I was writing about Juliette hitting the eighteen month mark. And look at her now! As a parent, you just can't say it enough: time goes fast. Too fast.

Her three and a half year-old self can be very delightful. Last night we spent about half an hour asking each other back and forth if the other had eaten such and such non-food, like towels, paper, telephones. She loved answering, no, that's disgusting! Such small things can make a pre-schooler happy. I love it when I say good night to her and she keeps rattling on about things she's done that day. I look down and see her animated face talking about things semi-coherently and I still marvel that we now carry on fairly normal conversations.

School has made her more chatty in French, that's for sure. When she plays with her dinette set she'll speak in French like the cafeteria ladies, offering us more sauce or water. She also goes into French mode when she talks to her baby dolls, and this is no doubt because she's imitating the day care workers for her Wednesday day care. And at school she already has her little beau, whom we'll just call M. I swear she does that little shy eyes, turning coyly on her feet thing when she says goodbye to him at the end of the school day. But apparently little boy A is also her good friend and a boy in the class above her has declared she is his "amoureuse" or girlfriend. Things are complicated in pre-school.

She's starting to pronounce the "h" like a pro now. About a year ago she'd say, that's MameeLin's "'ouse" but now she can say "house". I think it's practicing saying "yo ho ho" from Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Thank goodness we can get some of the Disney cartoons in English with our Internet TV. Handy Manny, The Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and the pirate kids are part of her (and our) Saturday and Sunday morning routine.

Yes, she's a bit of a tv junkie, and I wish she weren't so addicted at times. She doesn't watch it all the time, and we try to do some non-TV things like painting (which she really loves) or coloring or blocks together everyday. But she'll often ask to watch her Strawberry Shortcake dvd in the evening. And I often say yes and get dinner started while she watches that and plays at the same time.

The budding artist.

It's amazing how much she's starting to understand and yet what still eludes her. We saw a homeless man teetering dangerously close to the canal the other day and the firemen were trying to get him to come with them. It's been sub-freezing for two weeks now, I should mention. I explained to Juliette that they were going to take him to a warm place and give him soup and a bed. She repeated that but made sure to add he wasn't coming to our house. Then later she said maybe the man was sad because he wanted his mommy. I wondered if there was some truth to what she said.

She loves her books that are from the Juliette series, about a pre-schooler with an uncanny resemblance to our little girl. Currently she's obsessed with the one where Juliette (the character) is a bad girl and has to go to the corner. Juliette (mine) can "read" the book pretty much by herself because she's memorized the actions. She also likes nursery rhymes and songs and as always, Elmo!

Tantrums do still happen and they can be doozies. How many times these past two weeks has she wanted to go the park on the way home and I've had to say no, 'cause it was freezing. She can go balistic on me at times like this. Or when I dare to mix her paint for her on the plate and she wanted to do it. Sharing is still not her thing.

And for the Juju fans, here she is chatting and singing a variety of tunes...p.s. I love how she says she's doing "stuff" at the beginning of the video.

So this school year of mine has made me less available for my Juju, but I'm still enjoying seeing how she grows from three to four years old. And trying to hang on to every sweet moment, of course!

My favorite things

2012-01-31T17:08:00.014+01:00

Ever notice how you get a warm feeling just talking about the things you like? It's an affirmation of yourself, too. I like, therefore I am. So make your own list and think it over when you're feeling blue (à la the song "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music). Turn over those objects mentally in your head for a little boost.

So here's my list, non-exhaustive, mind you...

Tea parties and all that goes with them.

And while we're on the subject of tea, I do love my delicate tea cups I bought in Bruges years ago that are such a warm burnt orange and rimmed with gold.

Muscari or grape hyacinth flowers. Adorably elegant with those little blue flowers.

Girlfriends! Need I say more? Here you see Caro, Marine and Karine, dear work pals.

My lime green dish-washing gloves. They make me feel invincible when I plunge into grimy water. Washing dishes is a little more bearable with these babies.

Winter days that give you hope that there will be sun around the corner. Or that give you an excuse to stay inside and be cozy.

Picking up my muffin from school at the official end of the school day. I can do that for the next few weeks because my hours at the internship are shorter than when I'm in class.

I could go on, but maybe I'll save that for another post. In the meantime, I think I'll spread the joy of favorite things by tagging Crystal, Amber and Jessamyn to make their own lists, if they so desire. And, you, dear readers, I'd love to hear what's on your list, too.

Life is about tests

2012-01-21T15:36:00.004+01:00

(... in the style of a Meredith Grey voiceover*.)

Sometimes (pregnant pause), life is about tests.

There are the tests you know you are taking, that you can prepare for. These last two weeks I had quite a few of those. In statistics, micro and cell biology, and environmental management. They are tests in the literal sense of the word. They evoke cramming and late nights or early mornings and stress. And relief when they are finished. Afterwards you get a grade that makes you smile or wince and has some kind of effect on your future. Or not. Or not as much as you thought, when you look back years later.

Then there are tests we all take, students or not, every day. But they are trickier because in fact they aren't official and there's no one egging you on to do well. Except yourself, or your conscience. Like driving. Do I switch gears now, do I let that other driver in, do I proceed into the intersection now or a few seconds later? A multitude of small decisions that may seem small but could have major, lasting effects on our lives and those of others. Who's to say these "tests" aren't more important than the written ones that we make notecards for? They are, in fact, more important. But we don't always see it that way at the time.

And even more subtle but perhaps the trickiest of all are those moments when others test us- test our conscience or patience. Like when Juliette woke up way too early from her nap on an afternoon when I really needed to study for an official test. And I found myself getting irritated despite my efforts to smile and be sweet and cuddly to her while she rotated around my study corner. We are tested, we are pushed, and we must rise above our irritation and prioritize (child over homework). And sometimes we fail and we grumble and rumble and we regret it. And we hope we'll do better next time.

Maybe the real test in life is just that: deciding which tests are really important to pass and which ones we can forget about. And that's something you won't learn in any school book.

*As far as TV voiceovers go, Grey's Anatomy is not so bad. Slightly sappy but rather insightful. It comes in number two on my official voiceover ranking.

Desperate Housewives gets third place. I always feel like I'm having a children's book read to me. Enough already with the heavily emphasized "yes..." or "indeed" before every other statement. But sometimes trite stuff rings true.

But my all-time favorite voice-over sequence was from Glee when Wil and Coach Sue have a fight in their voiceover. TV genius!

Homebody vacation

2011-12-29T15:51:00.002+01:00

First things first, a little holiday video for the Juju fans.

So it's Thursday and I've been dutifully ticking off things on my to-do list. Napping, check (though not every day). Baking, check, some sugar cookies with a super easy recipe from the Net. Light cleaning/organizing, check. A bit of the bookshelf and throwing out old magazines. Still not that energetic about complete apartment overhaul. Sleeping past six, er, not working out so well. Juliette seems to be an early bird, and has been for the past few months. We can't seem to sleep past six thirty around here. Is she conditioned to wake up knowing cartoons are on? Remind me to send hate mail to the TV channels. But, on the other hand, it does force me to get going. And generally I laze around eating breakfast, drinking tea and watching a bit of TV with Juju or checking my email. It's nice to look at the clock and realize I don't have anywhere to rush off to.

Remi's been working all week though getting some heating problems worked out at the greenhouse and taking advantage of the relatively mild weather to get ahead on things. Kind of a shame since this is my only week off till June. But to be honest it does give me time to get ahead on some home stuff and studying. And though I'm loving my time with Juju, who, incidentally, seems to be speaking more English this week, too much alone time makes me introspective. Only seeing the odd cashier or administrative person is not social enough for me. I've seen my Facebook checking increase sickeningly and my worries about school and life in general go up too. I guess it's normal that I'm taking stock of things half way into my studies. Luckily I'm doing ok grade-wise, but I find myself worrying about the future and finances, of course. And I think knowing my family is all together over in the US does kind of pull on me this time of year. Even though I've been able to vicariously live through their holiday plans via email and Skype, it's just not quite the same. Little sigh of homesickness!

Anyhoo, I'm sure I'll be wishing I could get back even the greyer moments of this week once I'm back in school and complaining of the workload! This break was needed, and I'm enjoying it.

Finally!

2011-12-23T15:02:00.006+01:00

I've been waiting for this date for so long! A whole week off, after nearly four intense months of school, punctuated by just two days off in November. The only thing is I'm afraid I won't take advantage of my time, that it will go by too fast, that I won't be rested enough for all that's to come after my break...

Whoah, there horsies... let's take a deep breath and try to enjoy this week instead of fretting about the post-break work. I'd like to be that care-free kind of person. The only thing is I know we've got an exam coming up the week we get back then two more in the weeks after that. I'll have to do some studying but I must vow not to go overboard. Maybe I should make a to-do list with fun and relaxing stuff that I also need to do. So, here we go:

take naps
bake cookies
play with Juliette
take walks
watch movies
sleep past six a.m.
get apartment organized (oops, that sounds a bit like work); let's change that to "light cleaning"
call family and catch up on their fun holiday plans...

Yep, it's gonna be hard for me this year compared to last when I spent a glorious three weeks state-side. I keep getting that flood of holiday memories of all the fun things we did last year, imagining the tastes and sights and sounds of America. I'm missing home and homeland something awful but I guess I've got plenty of distractions here with school. And it does get a little easier to spend Christmas in France now that Juliette is here.

She's much more aware of the holiday season this year. She still doesn't like Santa. Apparently she cried when he came to her school last week. And same reaction when we saw him at the supermarket giving out candy. When I ask her what she wants him to bring her, she just says, "no". When I tell her to look at the TV cause Santa's on, she says "no".

She hasn't been hastling us too much about opening presents but she occasionally asks about them. For now she's more into the box (typical!) that aunt Jessy's presents came in, and popping the bubble wrap.

Catki likes it, too. Ooh, scary cat eyes.

Here she is answering questions about the tree and decorations:

So, merry Christmas to you, dear readers, and let's all try to get some rest this holiday season.

How NOT to make a gingerbread house

2011-12-18T19:02:00.008+01:00

My first attempt at a gingerbread house was quickly abandoned as I realized the icing recipe I had used was way too liquidy. I didn't have much powdered sugar so I found a recipe that didn't call for much, and the result was not what I wanted.

I call it the Gingerbread Crack House. Remi calls it a bunker or ghetto.

So today I bought more powdered sugar and used a proper recipe:

320 g powdered sugar
2 egg whites
Mix till glossy.
Spoon into a ziploc and close. Cut small hole in a corner.

The results were better, but still not stellar. Even if all I had to get right was the icing since I was using some Speculoos gingerbread cookies that I'd bought. I ended up using a bit of a cardboard box to "glue" my cookies onto and make it more stable. Remi helped out and made a roof. Then it was the fun part, decorating and eating bits of icing and candy.

We have moved out of the ghetto and into a middle-class fixer-upper.

It is still nothing to compare to the stuff you can find on the Internet.

Like this version of the house from the animated film Up. That's amazing!

Martha Stewart I will never be. But I don't think she tried to make gingerbread houses with a three year-old and full-time studies. Maybe so, though, and she did run a successful business. Oh, and spend time in prison for insider trading. I guess I'll content myself with being me after all.

Sick day

2011-12-02T14:30:00.004+01:00

I'm spending some unexpected quality time with my little one today. She woke up with high fever and as I knew Remi was supposed to be planting in a village all day, he couldn't take her to the doctor. So Juju and I were off to the GP, who ironically I'd tried to get an appointment with yesterday as her cold was lingering. But he was absent, as was the pediatrician. But we got seen quickly today and as it seems the cold has gone into what he calls a super-infection in her bronchial tubes, we left with a prescription for antibiotics in hand.

She fell asleep in my arms on the couch and stayed asleep as I shifted her on to the pillows. I couldn't resist taking a picture of my sleepy red-cheeked baby.

She hardly ate a thing for lunch and now she's sleeping again. I hope this fever goes down soon. I always feel so bad when her colds seem to have gone too far. It's such a fine line between trying to let her fight it off with her own defenses and needing a bit of help from meds. This was one case where she really needed it.

I was almost relieved to have a day at home with her though, relatively guilt-free because she obviously needed to stay home. As I said in my last post, it's hard for me to sit still lately, but I need to. And I enjoyed holding my feverish girl in my lap, even though I know she's feeling weak.

I guess sometimes I'm a bit like Hermione in Harry Potter, the girl in the class who has already started making notecards for the next exam and likes to respond to the teachers' questions. But, believe me, I don't know everything. Sometimes I'm downright slow. But I've got this study-bug tendency. It's hard for me to know when I've studied enough. Things will start slacking off soon though (only to crank back up again in January with mega exams!).

I keep wanting to go all out on Christmas decorations, despite my lack of time. I'm gonna start decorating next weekend and maybe even make a gingerbread house (how did yours turn out, Amber?). And decorate those plain stockings I got super cheap at Target last year when I was back home (mega sniff sniff that I'm not going back this year...). But I don't know if I'll have so much time. Maybe I just need to make time for those fun soul-filling activities.

Got Juliette an advent calendar that has a nativity scene on it to teach her a bit about the real meaning of Christmas. There are little chocolates behind each door. This morning she asked me: "Baby Jesus got chocolate?" Oh, dear. I guess these things get mixed up in a child's mind.

Bundle up out there and enoy some cocoa. Until next time...

Thanksgiving week and weird pains

2011-11-27T06:42:00.002+01:00

I made my Thanksgiving meal two days after. I've had to adapt my traditions while in France. Strangely, the French still haven't made it an official holiday here! I always feel a pinch in my heart as I trod off to work (or school this year) when I know my fellow Americans are preparing (or waiting for) scrumptious meals. So my tradition has become calling or writing my family and getting them to tell me what they're eating. My mouth generally waters just to hear words like honey-roasted ham and Sister Shubert's rolls (delicious yeasty rolls).

So on my side of the pond I made French-fried onion coated chicken filets (using the can of imported fried onions from mom: crush the fried onions, add an egg, coat chicken, bake at 400°F 20 minutes), potatoes, green beans and a pineapple cobbler thingey (again using a mix my mom had sent me). It was yummy and did make me feel linked to my country. I taught Juliette to say Happy Thanksgiving and tried to explain what the holiday meant, in three-year old terms. I think I understand why immigrants can be so tied to their home country's traditions. It's a way to keep their identity alive, to affirm their origins.

In other news I've been suffering from some excruciating joint pain. A few weeks ago Juliette was diagnosed with Fifth's Disease, which is a virus which causes a strange red rash on the arms, legs and cheeks. She was so bright red I thought I had burned her in the bath and we took her to the ER. The overworked doc from Romania ('cause there aren't enough French docs, it seems), said it was viral and a fever might rear its ugly head soon. But she was fine and the rash finally subsided.

But last Sunday it was my turn to get the rash and when I woke the next morning I felt like I was about 75 due to my creaky joints. If this is old age, it's not fun, people. Then during gym class I tripped (on my own foot!) and fell down and of course used my wrists to break the fall. (The fall was not due to the joint pain buy my eternal clumsiness. I broke my pinky in middle school trying to catch a football with all my fingers pointing out.) During the night I couldn't feel my fingers and the pain was intense. I figured I had a hairline fracture or something, and hauled myself to the ER the next morning, but the x-ray showed nothing. The pain continued, especially in the night, and my GP confirmed that all this was due to the virus, in fact. In adults joint pain is quite common. Reading a few forums on the Internet showed me that some people suffer from this pain quite a long time after the inital virus. As in years. I really hope that's not the case for me!

In other news, school is as intense as ever. Lots of exams coming up and a French paper which I must finalize. Two people in my class are seriously thinking of stopping. We're all rather frazzled and tired. This program tries to cram two years of courses into one. We have on average 38 hours a week of lessons, then you need to do some exercises and not fall behind on studying when you're at home. A night off for me is when I study on the couch instead of at the table. Last night I had such a raging a headache that I really did take the night off though. And it was nice.

Sometimes I find myself wishing this school year would hurry up and finish. But then I realize that also means Juliette's three-year old self will be finishing, too. And I already feel like I haven't gotten to appreciate my time with her this year. Sometimes she's the last little one at the after-school care when I pick her up at 6:10. I try to cherish my time with her, but I'm sometimes distracted by all I must do home and house-work-wise. But I do love the cute things she says, and I'll note a few before I forget.:
"Peek it on" instead of "keep it on" regarding her little undershirts. She's a bit obsessed with them. And also her cardigans 'cause she's learning to button things.
"Can we do Christmas when we get home?" because they're starting to make ornaments at school.
"Mommy, we're gonna take you to the doctor," when I showed her my own rash.
"The moon is broken," when she saw a quarter moon one night.

She does say a lot more things in French now, which is normal since she's hearing so much at school. Sometimes she'll go on in French mode with me and I try to get her to go back to English. Other nights she's more spontaneously English. I guess I can't force it.

In other words, we're just doing the best we can on all fronts, taking it one step at a time. What more can you do?

Warm Thanksgiving wishes to you all!

The same old song

2011-11-13T16:30:00.009+01:00

(Almost) all the leaves are brown
And the sky is grey
And I've been for a walk on an autumn's day
I'd be safe and warm
If I was in AL
Alabama dreamin'
On such an autumn's day!

Fall seems to make me more nostalgic for my home country. This season in general makes me turn inward, as if I'm mentally huddling down, hugging my scarf next to my face. In the evening I'm content more than ever to be a homebody as I pull the curtains on a prematurely dark world. And in the day I study the afternoon light that seems more intense, even if there's less of it, and it makes me think of the sunbeams in my mom's kitchen at this time of year. Maybe it's also Thanksgiving and Christmas coming around the corner. And fall was definitely my favorite season in AL, a respite from the stifling heat, as I'm sure I've said before.

I've been wishing I could teleport myself back to those places I know so well, to make a batch of cookies in that kitchen, to hug the necks of the people I'm missing. But school will keep me busy for the next eight months, so dreams of a cozy day back home are put on hold. But we've been trying to create our own coziness on this side of the pond. Making banana muffins (and I put a square of chocolate in the middle of each muffin before cooking them to give them a little kick!) and taking a few walks in foggy forests. Here are a few pics.

So I lied. Not all the leaves are brown. I love seeing a spot of color on a grey day.

So there are some sunny days! This is me being artsy taking my picture in a mirror. Remi got me this red coat two Christmases ago. I never would have picked it out myself, but now I say, why not. And putting on red on a dull grey day makes me feel immediately warmer.

Do you see what's wrong with this picture? In fact this is not a real store but just a big piece of fabric with the image of a storefront airbrushed on it. Took it near my school.

There's nothing like a chocolate iPhone to warm you up on a chilly day.

So, school has been nothing short of insane in terms of work load. I've come to the conclusion I just can't learn everything, so I'm trying to just prioritize. Almost done with the communication project for French which has really eaten up a lot of time. And I mean a lot. Then there's the research paper for French. And then all the scientific subjects which are, duh, very important. We've been doing lots of labs that analyze food products, like measuring the acidity in a Coca-Cola or the sugar content in milk. And in microbiology we've been given an unknown bacterial strain we must identify by doing a whole bunch of tests. Interesting but lots of work and I hope I'll remember it all for the exams and the lab exams which I'm totally dreading. That's where they give you a protocol and you must do it in four hours while teachers watch you! Can you say stress?

Juliette's a handful but then she'll say something so cute and cock her head to one side that I'll forgive her for all her cranky moments. She's getting into all the cartoons we can watch on the Disney channel in English. Did you know they changed the Mickey Mouse song? It's by They Might Be Giants and just as stick-in-your-heady as the old one. And now she's crept up into my lap and is asking if she can watch Elmo, please? Guess that's my cue to sign off!

What's going on

2011-10-16T16:45:00.004+02:00

Time for an update on my last two weeks:

Ever had that exam nightmare where you were late? In my case it wasn't a nightmare but I seriously thought about pinching myself to make myself wake up. My normal route to school had a roadblock for some reason I still don't know. And I wasn't quite sure how to get around it and ended up getting monumentally lost. On the morning of my statistics exam which was supposed to be at 8:05. Can you say panic? I made it 30 minutes late only to find that my classmates weren't in the regular room. I frantically searched and asked admin folks where they might be and finally found them. Luckily the professor let me in and even gave me extra time to finish. Verdict's still out on the test which we all found rather tricky. Will get the grade in November.

While we're on the subject of tests, you must mark everything in ink. Even math tests! You can have your scrap paper but must transfer the official answers to the real test and in ink. Here again the professor was kind to me, knowing I'm not always aware of the school procedures in France, but he said next time write it all in ink. It's kind of security measure so the student can't later claim their pencilled-in answers were smudged or changed, he said.

School has had its ups and downs. Though some days I feel really on my game and congratulate myself for getting an in-class exercise right, other times I'm lost or not concentrating. Overall things are going ok, and I continue to enjoy most of what I'm learning. I'm still glad I did this and now when I hear of another person thinking about going back to school, I encourage them wholeheartedly. Even fictional characters like Allison Dubois on Medium*, contemplating going back to law school. I say, go, girl, you can do it, it'll be tough, but you'll get there.

But I'm a bit disappointed sometimes in the immaturity of my classmates. Granted, most are much younger than me. Maybe their immaturity is rubbing off on me, in fact. I don't know why I get involved in their silly games sometimes and get bent out of shape or feel like defending people when there is maybe some injustice going on. Maybe I'm more like Lynette on Desperate Housewives** than I think. Then in the end I decide neutrality is the best way to go. The others in the class say I'm the "momma" because I seem to try and take care of them. But I'm doing this thing for myself, not to get lost in interpersonal dramas.

Speaking of momma-ness, that's been hard-going too. Or rather, a week ago it was, but this week's been better. Juliette had some amazingly long and hard tantrums a week ago and I seriously felt exhausted by school and then her antics. I felt like I was losing it. Luckily this week every evening she was sweet and cuddly, with some of the usual whininess, but nothing like that one day she practically wouldn't let me put her in the carseat. I've spent lots of good quality time with her this weekend. Stayed at home today, Sunday, because of my head cold, while Remi hauled in mums for All Saints' Day which is approaching. I know not all my Sundays will be like this, so I'm enjoying it, lazy afternoon naps and baking to boot! So until next time, hope you all are having some lovely fall weekends. Know I'm thinking of you all even if I don't email or read your blogs as much as I used to. Air kisses to you all.

*Ah, Medium. Finally getting the last season, and in English. And can I just say- Joe Dubois?! So, yes, you know, husband of the year, and indescribably yummy in his sleepware...
**And people say my mom is a bit like Lynette, too, so maybe it's genetic. I've got more fire in me than I thought.

Heard it all before, but it bears repeating

2011-10-03T15:39:00.006+02:00

I know I'm gonna sound like a broken record this year. Too much to do for school, not enough time with the family. And though Remi is having to deal with sometimes feeling single when I go back to the room and study while he watches evening TV, it's just harder to explain that this year mommy's rather busy to a three-year old. And there are times, many times, when I feel rather sad to have only seen my little one five minutes or not at all in the morning before dashing off. Mondays seem to be tougher on me as I remember the quality time we spent together on the weekend, and I realize I'll have so little time with her on weeknights. Even though I know so many working moms deal with this, I sometimes feel like complaining.

And it seems that Juliette's own school experience is taking a toll on her. She still seems to like it enough, especially lunchtime and eating at the cafeteria. We've noticed her speaking French more clearly now when she "faux-talks" on the phone. And she's speaking more and more French with Remi's family. Still English with me but I can hear a bit more French creep in. Sometimes it makes me twinge a little in that I feel like I'm "losing" her. It's silly, I know, because obviously she is half-French and lives here and must speak that language!

She also acts up a bit more at home. "No" has always been one of her favorite words, but she can yell it with such ferocity now and for the silliest things. Her teacher says she's quite well-behaved at school but that kids sometimes need to "let it all out" at home. It's been tough dealing with tantrums at the end of the day when all I want is to have fun with her. I sometimes even tell her, as she writhes on the floor, that mommy is sad when Juliette isn't happy. Then her screams turn more to sobs and she'll say "make mommy sad" in a guilty wail. I hope I'm not giving her a complex, but I did read that you should explain things to toddlers.

But I try to focus on the good times, like singing songs on the bed after school.

Meanwhile, I've found an internship for my training program. Will be at a company that we'll call Pasta Place in the microbiology lab. At least that's one less thing to worry about. That will be in January, for a seven-week period. I got home early from the interview and didn't think it worthwhile to drive back to school for an hour and a half of English class (what with the price of gas and all, too). So of course I rushed to Blogger to update! Now I'm gonna make some chocolate chip cookies with white chocolate bits before I go pick up Juliette from school at the official end of the school day.

September is...

2011-09-25T11:50:00.001+02:00

September is watching the vines start to turn red (and getting a bit blue that chilly fall's around the corner).

September is trying to appreciate my new surroundings at school (since I have to spend more than eight hours a day there anyway) and walking up three flights of stairs to my classroom. (By the way, I did sign up for P.E., and badminton it is. I'm still as bad as I used to be, but hopefully I'll get an A for effort?!)

And adapting to bathrooms that are both for men and women. You can see that the sign is for Monsieur et Madame. I hate having to avert my head in case a guy is using a urinal. And sometimes I dream of installing those Japanese style toilets that make a white noise to mask any user noises.

September is getting used to the school routine for Juliette, too. And making the most of my evening time with her. It still stays light till about eight. Here she is looking too precious in the red sailor dress her French grandma brought her back from vacation.

September is the first strike at Juliette's school. Three weeks into the school year and we get a pink flyer telling us next Tuesday all three of the teachers at her pre-school are heeding the "call to strike" because teaching jobs are to be cut according to the federal budget. Let's hope this strike thing isn't going to last too long. Luckily Remi's mom can watch her this time.

And September is realizing that this school thing is very time-consuming and often bad-mood-inducing for me. Lack of sleep, lack of family time compared to what I used to have. And the realization that this is just the beginning!

Hanging in there

2011-09-11T13:48:00.004+02:00

This was the week I was dreading. Juliette's first day of school was Monday and my school is now in its more intense mode of four different subjects per day. Not to mention that now that the main summer vacation period is over there is more traffic on the road. Damn all those extra cars on the road. Why couldn't they just stay on vacation?

But we're surviving. Juliette seems to be adapting well to school. The first day she only cried when she realized Remi and I were leaving. Otherwise she was eager to play with the toys in her new classroom. But it pulled on my heartstrings to see her little face break into tears. And to know I had to let her handle it on her own. That's part of growing up. And, yes, to answer the question you're all wondering, I did cry a little, too. Just before while we were waiting outside the school to go in. But I was able to dry my tears pretty quickly.

In front of our apartment on the first day of school.

Waiting outside her school.

When I picked her up at the end of the day she yelled out "Mommy" and ran into my arms. The first thing she said was "new friends!" That's what I'd told her she'd make at school, so I was happy to hear it. The teacher said she is "adorable", which in French can also has the connotation of well-behaved. At least I think so. The after-school care ladies have been complimentary of JuJu, too. I hope she continues to be a good girl!

As for my school, things seem to be going so much faster now. The good news is that I like what I'm learning, especially now that we're having more lessons in biology and microbiology. Luckily I have learned most of this stuff before (though in some cases it's been a good, oh, 17 years ago!). Statistics really scared me at first when I realized I didn't get it as fast as the others. The bad news is I've never had a math brain, and with age, those neurons need some extra training. I've been redoing some of the exercises, and it's becoming clearer now. I still think I'll throw everyone I know (and that includes you, blogger friends) a party if I get a passing grade in this class!

This Friday we had our first lab class and it was funny to see all my classmates in their white lab coats and imagine them working one day in this field. Immediately everyone seemed more serious, even if it was just due to appearances. We only got a run-through of the safety procedures in the lab. But the teacher also took a sample of yogurt and put it on a microscope slide and showed us that there were indeed live active cultures of bacteria in there. Pretty cool.

View from my classroom. Red tiled roofs all around.

Of course, it's tough trying to study on the weekends when Juliette is not keen to nap. I get nervous that I'm not going to be able to pull this year off. I'm doing my best, and things are obviously different when you go back to school as a mom. My home life is not the same as it was when I first got my degrees in the U.S. Boy, is it different. When the bell rings at my school at 5:30 I'm off to my car and ready to be my "mom" self again. I generally can't get back to my notes till 9 or 9:15 at night. And if I try to read in the bedroom I'll often nod off. This year is a challenge. I knew that. But if I can make it, I'll be proud. Just about ten more months to go!

PS: Quick blogger poll. Should I take PE (physical education)? It's an option but any points I get over 10 (out of 20) will help my overall average. If I don't take it I have two extra hours to study at school per week. But maybe I need a bit of exercise to be more effective?!

School girl

2011-08-20T22:18:00.004+02:00

Lately all Juliette can talk about is school. Pre-school, in fact, but for her it is "'cool.". As in, "I'm going to 'cool.". Or " I want to go to 'cool. But it's closed today.". Even though she really doesn't know what school is, it seems like a happening place with all the hype we've been giving it.

For example, she knows she's got to be potty-trained to go to school. It's a rather pesky requirement here in France, and one that has nearly driven us nuts. Luckily when my mom was here we got Juju more into the habit of wearing underwear and learning to hold it in. Now she'll look at me earnestly and repeat what we've been saying to her: "I'm a big girl now. I wear underwear.". And if she sees me getting dressed she'll say that I'm a big girl, too, since I wear them, too. However, (FYI: TMI alert) she requests a diaper for number two. The doctor said this is a form of being trained in 30% of kids.

She's still not sure about napping in school, and if I say she can bring her stuffed animal for naptime she says she doesn't want him to get dirty.

I think she is going to like being with other kids and having so many activities. We're curious to see how her language development will go since we don't really hear her speaking French at home except in an occasional exchange with her baby dolls or when she pretends to be on the phone. The babysitter assures us Juliette does speak French. Strangely though she's even shy to use it with her French grandmother. It could be because Remi and I are there and we both represent English to her. Or that Remi's mom uses some English words. I caught Juliette saying "What the (h)eck is that?" the other day so her English slang is coming along nicely.

She's got her Tinkerbell backpack (which she sometimes wears out on our outings). Here you can see her showing it off. (When she says "talk like a little girl, Mommy," she means speak French. She has noticed I speaker higher in French and one time told me to stop talking like a little girl!)

She'll be in before- and after-school care since Remi and I will both have longer days this year. As I've said before this is going to be a busy year for us all. And with my school as well, Remi says he'll have two students at home.

Quick and dirty tiramisu

2011-08-10T16:09:00.005+02:00

I've noticed lots of recipes call themselves tiramisus even if they don't have mascarpone or coffee. Basically it has come to mean anything with a cream base and layered. I'm good with that. I also love how you can type in the ingredients you happen to have at home into Google and find a recipe. That's what I did yesterday with gingerbread and raspberries and got some inspiration for my own recipe. Which I had to share with you!

Juliette and I picked some raspberries in the morning at this farm near our place. I'm a real sucker for these kinds of places. And I think it's a pretty good price, too, or at least not more than you'd pay in the store.

So, here we go:

Take some of your raspberries and mash them up with a fork. Add sugar to taste.

Crumble up some gingerbread (or any other cake or cookie you have around. Why not Oreos? Mmmm.)

Take 250 grams of mascarpone (that's about 9 ounces) and beat with some liquid cream and sugar. I used about 10 cl (about 3.5 ounces) of crème liquide (15%) and sugar to taste. This is to lighten the mascarpone a bit. Plus, I'm a bit wary of using raw eggs in recipes as most of the real tiramisu ones called for. This is a nice alternative.

Now's the fun part. Take your ingredients and start layering to your delight.

I put the gingerbread bits at the bottom of my glass, then the crushed raspberries, then a nice dollop of the mascarpone. And a few raspberries on top for decoration.

Chill in the fridge an hour or two if you can wait that long, because I find that the raspberry mixture blends in with the gingerbread flavor that way.

And enjoy!

Only one more week

2011-08-08T16:20:00.001+02:00

So here I am at the halfway point of my school break. Trying to enjoy the time that's left and a little bit anxious about what's ahead. As I write this it's a beautiful but windy blue sky with puffy clouds. I've just napped about forty-five minutes while Juliette naps. I'm praying she continues to bless me with my lovely afternoon naps for a good part of this year, because I'm going to need that time to study.

As I mentioned, my French teacher told us to really chill during this break. But I feel the need to review a little in chemistry (nomenclature and being able to assess why a chemical product is dangerous) as this is where I'm rather rusty. Trust me though, I haven't been doing it every day nor four hours a day.

Mostly in the two weeks before my break we had chemistry classes, a few on lab analysis, the general principles, and lots of English and French (that's with the pop star teacher, who is incidentally very good at his job). I'm going to have to write a report in French (this year's general theme is money), and we've been reading some texts in class about the theme, too. Let me tell you that reading Karl Marx is difficult in English, so imagine doing it in French. But in general, I'm enjoying things, though sometimes freaking out at all the work that awaits me. Like a community service project?! What does that have to do with working in a lab? Absolutely nothing but it's part of the program.

English has been ok, though a bit odd. The teacher is cool about the fact that I'm already a native speaker. We were in the language lab all week as we have to practice understanding oral comprehension for their test at the end. It is frankly weird to be on the other side of the desk and be taking notes on what the person calling wanted in the telephone conversation. The very same type of exercises I gave my students before! We haven't done much speaking yet. It is a class of ten or eleven and it's harder to let everyone have a chance to talk, I suppose. Of course, the subject is not difficult for me (duh!), but I'll just have to not get tripped up on questions that are simple because I'm trying to make them complicated.

English classes aside, it is still strange to be in an all-French environment all day. I can honestly say there are times I miss chatting with my colleagues in English and being able to shoot the breeze with students. At school I feel a bit more self-conscious about what I say, because I know they could spot the fact that I'm not always at ease with the language. I also appreciate speaking English at home with Juliette and Remi even more now.

But luckily the cameraderie between the classmates (only about 14 of us) is good, and that makes the time pass quickly. One girl who tried med school in France told me it's not the same at all. Here you can start med school pre-requisite studies without taking any type of exam (as opposed to the MCAT in the US). And because there is such fierce competition to make it through the first year, those who are repeating it will make noise when the professor says something very important in class. That way first years can't hear it and are almost doomed to fail the exam. I was just shocked to hear that. It sounds like such a cruel system. Yet another difference between France and the US regarding education.

Alright, no more school talk now! More rest, home projects and baking (and light studying now and then)!

Beef- it's what's for dinner

2011-08-05T15:08:00.005+02:00

Anybody remember that old ad? In my case, it's true because I bought an insane amount of beef from the butcher's today. It's one of those embarassing foreigner moments that I thought was behind me after nearly nine years in France. Like the time I thought the waitress hadn't yet given the chef our order because she'd left the ticket on the table. So I asked if I could change and in fact she was a bit put out because they'd already started preparing the meal. Or, different country but same dilemma, in Holland when I thought I was walking into a regular café. When I asked if they were serving, the lady looked at me strangely and said no, despite the presence of other "customers". The only thing I can figure out was that it was in fact kind of a homeless shelter.

But apparently even knowing the language well doesn't mean you'll glide through every situation. Like today when I decided to check out the "hard discount" supermarket. Or as the French say, "ahrd diss-KOONT". Yes, they sometimes inexplicably use English terms for stuff. Then when you ask them what a "discount" means in English class, they don't know.

For those of you who don't know the concept, this type of supermarket is a no-frills place where the food is supposed to be quite cheap, in part because they don't spend much money at all on ads on TV, they don't play music in the store, and the merchandise is just put on fairly basic shelving. You don't find too many brands either. I checked out ALDI today, which I think you can also find in the US. There I was all proud of myself to get out of the store for only about 42 euros minus most of the meat. There was an in-house butcher for that. So I stood in line and waited my turn to ask about beef for a beer stew recipe (carbonnade) I've been wanting to try.

I'd written down the quantity of meat needed (1.5 kilograms) and the cuts that could be used. But I couldn't find my list right away and just mentioned the recipe and amount I needed. The saleswoman suggested the "gîte" meat, and I said, ok. Someone in the back started cutting it and then she brought it out and weighed it. It was 1.8 kg in fact, and as I saw the price per kilo come up, my eyes literally popped out of my head. 25 euros! Yikes. I mentioned that this looked like a lot of meat, and she volunteered to remove some. At first I said, no, then I said, on second thought, yes, please. So she brought it down to 1.2 kg and 18 euros.

Even though I did work in a lab and should feel at ease with metric, I guess I had a brain fart today. Because 1.2 kilos is a bout 2.6 pounds. That's a lot of beef, people! Even for a big recipe for six people (which is apparently the number of people my recipe can serve, if I'd looked more closely). But I'm also going to blame it on not knowing all these cuts of meat (gîte à la noix is in fact top rump) and the fact that the price wasn't displayed in front of me when she suggested this particular kind.

Luckily, after nine years, I take these things a little more in stride (despite a brief urge to run to the car and cry). Even when I heard the saleswoman ask her boss discreetly if it was ok that they were putting back some meat, I thought, well, better that I do this than end up with a colossal amount of meat in my freezer. In the end I think I'll just freeze half and prepare the other half for three people.

And next time I will certainly ask the price before!

Beach Trip 2011

2011-08-02T22:27:00.007+02:00

So now I've got two weeks to enjoy not being in school. I've only been in my program a month and I can't say it's been overly intense, but I still need a break. The French teacher (who incidentally looks like a pop star, with his long hair and very tanned skin- I'll catch you all up on school stuff later) recommended we really try and relax during these two weeks and not study, since when we come back, and especially in September, things will start piling up.

Though I can't fully take that advice, I did empty out the backpack I've been using for school and filled it with towels, sunscreen, toys to keep Juliette occupied, snacks, and we headed to... the beach! I'd told Remi that once we saw a hot weather day coming up we'd make a run for it (since these past two and a half weeks have been very UNsummer-like). We chose well. Monday and Tuesday were balmier than usual. This time around we didn't have to keep jackets on when we walked the beach.

Juju got into sand castles (or "crackers," as she calls them) this time around.

Being carried by papa because, "I don't want to get 'mine' feet dirty!"

We stayed over one night in a hotel and Tuesday we went back to the beach in the morning and in the afternoon we checked out a garden. All was going well till I told Juliette to stop running around like a crazy girl and stick by us. And Tantrum Girl reared her ugly head again. Seems like we can't go without one major meltdown during our excursions. I once again had to steer her out of the garden kicking and screaming in her stroller. I'm totally over this part of the Troublesome Threes.

Happy family. Little did we know what would be in store for the afternoon (dramatic music...)

Moments before the tantrum. In a peaceful patch of wildflowers. She always picks such lovely places to go berserk.

Picture taken by Juju. The abbey I didn't get to see since she went wild. I told Remi to go on and visit without us (as to avoid a second meltdown indoors).

But, despite all the toddler drama, I did enjoy myself. I had a lovely walk on the beach, soaking up the sounds and sights and smells. I tried to memorize the moment to go back to when life gets hectic. And I'm sure I'll be thinking back fondly of these two days come November when the skies are dull and school's weighing me down. Summer memories are delicious.

What I've noticed- school stuff

2011-07-18T12:13:00.003+02:00

In my very brief experience in my school (just sevenish days so far), I've noticed a few things that I find funny. For example...

*Three out of the twelve students have rulers that they use to underline important things while taking notes. Remi was looking at my notes as I reviewed them in front of the TV one night and he said, oh, that reminds me of my messy notes at the end of the semester when I was in a hurry. Well, my notes weren't that messy but I hadn't used a ruler to underline headings. So the next day I used a ruler just to see what it was like, and it does make things look very neat. But I'm not going to be obsessive about it. The idea is to retain what the teacher said, not to make a beautiful page that could be put in the next textbook edition.

*Some teachers give small dictations. Though the economics teacher is a live wire and likes to digress on topics, he also has parts of his lesson where he dictates a paragraph of Very Important Information. We're all there writing furiously and trying to absorb the meaning at the same time. I suppose it's like the teacher writing important things on the board, but it feels strange to be doing a dictation at my age. So scholarly.

*French students are more casual than you'd think. Forget the image of the French fashion-conscious person. I've noticed that some of my fellow students often wear the exact same outfit two or three days in a row. Actually, this is a French thing. Whereas I might wear the same pants a few times in a week, I generally always have different shirts. I guess there's nothing wrong with recycling your outfits as long as they're clean, but it's just that in the US people would say, hey, didn't you wear that yesterday?

*No ostentation religious symbols are allowed in public schools. I give the Algerian girl a lift to the tramway station and I noticed she'd put on her head scarf as we approached the stop. But she doesn't wear it in school. I asked her why and she said because it's forbidden in school. I'd forgotten they'd passed this law a few years back. In this girl's case it's not a burka or anything as restrictive as that. Black or colored head scarfs in fact. And she dresses pretty much normally, jeans and tops, the occasional more ethnic style shirt and pants suit. Frankly I don't see a problem with her wearing her scarf, but I know the idea behind this law was to help women not be forced to wear it by overbearing husbands or fathers.

*Foreign diplomas = big fat zero. Never mind that I have a Master's degree in the US (and I'm not bragging there, because it's been so long I'm not even sure what it was in). None of the courses I took back home will transfer so I must take all the courses in the new training program. I don't mind as I need the review anyway, and some of it is new material for me. But even English is not exempt. So next week I'll be having English classes every morning. On the bright side of things, I guess it'll boost my average.

Until next time, study hard, dudes. And if you're not a student, then relax and cherish the moment!

Nearly three

2011-07-13T17:04:00.007+02:00

I think I've always enjoyed three-year olds. They are fun creatures. Delightful, despite their continuing tendency to have a tantrum or two. Little pint-sized humans that giggle and dance and say biggish sentences in their unbelievably small voices. I enjoy Juliette at this age (not that I didn't before). I like teaching her about the world and seeing how she processes it. And how she repeats things she hears me saying, mannerism and all.

Tuesday morning we didn't have a lesson at my school (hard to find teachers who aren't on vacation in July, I think), and I was happy to spend the time with Juju. I'm more conscious of appreciating my time with her now that I have less of it. So it was off to the bakery for a loaf of bread and a pain au chocolat that we shared on the way to the the little playground nestled in the trees. We were alone there except for some teen girl who kept sending texts on her phone. I tried to teach Juliette how to pump her legs as she was swinging. We've still got work to do but she did like repeating "up and bend" as she swung. That look of pure joy on her face as she went up and down, leaning her head back to look at the leaves above is just priceless. I swung beside her and looked up at the trees, too. Being at the playground in the cool of the morning and staring up at the sky brought me back to my own childhood and similar, blurry memories. When the air is fresh and life seems limitless. Oh, to be three again, not a worry in the world.

She's also entering that DVD mania stage. While my mom was here she bought a few pre-birthday gifts for Juliette of some DVDs that will play on our French-bought system. (Ones from the US have to be played on the computer.) So now my little one often asks for Pinnocchio or Nemo or Chim-chiminey (Mary Poppins) and Strawberry Shortcake (the older ones, thank you. The new CG characters remind of Manga girls or preteens who hang out at the mall. But that's just me. No, it isn't, check out this like-minded blogger!). It's amazing how she can get so absorbed in these, though her attention span is still short and she will take her Dora book at the same time. We can watch all these DVDs in English by the way.

She's definitely more little girl than baby now. Longer body, of course. Much more hair than this time last year, often curly. The sitter wonders if she'll be taller than me when she grows up. Juliette looks at clothes in the shops and says "That's cute," and again I know that comes frome me. She's also a little Monkish: if she sees dirt on the floor, she'll tell me to "clean it up!" I can't tell you how tickled I am to hear her saying so many things in English at home. It helps that Remi is willing to converse in English with her, too.

So an early happy birthday to my little one! May three be a great year for us all!

First week

2011-07-07T22:01:00.001+02:00

I'm trying out the BlogWriter app on my iPod. No wifi at school but I can type it and publish later. School's ok so far. The other ten students are nice. I'm not the oldest, but a good number of my fellow students are 24. I've had classes in computer technology and economics. Today we've started learning about the new labelling system for chemicals in the lab.

It's weird to be back in a school environment. I think I'm enjoying it but I'm afraid to be hasty. I feel that this was a good decision because I find the subjects interesting for the most part. A nice moment was eating lunch in the grass with the others. Reminded me of my college days. I'm trying to remember that I'm lucky to have the opportunity to go back to school.

Of course, it's a transition for me. I wish I could get home earlier. I try to make the most of my few hours with Juju in the evening. I can feel I'm missing her already. My curly-topped girl is such a joy to me. I think she knows it. Remi takes her in the morning and he's helping out with some more chores since my home time is more limited.

We've just got to hang on for this year.

Brave or crazy? You be the judge.

2011-07-01T22:15:00.002+02:00

Ah, travelling with a nearly three-year old. No one said it would be easy. And it wasn't. Though there were moments things went swimmingly (potty-training is doing much better, thank you), there were others where we wanted to sink into the earth (tantrum in the otherwise peaceful water lily gardens at Giverny). Well, we survived."We" being Remi and I and my mom, who has been here visiting for the past two weeks. And, let's face it, it's not so easy on Juliette either. Being confined to a car for a road trip, having nap times shortened or skipped, sleeping in hotel rooms. Or more like not sleeping because she was really disoriented by the new environment.

But we saw some beautiful things and I think it's always important to see how much you can adapt with a child. Maybe we should have been doing more travelling with her from the start, but money and time limited us on that.

Anyway, here are some pictures to wet your appetite!

Totally copying Crystal here, we went to Giverny, to see the charming country house and lovely gardens of Monet. I loved seeing the view he had from his bedroom.

My mom and Juliette in the gardens. Before the tantrum.

Giverny is only about an hour from the city of Rouen. It's got a lovely downtown, including this gorgeous old clock (le gros horloge), a cathedral and charming architecture reminiscent of Alsace with the half-timbered houses. It's also the city where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake, for you history buffs.

Then we spent an evening in Mers-les-Bains and the next day took some windy walks in Fort Mahon beach before heading back to our home base. Wouldn't you know it, the day after it was hot and sunny at the beach. Oh, well.

As usual, it's been great having family around. I tell mom I feel like I have a clone- another person who thinks quite like me and has the same instincts as me (as in prepping for dinner and doing the dishes, a godsend). When my dad was here it was quite the same. My mom's been a tremendous help around the house and has also helped me out on some home projects.

But as I speak she's flying back home. Two weeks went by quickly, as we knew they would. I find myself dreaming, as she does, too, that we only lived down the road. Or even just five hours by car would be better than our current situation. It's tougher this time because with my back-to-school situation (that would be in two days, people, yikes!), I'm not 100% sure when I'll see my family next. I guess I'll do my best to hold on to all the great memories we made on this trip and know that we're simply on the long waiting side of "see you next time."

Me against the world

2011-06-15T12:26:00.002+02:00

This post is an abrupt about face from my last happily dapply one. Today I'm writing you from the bottom of the dark damp pit that is anger, depression and alienation. Hello, my old friends. It hasn't been so long, after all?

The cause: the total misunderstanding that stemmed from one of Juliette's tantrums. Monday she tried to slap me as I was putting her in her high chair for her snack (which she didn't want). I immediately picked her wriggling body up and put her in the playpen in Remi's room (we were at his parents') and told her to calm down. I didn't hit her back. To me that seemed illogical to say, don't hit mommy, then for me to spank her. It seemed contrary to the message I wanted to send, that hitting is wrong.

Of course, she started wailing. She knew she was being punished. She started getting hysterical. So I went back in there and tried to talk to her and at one point did give her leg a little slap to bring her back to reason. But she continued howling. Remi heard about the whole situation from his parents and later said I should have spanked her right away. The insinuation was that I was coming off as weak and not in control of my daughter in the first place as she tried to hit me.

This of course is wrong. I know from reading parents' forums online that toddlers hitting their parents or others is quite common and part of this phase of their life where they "test" things out. It is important to react, I'm not denying that. And I did react, immediately, by putting her in time out. This is where I apparently differ from just about all French people. Because since said situation, Remi has been telling me that so and so agree with him that spanking would have been the best solution right away.

Now I'm not entirely against the occasional mild spanking but I'm totally against it becoming a routine way to punish. My pediatrician is in fact against it all together. It seems to me to be the easy way out for parents. No need to explain and reason with the child. Just the threat of the hand. It's not the only way to discipline your child, that's what I want to shout out! A child also needs to understand why what they did was wrong, to learn to say sorry, to realize during their time out that what they did has landed them in isolation.

It's just starting to get to me big time that I'm always (or nearly so) in the minority when it comes to parenting views around here. No one takes me seriously when I say that when a child doesn't want to eat that yelling at them and giving them the uneaten beans from lunch at snack time is NOT the right approach. Ok, I get frustrated like the next parent and get testy when I see Juliette pick at her food. But I'm trying to find the best way to get her interested in food without dunking her head in the bowl. (Rest assured, that's never happened).

And now it's the entire French population who seems to think that the parent who doesn't spank tout de suite (right away) is coming off as weak (see this article which does show there might be some cultural background for this). And will probably have a demon child at the age of 15. There was talk of having an anti-spanking law here (as in Sweden), but most people scoffed at the idea.

If I have to repeat it ten times a day, I will. I am NOT a weak parent. I'm not a perfect one, but I don't let my child walk all over me either. And I'm sure she'll grow up to be a sweet and lovely person, despite her toddler tantrums.

This time of year

2011-06-11T15:15:00.006+02:00

These are the glorious days. Like Thursday when I didn't mind that much driving an hour to one of my client's because the sky was gorgeous with cottony clouds. And my favorite UB40 song, their version of Here I am Baby, set the mood for my ride back (yet another hour) as I enjoyed rolling green farmland, complete with the odd cow.

Spring does that to me. Makes my heart sing. Even though today as I write this we've got grey weather and rain clouds in the distance, I don't mind, because I know the garden will be getting some more of that much needed rain.

Speaking of the garden and all things flowery, this time of year is absolutely gorgeous in Remi's greenhouse. Everything seems to be at peak bloom and there are still enough flowers on the benches to create waves of color everywhere you look. After a while I even get blasé about how beautiful it is.

Of course, just as Remi's parents did when he was a toddler, I have to take pictures of Juliette in all this glory. Whether she likes it or not.

Marigolds on the left, Jujuflower in the middle, begonias on the right.

Petunias right behind her, geraniums in the background. Her trusty "Doudou" bunny in her hand.

Took this picture using the timer function so it took me about five tries and Juliette did NOT understand the concept of sitting still while I fiddled with the camera. Blue lobelia flowers (my all-time favorite) and bidens, I think, the yellow ones.

In the garden patch I tend to at his parents' place, things are blooming quite nicely, too. I particularly like this combination of Lychnis coronaria, Nepeta and a rose bush. I can only take the credit for planting the Lychnis myself.

Lychnis have the fuschia flowers, Nepeta light purple, then the rose bush.

The days are long this time of year. The sun doesn't set till around 10 and we're approaching summer solstice in about a week. I love being able to go out on my balcony and water at 10 at night and still see everything clearly. It's true we have more energy when the sun's out with us. I daresay I even don't mind sooo much getting up early when it's already bright. Winter is a whole different story, and I'm already dreading it.

Maybe I'm also accutely aware of how these next three weeks are my last bit of "freedom" before my training starts. I'm trying to appreciate the time I've still got to putter and walk to the park with Juliette without worrying too much about studying. My mom will be coming a week from today (yeah!), and I know we'll have a blast. Once she leaves I'll plunge into my program, but for now I'll keep focusing on enjoying every moment.

Blissfully ignorant... and a bit scared

2011-06-04T13:57:00.002+02:00

Starting in July things are gonna change around here. I've been given financing to go back to school for a year. To study what? Stuff I kind of already know: biology/chemistry/lab techniques. But especially the latter I really haven't practiced in eight years. And it's been eating at me to not really use my US degrees here in France. I don't know that this program will open all the doors to me. But I feel it's better to do something than nothing (or to just whine). So in less than a month (yikes!), I'll be back in school, probably pulling my hair out trying to remember things that were simple to me when I was 18. Which was more than half a lifetime ago for me.

For now I can only imagine what the training will really be like (hence the blissfully ignorant part). I've been trying to review some things on my own, but I fear it won't be enough. Luckily most of my classes will be with other adults who are going back to school also (but some of them have had access to an official review session that my funding doesn't pay for).

Nevertheless I'm a little worried and scared about the whole thing. For several reasons:

*I'll be earning less money for a year. Even though tuition is paid (a good thing), my salary will not be at the same level it is now. Can you say sacrifices? Can you say tightening an already tight budget? I haven't been sleeping well just thinking about it all these past months.

*I'll have to really work! As in study my butt off. Which I don't know if I can do so easily since I'll still have to take care of Juju a good bit of the time. There might be weekends where Remi can help more, but I have a hard time imagining next spring when he works seven days a week and I need to cram for biochemistry.

*The training is pretty much eight hours a day, except Fridays when I think I'll finish a bit earlier. So Juliette will have to be in before and after-school care. And either spend some Wednesdays with Remi's mom or in the daycare. Because French kids don't go to school on Wednesdays. That's not so easy for working (or studying) moms to handle. I think the fact that I'll be seeing her less eats the most at me. I've been super lucky to be able to spend some afternoons or parts of mornings with her due to my weird work schedule (read: not many classes sometimes). But that will change. Remi will take her to before-school care in the morning, and I'll pick her up hopefully around 6:20. It'll be a long day for all of us.

But I'll have to bring out that famous adapting ability I'm not so good at. The transition won't be easy, but hopefully after a few months time we'll all find our rhythm. And it is, of course, for a good cause.

So I might be blogging less come July and reading your blogs less(though I'll sneak in a post or two, because I think I'll still need this outlet). But I know you'll understand. Ok, back to a bit of light reviewing (until I nod off...)

If these walls could talk

2011-05-31T15:46:00.008+02:00

What do my house and the objects around it say about me?

That when I defrost the freezer compartment it's a good opportunity to chill the wine.

That my husband thinks if he leaves the cookie package in the cupboard long enough, the cookies might regenerate themselves from the crumbs. To be fair, I'm guilty of this myself (but not as often).

That I like to make bouquets out of the leftovers my husband has from his job (this one came from wedding leftovers).

That somebody around here is learning to use the potty. We still have to prompt her to do it. The stickers are a reward. And she likes to put her stickers on top of each other.

That there's competition for the fleece blanket. (To be honest I had to get her to repose for this one because when I went off to get the camera, of course she had moved!)

That I'm obsessive about my window boxes. I love the hanging type plants. I prefer a mix of colors rather than just red geraniums.

And what do your houses/apartments say about you?

Sweet sounds

2011-05-28T13:09:00.003+02:00

When I first got to France I found some of the French music a bit too soft for my tastes. (This is not to say there aren't some rockin' French bands...) But I guess I've come to appreciate the softer side sometimes as well.

Take a listen to this song (C'est bientôt la fin) from the musical Mozart Opera Rock. It's really one of the most uplifting melodies I've heard in a while. Remi spotted the lyrics: "mets du fard sur tes idées pâles" (put some blush on your pale ideas). The images in the video mix modern day Paris with the characters from the past. Something about it all just kind of makes me happy about living in France. (Don't worry, I'll be back to complaining any moment now). Can't get it to be in its own youtube screen so you'll have to do it old school. PS: there might be an add before the song.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aS1SGkWoHec&feature=youtu.be

Enjoy.

Baby's got new shoes

2011-05-21T16:29:00.002+02:00

I can't resist another video. There's a lot of mumbling in here, so bear with it. She's mostly talking about the cat and his eating habits. And then she twirls her foot at the end to show you her shoe.

Bilingual update: she still speaks a lot of English with me and Remi (as she knows he understands both). There are just some phrases she continues to say in French even around me, like "c'est quoi?" (what is it?) or "donne" (give), "il est où?" (where is it?). There is some Frenglish at times, phrases that start in one language and finish in another: like, "Il est où my sock?"

There are some funny things she's still getting the hang of, like "my" which often becomes "mine". Like, "that's mine book". And she'll often say, "where are we over there?" when we're going to a new place.

She's definitely got that toddler tunnel vision of thinking that if she asks something enough times I will give in. When we pull into the parking lot of our apartment she often starts asking sweetly (and incessantly), "play in the grass, please?!"

It's still amazing for me to compare what she was like just a year ago. Zero to three (she'll turn three in July) have flown by. We visited her school Thursday and got a glimpse of he fun playrooms there. She couldn't sit still in my lap during our meeting with the principal. Let's hope my little Juju won't be a troublemaker. Mostly I hope she'll enjoy herself and the teacher will treasure her as much as I do.

Everybody loves a scandal

2011-05-18T13:43:00.003+02:00

This week in France we've been bombarded with news about the International Monetary Fund and potential Socialist Party presidential candidate who is charged with rape. I swear his face kept coming in my mind Monday as I tried to fall asleep. I know it's been big news in the US, too, but in France it's like they're almost taking it personally.

The unspoken feeling is that this politician, respected for his work, but already known to play around, is being "subjected" to the "rough" US justice system. The journalists kept saying it was shocking to see Dominique Strauss-Kahn taken out of the police station in handcuffs or looking so haggard in front of the judge in his arraignment hearing. The next day the French journalists corrected themselves and said, it's just a bit different compared to the French system.

About the situation as a whole, I swear they even used the word "tragedy". And they meant more for this man's career or the French political scene. Later they got criticized by women's rights groups for not talking enough about the alledged victim.

I suppose I can see where the French are coming from. It is shocking to see someone who had so much power and influence being treated like a common criminal. But if it's proven that he is really guilty, that's what he is. And I remember how they showed Michael Jackson's mugshot, or Lindsay Lohan during her court appearances. That's just the way we do it in the US. There aren't so many special privileges in court for celebrities. (Although he is being treated differently in prison, it appears.)

He is however, innocent till proven guilty. My students Monday had a doubt about whether we had this system in the US, but I said yes, of course. I also taught them timely words like "to be charged with a crime", "to be convicted", "to plead not guilty." They said, on the one hand it is a shame that someone who is intellectually brilliant may no longer be on the economic scene. He apparently was one of the only folks really getting some European countries out of their debt situations. But none of that matters if in the end he is proven to be a sexual psychopath.

I've also found it funny that if I go on the CNN site I can read the criminal report in English in all the gory details, details that I haven't heard on the French news so far (at least not on prime time).

And it does make me smile a bit that the US is now accusing the French press of being too lax with this man, just kind of ignoring the fact that he was a womanizer and probably harassing female journalists over the years. Part of me finds it a great comeuppance for the French society that has maybe been a bit too, "aww, don't make a big fuss, he's just keen on the ladies". The Latin lover attitude has taken a beating this week!

Despite all the information we've been getting, 57% of the French think it's a conspiracy against this man. That he was set up by his opponents. It crossed my mind, too, but the more I hear about the victim, I'm starting to doubt it.

At any rate, it's kind of amusing to see how my country and my adopted one are reacting to all this.

Let me be frank

2011-05-14T13:41:00.001+02:00

Author's Note: I'd published this Thursday night but Blogger had problems and removed posts published after a certain time of day Wednesday. Along with some comments, too! Sorry, Jennet and Deirdre. I did publish your comments on Abba-Mania but they disappeared. Also Crystal who had already commented on this post before it got wiped. Here's what I could piece back together from my post, as some of it was saved in draft form.

The French are known for being frank. Well, actually, no offense, but they're known for being rude. I'm starting to wonder if it's really just that they are brutally honest. And they think it's probably for your own good. Constructive criticism gone a bit too far. I'm sure I've told you already that Google in the Silicon Valley likes hiring Frenchies because they're not afraid to give their opinion and shake up things a bit. While this may be great in a creative environment like Google, it's not always welcome in my living room.

Picture it: last week after I'd prepared turkey burritos and plain cous cous that got way too sticky (I've got starchy food issues, sometimes. Maybe I should see a specialist.). While I was munching down on my tex-mex, saying, in Crystal style, love me some mild spicy food, I casually asked Remi what he thought of the meal. Not exceptional, he answered. I'm sure he could tell by the frown/raised eyebrow/evil stare down that his answer wasn't going down well. So he explained that he's not too fond of Mexican food.

Fair enough. But where I come from (smiley, friendly US of A), we would have said things differently. Like, well, it's not bad, but a bit spicy for me. Call it sugar-coating, if you like. But I, for one, like sugar. It helps the medicine go down (sing it with me, Mary Poppins fans: medicine go dooooown).

And it got me to thinking that perhaps his response was perfectly fine for a French marriage where each is used to this kind of honest exchange. Where talking about and criticizing food is a national passion (French food recently got UNESCO World Heritage Status). But in a mixed marriage like mine, it opens up worlds of misunderstandings and hurt feelings (on my side at least). I tried to tell him that, in a non-confrontational way, but it really bummed me out last week. I'm not trying to make this a husband-bashing post, (if I'd written it last week you could have felt the anger spittle on your side of the screen). But I'm wondering how many other cultural differences like this we'll keep discovering. And maybe others in mixed relationships like myself have some advice on how to deal with these things. We might discover world peace along the way. Who knows how many international conflicts could have been avoided if we'd just known that the smirk from the opponent was NOT an invitation to warfare.

Like Rodney King said back in the day, can't we all just get along?

Abba-mania, toddler style

2011-05-11T13:34:00.002+02:00

The surviving members of Abba have got nothing to worry about. They can keep collecting their royalties over the next few decades, because it seems their music appeals to the new generation just as much as to the kids from the 70s and 80s.

Note: no toddlers or stuffed bunnies were harmed in the making of this video.

Rhubarb!

2011-05-07T16:06:00.008+02:00

In case you've got rhubarb growing in your garden (or in my case, my mother-in-law sent a huge sack of the stalks home with Remi), here's a how-to guide for cooking them up.

1. Cut off the ends of the stalks. Here you see both uncut and cut to give you an idea.

2. Peel off some of the fibers by taking a knife and pulling up a bit of the ends. However, online I saw that not all methods call for this. I think it helps get some of the stringiness off though.

3. Cut up into pieces of about an inch or two long. Rinse once before cooking. Add water to cover the pieces and heat on high.

4. Cook until you can poke the pieces with a knife. Drain.

5. Basically just mash it up/stir it up. Add plenty of sugar to taste. It's totally sour without sugar! Serve with a yummy brownie that I'll give you the recipe for another time.

Bits and pieces

2011-05-05T14:25:00.007+02:00

As promised, here's a picture of the peony plant in bloom. It doesn't last long. Luckily I snapped a picture on Easter day because the blooms are already fading.

And a few things I wanted to share from my trip to the UK that I haven't yet gotten around to. Like this toy display from Boots, the upscale drugstore. I'm a bit disappointed at this sexist marketing. I'm sure they meant well, but since when are scientific toys only for boys?! Click to enlarge and see for yourself.

Here's a bridge named after my sister. Although she spells her name with a "y".

If you find yourself in Canterbury one day, I highly recommend a tour on the river. Especially the one by the company where handsome young English lads (click on the link to check them out) row you around while telling charming stories about the city.

We also experienced some of that famous British politeness. While waiting in line in Poundland, a new cash register opened up in front of me but I didn't notice. The young guy behind me said, "do you want to go to that one?" in such a polite and non-imposing way. Frankly, I'd forgotten what it was like to be in a land where people don't push and shove. I realized with a bit of shame that I'd just gone ahead when the register had opened up the day before in the same shop, not even asking the lady in front of me if she wanted to take it. It's something I would have done in the US, perhaps. So maybe there's no clearcut rule on this but it does seem the Brits are much more polite about these types of things.

Hard to believe it's already been about two weeks since our trip! Dad's now safely back in the US. It was great seeing him and I was glad for the company since Remi's been working like a madman in the garden center. Juliette still asks sometimes if we're going to see grandpa when I pick her up. Hopefully next year! Until then we'll remember the fun we had and plan on our next set of adventures. My mom should be coming in June so that's something to look forward to!

Hitting home

2011-05-02T15:22:00.004+02:00

I must take time out to be a bit more serious in this post. At the risk of bumming you out, I feel it's important to talk about an event that has affected me, but more importantly thousands of people from my home state of Alabama. No doubt you saw the horrific images on the news last week of the damage that a massive system of extremely strong tornadoes created. When my clock radio woke me on Thursday, incidentally the day my dad was leaving, they announced the death toll, at that time about 50. Now it's officially over 200 with 400 still missing and probably feared dead.

This is another moment when living away from your home can be tough. Even though there are times I may feel downright European, I will always be true to my roots and any time I hear the name of my state on TV, my ears perk up. And though no wind came through my little city in France, I can still feel the force all the way from here.

I almost didn't want to go online and look at the images or watch the videos. But I knew I needed to. My mom sent me a link to a weather blog done by the weather man I grew up listening to. The videos of the destruction made tears roll down my face. Catki jumped up in my lap at that moment and I was comforted to pet his silky head absently as I looked at the aerial footage of neighborhoods that have been sadly reduced to splinters. I can't imagine how horrible the loss is for those people. A house is one thing, a family member can never be replaced though. There are too many sad stories that leave us feeling helpless.

I feel even more so being far away. As my sister said, it's survivor guilt. Somehow we feel guilty that we aren't affected. And we start to wonder why. Again, even if I'm not living there, I felt a twinge of guilt walking down the streets of my town on a deliciously sunny day, knowing that my apartment and family were safe, but so many others in my state were suffering. My US family, by the way, were luckily not touched either. Where they live was not as damaged though trees did fall down.

When you grow up in the south, you get used to the threat of tornadoes. At school we practice tornado drills in addition to fire drills. We would go into the hallway and basically get in a crash position, squatting on our knees, heads down, arms and hands covering our heads. I can remember many a time getting up close and personal with the school linoleum on these occasions. And as I'm a spring baby and that's often the worst season for tornadoes, there were a few birthdays we spent watching the weather or even heading down to the basement of huddling in the bathroom (supposedly the safest room of the house if you don't have a basement). It's not stuff to be messed with.

But we live with it, just as the Japanese and Californians do with the threat of earthquakes, and the coastal towns live with the ominous possibility of hurricanes. And so I'm reminded, once again, that life hangs by a thread and shouldn't be wasted on complaining about stupid things. Or that even though "there's hell on earth/ there's heaven, too/and not a second to lose" (Neil Finn, from the album Time on Earth). Maybe that, beside giving a donation, is the best way I can honor those who didn't make it or are grieving now.

The day that will live in infamy

2011-04-23T16:43:00.008+02:00

Thursday evening, a sunny Canterbury tavern. These two pints are for my dad and me. And they are well-deserved after the day we had spent. (For the record mine is a slightly alcoholic pear cider (yummy), dad's an ale.)

Flash back in time to about four hours earlier. The scene of the crime (insert Law and Order bump-bump music here) was this peaceful medicinal garden on the grounds of Canterbury Cathedral. Or should I say formerly peaceful?

The victims, these mild-mannered visitors who seemed to be posing for some picture. I think they were part of a church choir.

The suspect (no, we know it was her!), this nearly three-year old who only moments before was singing and delighting visitors.

Until all he** broke loose. I had the bright idea to let her down to run around this lovely garden a bit. Which she did in the way only toddlers can, sprinting from her and there freely, grinning ear to ear. But we couldn't stay there forever. And she started darting under a little fence (the one seen on the right in this picture) and I feared she would get out of my reach. So I gently asked her to come on back and walk another way.

That's when she started screaming "no". And thrashing about. And turning wildly and slapping me if I tried to get close. Her hysterical screams breaking the calm of the gorgeous April day.

The choir crowd I'm sure was looking over and smirking or muttering, why can't they control that child. We tried everything in the book. From gently holding her arms back, to taking her into a quiet corner to calm her down, to a little pop on her leg to rouse her back into reality. And let me say I'm the type who reserves this for very bad moments indeed or when she's put herself into harm.

Nothing worked. We tried to put her back in her stroller (and it did take the two of us) but she started banging her head on the bar of the stroller. So I tried all of the above again. Finally I picked up my pride off the grass and held my squirming demon child and started walking. I motioned for dad to follow with the stroller. And we walked out of the courtyard and finally got her into her stroller and left the grounds. We're probably banished for life. She kept whimpering all the way back to the hotel.

And so over our pints and good English dinner, I asked my dad if I had ever had a tantrum that bad when I was a kid. He said yes, but luckily he didn't gloat. So this is your revenge day? I asked. Because earlier we'd been saying that one day Juliette would have a child and know what it was like to bear this kind of tantrum in public.

But seriously, people, I'm starting to think we've got a problem here. You know I love her to death, but when she's acting like this, frankly, I dislike her. And I'm mortally embarassed. It's one thing when she acts up at home and I can put her in her room. But in public, that's not possible. And she disturbs the peace and there's nothing I can do but leave.

Of course, afterwards she calms down, mutters sorry and things slowly go back to normal. But in the heat of it, nobody is happy.

Just before we left Dover to return to France, we saw a mom holding her screaming boy in the park. My dad and I exchanged glances. But we didn't judge her. We'd been there ourselves just a few hours before.

Dad's visit

2011-04-20T17:01:00.004+02:00

Oops, Mega-oops
There was a bit of a snafu at the beginning of dad's visit. I had asked my friend Caroline if she could pick him up at the train station as I was working at the time his train was to get in. But I said I wasn't positive he would get that train. I wasn't clear enough though and Caro thought I was going to call her once I heard that my dad had indeed landed. Only my dad's cell phone wasn't working when he touched down. In the end he got his train, but no one was there to pick him up. No hard feelings if you're reading this, Caro. It wouldn't be the first time I get into trouble thinking people can read my mind. Remi can attest to that. But all's well that ends well. Seasoned traveller that he is, my dad remembered the way to my place (though he didn't have the key). He rested in a park in the mild weather until I got home (er, about four and a half hours after his train got in).

I'm dreaming of sleep!
Juliette would decide to go wacky in her sleep when dad arrived. Waking and crying like she was in a nightmare. Virtually inconsolable. Then the cat started jumping on the door handle of the hall to get into our part of the house! Two or three nights of horrible sleep for everybody until we finally, begrudgingly, put the cat in the living room with dad. Catki sleeps on the couch with him or goes on to the balcony, and things are quieter.

It wouldn't be spring without...
Another childhood illness. Juliette ended up having conjunctivitis Monday and as I figured the sitter wouldn't want that in her house, I asked dad if he could watch Juju in the morning. I got an appointment with the doctor at midday and now she's got her treatment under way. Dad is quite helpful holding her while I give her the nose spray, or vice versa. She's almost to the point of not crying. Which is more than I can say for last Sunday...

The mother of all tantrums
That would be the day Juliette decided to say no to every l-i-t-t-l-e thing in the world. And cry and whine and turn her body in every direction. It broke the calm of our Sunday walk along this charming canal in the Somme. I'm sure the fishermen nearby were angry that she was scaring off the fish. I've never seen that girl cry and pout so much in one day. But I'm reluctant to pop her behind just when she's irritated, and it's hard to find a good time-out place in the outdoors. I'm getting used to the stares we get in stores when she goes all Exorcist on us. Could it be that she's turned into a bad child? We're still working on the discipline. Here you see her posing charmingly just before the bottom fell out.

Off to England
So we'll try a ferry-crossing and trip to Dover/Canterbury tomorrow with the dadster and Juju. A quick day and a half to soak up some English culture, tea and jolly accents. More later.

A day in the life

2011-04-15T13:28:00.001+02:00

Last Sunday I brought my camera along to take pictures of the garden. But of course I couldn't resist snapping some of Juliette. Most of the time it's hard to get her to stand still. And when I take a look at what I've shot her hat is covering most of her face.

But I keep on snapping away and sometimes, despite the sun nearly obliterating my view of the screen, I get some good ones.

Here you see her "house" made of a big cardboard box that we cut a door and shutters out of. It suits her fine so I don't think we'll be spending 200 euros on some plastic thing anytime soon. Though a cute wood cabin might be nice one day.

The oilseed rape plants are in flower. That's the plant used to make canola oil. The farmers who've got fields around Remi's greenhouses decided to plant that this year. Of course we had to take advantage of all that gorgeous yellow for some photo ops!

Next to her French grandma's border of bulbs (and she still wouldn't let go of her juice bottle).

Washing the garden chairs with papa.

"Driving" the car as we loaded it up to go to great grandpa's.

Putting her special stuffed animal in a mini-chair at great grandpa's house.

Dozing in the car on the ride home (since she didn't really nap correctly in the afternoon). All in a day's work for a toddler.

Plant post

2011-04-11T16:07:00.006+02:00

Every year I vow to make the flower garden at my in-laws into something more than the weed-infested patchwork that it is. And every year I end up falling far short of what I want to do. This area has been my pet project for about seven years. Remi had already planted some trees and perennials there before I came to France. One of my first summers here we created a little pebble path at my suggestion. When I say "we" did it, I should specify that he did 90% of the hard digging and hauling and I helped spread the pebbles and got us water to drink.

Since then, every year I add a few perennial plants or put some seed-grown annuals to create summer color. And though it is starting to fill up with plants, some of them are growing a bit too much (vinca, you know I'm talking to you), others not enough (black monkey grass, you are so slow!). And let's face it, as I mentioned last year, watching a toddler properly requires ALL my attention, so there are some limits as to what I can get done in this garden.

Some things are successes like the peony plant that has come back every year and has a good number of buds on it this year (will post photos when it's in bloom). The daffodils are multiplying nicely. You can see Juliette standing next to the lambs' ear plants (Stachys byzantina). Back in the days that I would peruse gardening books in the US, I became enchanted with the common name of this one. It's true the pale green leaves are soft and fuzzy. It has spikes of small light purple flowers in the summer. It can get a bit invasive though.

A new addition is the Cornus alba "sibirica", with its characteristic red brances which make our grey winters a bit less dull. I've been wanting one of these for a while, and the good thing about having a garden center owner for a husband is that I can take plants at will from his stock!

My goal is to have it looking something like an English border garden and to one day (!) put tags on everything so that Remi's clients could walk through and be informed about cool plants.

But for now at least, this garden is mostly a mix of haphazard choices. Filling spaces with the odd perennials and trying to win the war against the ugly thistle plants and stinging nettles. Before Juliette came into our lives I would painstakingly paint a leaf or two of those weeds with Roundup and let the herbicide do its thing. But now I don't use any chemicals in this garden and just use my arm power to pull things up. It's not always so succesful but sometimes parking myself in a sunny corner and weeding is a nice way to spend an hour (while Juliette naps safely indoors).

But I'll never get all those weeds. I suppose, like all things in (my) life, I'm going to have to accept this garden with its imperfections.

April brings...

2011-04-09T17:55:00.003+02:00

...not so many showers, actually. It's been unseasonably warm and deliciously sunny. Most people aren't complaining considering how sun-starved we usually are here. But my husband's worried the pansies will spring up too much and get gangly which is not good for sales. Plus he does have to water an awful lot in the greenhouses. Juju and I are enjoying lovely strolls though.

...U.S. taxes. I'm really not sure if I should even bother doing them considering my income is always below the limit that would require me to pay taxes. But I do it anyway, generally the week before (uh, that would be right about now). Maybe I like to feel connected to my fellow Americans so I go through the inane process of filing that 1040 all the same. Any other US expats know if we really are supposed to do it?

...a visit from my dad! It's becoming an annual tradition to see him in April, and we're certainly looking forward to it. I'll still be working most of his visit but things might slow down a bit as the school holidays are approaching. We hope to get away for a little sightseeing, maybe even a ferry ride over to England as our plans got spoiled last time by that pesky volcanic dust cloud! Juliette will get to connect to another US relative and converse in English with someone besides me!

...a probable visit to the vet for Cat-ki. He's due for a vaccine and lately he's been peeing in the hall or by the tub or in the tub a time or two during the week. I'm tired of cleaning it up. Plus he's packed on the pounds (again) since we've started leaving his food bowl filled instead of giving him four meals a day. His constant whining was driving us crazy. I'm sure we'll get a talking to from the vet but she doesn't have to live with him!

...Glee, finaLee! Officially it started running in late March, but I didn't realize it till last weekend. I've watched some episodes now in English (!) and I'm hooked. My mom and sister have only been telling me about it for a year and a half. I knew it must be good if they like it but before I would have had to go on streaming sites that make my computer just get a migraine.

...and April has already brought a girls' nights out. Sitting in a terrace café with a kir (chilled white wine with a touch of raspberry liqueur for me) with the girls under a gorgeous blue evening sky! And giggling like school girls over Italian food. I may be married but I will always need my girlfriends for a bit of that giddy fun that only girls can understand!

A little person lives here

2011-04-06T13:01:00.011+02:00

A little person lives here.

And her toys cover every surface.

Her little shoes line the walls (these are only about half of them).

I'm a giant next to her. For she can make a feast at the end table.

And because she's little she can get away with wearing candy-striped tights and hats with cat ears.

She can play endlessly with bouillon cubes.

But is equally at ease with her mommy's toys.

A little person lives here, but she's growing every day.

One day she'll be a big girl. One day she'll move away.

But for now she lets me share her world. And my life will forever be better because of my little girl.

What you should know about France

2011-04-01T06:43:00.004+02:00

First of all, thanks to my readers for your advice and sympathy about my last post. I knew I could count on you guys to help me out. Still nothing resolved on the living front, but we're still talking.

Meanwhile, I'm taking a leaf from Oneika's blog. Here's what the guidebooks don't always tell you about one of the world's most popular tourist destinations.

1. Some of those stereotypes are true. I have seen folks carrying baguettes as they bike back home. I have seen old guys wearing berets. The French are obsessed with food. They do dress pretty well (sweatpants in the grocery store are rare). Some (not all) think deoderant is optional. Note to you guys: rethink that one.

2. Saying goodbye can take forever. There are so many polite expressions that sometimes I think it will never end as I try to leave the babysitter's or even just the baker's. There's au revoir, of course, which is basically goodbye. But then they'll add bonne journée (have a good day). And I say merci (thanks). And then they say à demain (see you tomorrow) or à bientôt (see you soon). And sometimes I get lost and start saying au revoir again.

3. They do the "bises". These are the famous cheek kisses. They can be in the morning to say hello to colleagues (girls and girls kiss or girls and guys kiss; guys shake hands- see #5). Or to say goodbye at the end of a visit with relatives or a party. Another reason saying goodbye can be long. Imagine a party of 15. At the end you need to start kissing five minutes before you really want to leave. I prefer waving myself and sometimes I do that. The number of kisses depends on the region you live in and your familiarity with the person. In my region it's four. But sometimes we just do two. You're left in mid-air if you're expecting more and the other person stops. In Belgium I hear it's three. French companies thought of suspending the "bises" ritual during the H1N1 flu scare. Mine said, no, we won't let some potentially deadly flu virus stop us from kissing cheeks!

4. Bonjour (hello) is just about as laborious as goodbye. Don't forget to say it, of course. Many a time I've gone up to a salesperson and said, "Excusez-moi" and I start explaining my problem. They then say bonjour (hello). I don't know if they're chastizing me for not starting my sentence with hello or just making sure they get it in there. My mom was indeed chastized in the Charles de Gaulle airport because in her pride and haste to get out her French question she forgot bonjour. The baker got onto a young boy for forgetting to say it and just directly asking for his baguette. On dit bonjour d'abord, she said to him. We say bonjour first. By the way, salut (hi but it can also be bye) is very informal and generally not used the first time in a business situation.

5. If you're at work or school don't forget to shake hands after you've said bonjour (or kiss, see #3). I generally shake hands with all my students at the beginning and sometimes the end of a lesson. Not so good for disease transmission either. I even shake hands with my doctor. I hope he's washing between patients...

6. Dodge that poop. Amber hit the nail on the head or the poop on the... (no, I won't try to make a pun here). There is way too much dog poop on the sidewalk. For a country that prides itself on its beautiful cobbled streets and picturesque lanes, there are a whole bunch of people who really don't give a sh** where their dogs poop and don't bother to clean it up. My town has distributors with sacks and special areas in parks for pooping pups. There are even fines of 35 euros if you're caught not scooping. But I've gotten used to dodging, just like Amber, because most people have not gotten the message. Oh, and watch out for the dog urine puddles, too.

7. Men pee anywhere. While we're on the subject of bodily fluids, it seems that men here are totally uninhibited when nature calls. This is perhaps not just limited to French men. Remi will do it in an alley or on a brick wall. The gas stations don't always have restrooms here so men (and sometimes women) will just go where they can. I'm gonna start a campaign for more public restrooms, especially since my little one will hopefully soon be potty-trained. Frankly there are not lots of restroom and kid-friendly places in my town.

8. "No thank you" is confusing here. I remember one of my first awkward meals at Remi's parents' place when my French was still limited to about ten words. His mom offered me more of something and I said, non, merci. The equivalent of "no thanks" in English, I thought. She hesitated a bit and looked to Remi for confirmation. Here they often just say merci with a little hand movement to say "no thanks, I don't want anymore". So if you say "thanks", merci, and you do want more, they might think you don't! I'm still not sure I've got it right, come to think of it. Please correct me if I'm wrong!

9. If you want free water, ask for une carafe d'eau. This will save you in those pricey restaurants. If you just ask for water : de l'eau, you'll probably get a bottle of Evian and the bill to go with it. Une carafe d'eau is just a bottle of tap water and free.

10. If you go shopping here, don't forget a coin and your own sacks. To get a cart, you must insert a one-euro coin or a token that is the very same shape in the cart to free it from the rack. Some supermarkets don't give you plastic bags but they do sell them. It's always a good idea to have your own bags. I just put all my stuff in a rolling suitcase once I get to the car.

And that, my friends, should get you by for a while. If some of you are more versed in French than me and disagree with my translations, I'm happy to hear what you think.

Location (location, location!)

2011-03-30T13:29:00.001+02:00

I think new couples should ask each other right off the bat where they want to live in the future. On the dancefloor if need be. "Hey, do you come here often? And would you prefer a flat in the city or a country house?" Because, people, it is a Big Issue. When you're still in the hazy golden phase of your relationship you think you could live anywhere and, as long as your beloved were there, everything would be fine and dandy. You're not thinking clearly. You're not thinking about is it in a good school district? Or will the roads be accessible if it snows? Or is there a bakery in the town?

I know I've talked about it before. And bugged my friends about it. And my mom. And my husband, too, of course. But it's still an issue. That thorny question of where we will live. One day when we have sufficient incomes to buy, that is. We're already compromising now living in between our jobs. And renting. But Remi's always made it clear that he hates the city. And even a small city such as where we currently live is the object of his hate. His dream is the smallest of small towns. But said small town is far from job opportunities for me, far from shops, hospitals. I honestly have a hard time seeing myself living there. And that's where the problem begins.

I suggest the word "compromise" again. As in, somewhere between our current town and his place of business. Which would likely mean more driving for me, that's true, but not as much as if we lived in said small village. But we don't seem to be speaking the same language, be it in French or English. We're hitting a brick wall and it's not that of our hypothetical new home.

Where you live does matter. As an expat I'm already uprooted in every sense of the word. I guess I'm a bit picky about where I want to plant myself again. But I have a right to say that this place pleases me and this one doesn't. And sure, when I watch a documentary about poor Philipinos living under bridges and in cemeteries, I'm ashamed I ever complain about not having a garden or wanting a real bedside table. But does that mean I should never give my opinion at all? Accept anything knowing I probably won't be emotionally happy there? I'm not trying to be down on my husband here. Nor air my dirty laundry. I'm just trying to work out what I want and where I want to be. So, bloggers, advice is welcome.

What are the "musts" on your living place list?

Seven things

2011-03-26T15:41:00.002+01:00

So Crystal kindly tagged/nominated me for this little award. Aw, shucks! I'm getting all verklempt. If I understand the concept correctly (you know I am getting on in years), I'm supposed to link back to my pal. Then tell you seven things you might not know about me. And nominate a few others to do the same! So here we go.

1. I don't sleep so well. Even though I love sleep, I find myself waking up in the middle of the night, even when Juliette doesn't wake me! Then I start thinking of all the things I shouldn't: job worries, life worries, anything. My friend Caro says she often does the same so I know I'm not alone, but I wish I could turn my brain off sometimes!

2. I love blue things. Like my blue-themed kitchen. And blue glass bottles (my mom collects these, too). My bedroom was creamy light blue in my mom's house and I just adored the delicacy of it. Now we're renting an apartment and everything's white, but I hope we'll get to paint our own rooms one day!

3. I suffer from redhead-envy. My hair is something of a strawberry blonde, or what the French call "blonde vénitienne". It was redder when I was younger. But when I see a confirmed redhead on TV I'm generally quite jealous and wish my hair were darker. My most recent object of envy was the new Dr. Who sidekick, Amy Pond, with her lovely tresses. I have even dyed my hair once in my life with one of those quick wash treatments to make it flashier. But it only lasted a wash or two.

4. I love finding good deals at the thrift store. Most of my pants come from there. I now find it very hard to pay more than 15 euros (or dollars for that matter) for something if I know I can get it for 4.50 at the second-hand store.

5. On the subject of clothes, I've got some stuff I'd consider flashy or trendy but sometimes I'm hesitant to actually wear it. I feel a bit self-conscious even if I think I look decent in them. But I'm slowly breaking out of that and wearing the red coat Remi got me a few Christmases ago. I've also got plenty of skirts and dresses but even when the weather's warm I generally just wear pants.

6. I can be outrageously campy. I like to sing Tom Jones' songs in a swingy voice. Try it and I think you'll agree it's extremely liberating. It's not unuuusual to be loved by anyone...Or how about this one: she's a lady, whoahoooo, she's a lady!

7. I was a real study geek in high school and college. On a typical Saturday night I was in my dorm room studying for next week's organic chemistry test while the rest of the world was out on a date. Some good it's done me because I'm not a doctor of chemical engineer.

Now I'd like to tag Jessamyn, and no, there's no nepotism going on here.
And a new blog I recently discovered, The Many Colors of Happiness.

So if you're game girls, let's hear your seven things...

Proof!

2011-03-24T13:40:00.002+01:00

A while back I wrote about my own Internet addiction. Turns out I wasn't that far from the truth. This scientist studied what happened when she asked college students not to use their cell phones or Internet for 24 hours (a REALLY long time). They had to keep a journal about how they felt and many used terms that one would associate with addiction and seemed to have some real withdrawal type symptoms.

What's funny is that on the CNN site you can also recommend the video via your Facebook account and here I am blogging about it. But I kind of agree with what they say at the end, that we do need to make sure there are moments of the day we are NOT connected (except for when you're reading my blog, of course) and are really interacting. I bet this lady is also sponsoring that unitasking seminar...

Try to remember

2011-03-22T20:47:00.011+01:00

There's a coffee commercial here where they use this song with the words, "Try to remember when life was so tender." As spring warms things up and the days are longer, I remember a bit more easily what I enjoy about France. I think of my first spring here and my first visit to Paris in April of that year with my sister and Remi. When every new sensation in this country was wondrous. Nearly nine years later I've still got some "beefs" with this country, namely about professional opportunities for foreigners and sometimes about what I'd call some French "stodgy-ness", but I'll try to focus on those tender moments.

And to help do that, here are some pictures from a Saturday stroll with Juliette that show some of my favorite things around town in this season.

Not many trees have their leaves yet. I'm a sucker for interlacing branches and the sky was just beginning to clear after an overcast morning.

A cool but scary door with those bare vine branches around it. To add to my door photo collection.

Along with this one. Love the oval window above it.

Nice crusty bread in a bakery. I do love the bakeries here.

Daffodils and white grape hyacinths in front a florist's shop.

Lovely facades.

Market day. Maybe a bit early for good tomatoes but I love looking at all the gorgeous colors.

Juliette giving me her pleading to hold the digital camera on the way home.

Multitasking is hazardous to your health AKA How I've ruined many a meal

2011-03-19T14:53:00.004+01:00

The following is a true story. Mealtime, my apartment last night. I had the zuchinni, turkey and shallots simmering. Juliette seemed to be content in the living room. So I start kneading the bread. Don't mistake me for Martha Stewart. It's actually pure laziness that has me making bread. By buying the packs that are meant for the breadmaker machines but doing it by hand myself, I don't have to go to the bakery or store when I realize we're all out of bread. It really doesn't take that long to measure out the flour that's already got the yeast incorporated inside then add water, stir (Juju helps with that), then knead. Except that it's so very sticky and my hands are very gooey during this process.

It was at this precise moment that Juliette decided to disconnect the Flip Camera that was charging via the computer. I didn't want her messing with it so came into the living room with my doughy hands and tried to direct her to another "toy". The digital camera. Technology is the new pacifier. Besides, I had the feeling she was going into tantrum mode. So I directed her to turn on the camera by touching the little button, but explaining how to get in view mode so she could scroll through the pictures was more difficult. I was pointing to the appropriate buttons with my dough-caked fingers. We got it all figured out though and I went back to check on the simmering food. Decided to add some herbes de Provence, basically a mix of dried thyme, to the zuchinni/turkey mix. But I didn't want to wash my hands because I would lose all the dough on them. So I (stupidly) added the herbs with my clumsy hands and so the dosing was a bit heavy. Not to mention this would give us the sensation of eating food that's been rolled in sawdust.

All this to say that trying to do two or three things at once is sometimes counterproductive. My French driving teacher told me that if you try to do two things at once while driving you'll certainly screw one of them up. And in our increasingly multitasking world, I wonder if we're becoming more absent-minded and if sometimes quality is sacrificed. How many meals have been compromised because I thought I could check my email while the pasta cooked. Only to have overcooked pasta. Who knew 7 minutes went by so fast? I'm starting to use the timer more now...

But as a parent you have to multitask anyway. Get the carrots steaming then give the baby her bath while they're cooking. Drive and fish out baby's stuffed animal out of the bag to stop her whining in the backseat. Eat your own dinner while creating new distractions to make your child eat her own. It never stops.

And computers really do tempt us to multitask anyway, with the multiple tabs you can open in your navigator and screens you can toggle back and forth to. The danger is forgetting why we originally went online or turned on the computer in the first place.

I saw a French comedian saying that "unitasking" was in. Maybe it's not so far from the truth. Will there soon be seminars for overwhelmed executives where you check your smartphone at the door? And they'll have sessions called "Baking an apple pie from scratch." They'll use a real cookbook instead of a cooking website to find the recipe. And nobody will check their email while the pie cooks. Hmm, doesn't sound like it's for me.

We're not in Kansas anymore (or Alabama for that matter)

2011-03-14T10:46:00.004+01:00

As I said in my last post, those "bad days" of mine are really just an accumulation of annoyances. Nothing serious (luckily). I try (and try again) to keep it all in perspective. But I can't always get it through my thick skull that my current problems are just little flies to be buzzed away. Last week I found myself swatting one of those problems around and getting myself into a fluster. I'm feeling calmer about it now so I'll share the pros and cons with you.

We're soon going to be leaving the cozy world of the babysitter and enter the puppy-eat-puppy world of pre-school. It's not an obligation in France but since the sitter we have is part of an association that only takes children until the age of 3, we have to find an option come September. So I called the town hall to find out what pre-school we're zoned for. Then I asked the pharmacists at my local pharmacy about it as they both have young children. They had some less than glowing things to say about this particular school in terms of its education level. One pharmacist switched her child to private school and found he was learning more there. The other option is to ask the town hall that an exception be made and Juliette could go to the other school not far from us which apparently has a better reputation. But also a huge number of students per class 'cause everyone wants their child to go to it!

So I did as I always do in these types of situations. I asked everyone around me for advice. The sitter said, well, you know those first years are very important. Remi said the same. But I went to public schools for part of my education and have always had faith in them. I know there are some with problems but I don't like the idea of mixing them all in the same label. My mom and aunt teach in what are considered at risk schools and I know they are both excellent teachers. It's not that the teachers are "bad" in "low" schools. It's that they've got maybe more difficulties to work with than teachers in upper-class neighborhoods where the parents are super-involved. And that no matter how hard the teachers try, some kids have got hardships that are going to affect their schooling.

Ok, I'll step off my soapbox, but my democratic ideals make me feel strongly about this. I basically gave Remi the same speech, to which he replied, but this isn't America. Oh, and don't I know it. He is French and has lived here all his life, so maybe he does know a bit of what he's talking about. Maybe some public schools in France are less than stellar. Maybe the public schools go on strike more (that one is true, I know). But I know plenty of my students who send their kids to public schools and are satisfied. Public doesn't equal low quality.

And though private may be in Juliette's future if we found that her middle or high school was really in poor shape or had problems with violence, I don't necessarily like the idea of putting her in a crowd we can't compete with so early in life. Call it the anti-snob in me but I worry (already) that she'd be mixing with les enfants des riches, kids whose parents can offer them fabulous vacations in the summer, autumn and winter. Things we just can't do. But then again, that's the way life is. If she doesn't learn it at school, she'll learn it later in life.

And then I rail against the idea that private is inherently better. Maybe the schools do have more money and fewer kids per class, but that doesn't mean the education is in fact higher quality. And I don't like the idea that a good education is only reserved for those who can pay for it. Doesn't this destroy our idea of public education and education for one and all? Oops, I guess I put that soapbox up too quickly.

And so at not even three years old, our child is already facing reality. That life is not always fair. That the differences of inequality have already started. But for now at least, she'll be a public school girl with parents who invest their time in her education. And that's the best start in life we can give her.

Milam's horrible, no good, very bad day

2011-03-11T15:54:00.005+01:00

*Disclaimer*: I published this post before I'd really watched the news today. The title is in reference to a children's book. Of course, in light of all the real tragedies in the world today (earthquakes, tsunamis), I know my own little day is nothing in comparison. Please don't take it too seriously. And my heart goes out to all those really suffering today.

File this under days like these...Yesterday (especially the evening) was one frustrating moment after another. First of all it was a frankly weird work day (driving to a lesson for a lady who it turns out is on maternity leave) and nearly not having any voice anyway (lingering sinus crud after my cold). Then picking up Juliette and doing the grocery shopping. Have you tried not using your voice with a toddler? Not possible when you must constantly say things to distract her from a tantrum, like ooh, look at that baby over there or, please don't unhook the strap on the shopping cart 'cause you might fall out.

And there were those three ear-piercing scream-fests she had when she didn't get her way. Good news is I'm starting to feel less embarassed when it's my child who's screaming because really, what can I do? There are no "corners" to put her in. I sometimes turn the shopping cart around and pretend like I'm going to walk away, but of course, I can't. I tell her everyone's looking at her and that seems to make her cry more. I blow in her tear-stained face and she just gets annoyed. Sigh.

Once at home she wanted to try out her new potty seat that fits on the real toilet. But once she was on it she started touching everything she shouldn't, like the toilet brush and the toilet paper dispenser on the wall. Breathe in, breathe out. No pee pee this time but success is counted in the time she actually sits on the thing.

And the cat. A colleague recently told me that animals (including humans) are affected by the dusk time of day. We're a bit hyper and jumpy. Catki is living proof of that. After assaulting us when we got in for food, he promptly threw it up on the bamboo type rug. Then started meowing/yowling for more food. Again, I had to use my non-voice to try to shoo him away and allow me to cook in the kitchen. Seems like he wanted food three times in two hours or we couldn't get any peace. I felt like showing him the pointy end of the knife I was using to cut the potatoes. Rest assured, I didn't.

Seems like my bad day continued some today with me having to get a bit assertive with the repair technician on the phone about a repair that should have been done back in 2009 on Juliette's window.

Him: But you should have informed the agency when you moved in.
Me: But we didn't notice it in we moved in. (Note: we only discovered a few months after moving in.)
Him: But you could just be saying that.
Me: Sure, but I'm not just saying that.

Lucky for me I'm learning to talk back to snippy French people. And I think my "sexy" cold voice make me more convincing.

Better luck tomorrow.

What a girl needs

2011-03-09T13:24:00.001+01:00

Not to be confused with the similarly titled Christina Aguilera song (which I must admit I like). This post is actually more serious than that. As a mom to a little girl, I often think about what I need to give my daughter. I don't know how I would be if I had a son. But I think since Juliette and I are the same gender, I instinctively think a bit more about what tools a girl should have to get on in this world.

I think number one on my list would be confidence. Unfortunately for Juju, her mom is sorely lacking in this characteristic. There are some days when I do walk with confidence and speak firmly with the knowledge that I'm right about this or that. But at nearly 37, I've still got some confidence-building of my own to work on. So how to instill it in a 2 and a half year old? It's in the little things, I think. Like when we do a puzzle together I encourage her to try and try again. And to not get bent out of shape if it doesn't work the first time. I celebrate her successes, like matching two cards in Memory or nearly drawing the letter "J". And I can see her face light up with pride at those moments.

Also high up there on the list would be valuing her abilities. This is similar to confidence, but it's also about showing her that she's worth something because she can do things and figure things out, not just because she's a "pretty little girl". Even from her earliest days I found myself keeping some kind of mental tally about saying "pretty girl" and "smart girl." Of course, every girl likes to hear that she's pretty (and, all prejudice aside, I think she is). But it's just as important for her to hear that she's smart and capable. That she can be a beauty queen if she wants, but that her brain is important, too.

I'm not a flaming feminist (not that there's anything wrong with that), but I also want her to know she doesn't have to fit a set idea of what a girl should be. Hence my ranting about the "girl toys" that are all about cleaning. She can be impressed with the big trucks on the road and then ooh and aah about a baby doll. She can do both. When we read the toy catalogs together I try not to get fixated just on the doll pages with her. That said, if she wants Barbies later on, that's no problem.

But where's the dad in all this? Yes, he counts too. He counts a lot. I also try to make sure Remi is complimenting her on all her accomplishments and that they spend some of that precious quality time together. He's not around so much in the spring, but I encourage him to make his time count with her. There's a fine line to this because I don't want to be a nag but a girl's self-esteem is intricately linked to her dad. So if he's there for the bedtime story and she's sitting still on papa's lap, I feel like it's a good day for them both.

Maybe it's not essential but I hope she'll find an activity she can enjoy outside of school, be it something physical or more on the creative side. There again, it's hard for a parent not to push nor let the child bully them into doing a million after-school activities just because their friends are. But swimming or piano or whatever it may be will hopefully help a girl (or boy for that matter) develop most of the things I mentioned above, confidence and pride, especially.

As I've said before, I'm no super mom and I certainly don't have all the answers. But I'm trying to give my girl the best, just like any parent.

So whether you're a mom or not, a girl or not, what do you think is essential for a child growing up today?

Where did the day go?

2011-03-05T17:16:00.005+01:00

Sometimes I'm ashamed at how a perfectly fine Saturday disappears and I have little to show for it. Today I've been up since 6:20 (thanks Juliette) but still I don't feel that I've been all that productive. Unless showering, doing the dishes and getting laundry done counts. Yes, I'm inclined to think it does, because if it's not something that can get done itself, then somebody's got to do it. And getting the non-perishable groceries out of the car and lunch on the table. But more often than not my Saturdays are a frantic mixture of email checks, blog checks, chocolate square breaks, light housework, some puzzles and reading with Juliette, bit of work prep but not that much, nap (for me!)...I could go on but the insignificance of it all is starting to make me question my existence. But Saturday is for relaxing, you say? I agree, and I'm still recovering a bit from my monster cold. But considering how little I do in the week lately, the weekend doesn't seem that much different.

And sometimes our modern life is made up of all these tasks that seem pointless but need to be done. Like going through all those digital photos from September 2009 and deciding which to print. This can take ages and to the careless observer may simply seem like I'm looking at pictures. But in reality it's like playing Memory and trying to remember which pictures look quite similar or are duplicates. Even though I arrange the photos by date for some reason they never seem to stay that way. Hence the time-consuming task. Similarly there's the cleaning out of the email in-box and deciding which messages must be kept.

But I guess if I'm blogging about this there must be a point, right? Not really. I guess I'm just trying to feel like I actually spend my days doing something. As an English teacher of adults sometimes I wonder if I'm really getting through to my students and there can be days I feel like I've just been shooting the breeze. Then I come home and interact with my child and spend too much time on the Internet. And get up the next day and do it all over again! Maybe I do need to cut back on the constant web checking, as Jennet suggested a while back. But you know what, sometimes I need to hear from people or read about other people to feel connected. Especially since my husband's working more lately and my own family is across the ocean. Justifying, I know.

Ok, so this post isn't a total waste (too late), here are the pictures- before and after- of Miss Juju's hair cut.

BEFORE

AFTER

What, you can't see it? In fact it was her first maintenance trim for split ends. Her sitter said I ought to give her a little clean-up and I had to admit the ends were getting kind of raggedy. She has a tendency to curl and it gets kind of fine. I was rather scared to do it myself but I think it will help it be a little neater now. First cut in her life. I saved the fine pieces in an envelope. So there, I was productive today!

Getting well

2011-03-02T15:43:00.004+01:00

An average of four cups of hot tea a day.
What seemed like an eternity to take all my medicine in the morning and before bed.
An insane amount of Vicks Vaporub under my nose.
Generous helpings of chicken soup, Ritz crackers and Jello (my go-to sick foods).
About four and a half days of feeling like a Mack truck had hit me.
One sick day taken.

What does it all add up to? The big fat end of winter cold that wreaked havoc on me all weekend and Monday. I'm not sure what it was but my doctor said it was going down to the bronchial tubes. I was shivering with the fever. The pediatrician (for now Juju's got something akin to it) said my symptoms sounded like the flu. I'm crossing my fingers big time that Juliette's doesn't get as worn out as I was, but she's got the fever aspect.

Being sick is a weird place to be. You slow down because you have no choice. This time I was really zapped of energy and even something like giving Juliette a bath seemed to take an amazing amount of effort. Remi helped me out the best he could but he's got more work lately. Sunday he did all the essential cleaning and cooking and he's continued doing the dishes in the morning. After sleeping so poorly Sunday night I decided not to work Monday and my body thanked me for it. When Juliette napped, I did, too, and I felt like a new person.

Tuesday I went back into the real world, which seemed so bright and noisy compared to the quiet cocoon I'd been living in. I almost blinked to be sure I was in reality sitting there with my students as the lesson began. Was I really going to be able to lead and correct these folks with a coughing fit threatening to explode every minute? Luckily they were talkative and I got away with minimal intervention.

Now my appetite's coming back and I can do normal household tasks without getting too tired or weak. And I must concentrate on getting my little one through her own cold. I'm on my second sick day (but for her sake this time) this week. Remi couldn't stay home nor could his mom watch her this time. So another lesson lost for me but my little girl needed me. That's what moms (and sometimes dads, when they can) are for. Which is why they've got to keep their own strength up!

To ski or not to ski

2011-02-26T15:17:00.004+01:00

Don't get me wrong. I honestly don't hate people who happen to go skiing in the Alps for a week. (Maybe I'm secretly a little jealous of you!) It's just that to hear some French people talk, a skiing trip in late winter is a birthright. We have to watch report after report of people frolicking in the snow all winter. I just don't feel like hearing about your trip afterwards. Here are a few reasons why:

1. I don't want to know how great the weather was. That brilliant blue sky at three thousand feet and the fresh powdery snow. How you ate fondue outside on the balcony and even got a tan. More than likely I'll have been experiencing more of the monotonous grey weather I've become accustomed to down here at 0 feet elevation. No barbecue outside for us in late February. So, just keep it to yourselves, please.

2. I don't know the difference between all those different slopes and the color-coding and what not. I only know the bunny slope is probably the place I would start and never leave if I ever ski. Which more than likely won't happen because I'm an 11 on a Clumsy Scale of one to ten. Which brings me to reason #3.

3. Skiing is dangerous. Ok, so it's not really a reason, but my personal observation. I've heard quite a few stories about people who've broken their legs the first time out. And unfortunately there have been some tragic situations of children getting in accidents on the various ski machinery or bumping their heads during a fall. Please wear a helmet out there and make sure your backpack doesn't get stuck on the ski lift.

4. I don't know all the vocabulary to describe the above contraptions to transport your skis and you and whatever is necessary up there on the mountains. It's a nightmare when my students look at me questioningly for a translation of "tire-fesses", literally a "butt puller"?! In fact it's just another name for a ski lift, but look how you distracted me with that one.

5. Because it seems everybody and their brother goes skiing (and if they have children it must be in the school holidays), a number of shops and services close in my neighborhood. That's why this morning I had to go to a different doctor to get my fever-inducing cold looked at. Then backtrack (in the rain) to my regular pharmacy that luckily doesn't close till this evening at 6 for their own annual winter holidays week.

Sorry for that rant. I didn't mean to be hard on you powder-loving folks. As I said, maybe I kind of want to be you one day. But I'd opt for snow-shoeing instead of skiing and I'd probably go to one of the smaller family-friendly stations. And I wouldn't gloat about how energetic I felt afterwards (ok, not that much).

The most tolerant and annoying cat in the world

2011-02-25T19:09:00.003+01:00

Tolerant

Annoying (but cute).

This is when, like all cats, he wants out, then immediately wants right back in. Note: this video is not from this season, for the plant buffs who are noticing the geraniums in the window boxes.

What charming and annoying qualities do your pets have?

Worry, chocolate and sunny days

2011-02-21T15:34:00.001+01:00

Worry poisons my existence. I wish it didn't. And I've been wishing that for years. Sometimes I feel it eating away at my like a parasite in my stomach. No amount of fretting satisfies it. It keeps asking for more and more of my attention until I don't feel "right" if I haven't worried sufficiently about something. I read something interesting the other day. That sometimes spending twice as much time (or we could say worry) on something generally only adds 1% of value to the end result. That perfection is unattainable anyway so we should learn when something is "good enough". I'm gonna try and put that in to practice. But in the meantime, any remedies for kicking the worrying habit? Mine lately seems to be an obsessive need to read other people's blogs to see if any of them are experiencing the same life situations as me. It's more than my normal Internet addiction.

And when I'm nervous (or bored or breathing), I eat chocolate. Please tell me I'm not the only one. But the last two days as I took my Dove milk chocolate pieces (just two, thank you very much. Or three, or four.), I started to think the candymakers were mocking me. Because look what the inside wrapper said the last two times:

Didn't they know when they packed that bag that I would be experiencing two gray, foggy, blah days in a row? For the record we are now on day four sans sun. So definitely no basking in the glow for me. We had one gloriously sunny day last week and it was amazing how people just seemed to be in the best of moods. But these types of days are awfully rare in my region of France (the North-Pas de Calais). And I've got the stats to prove it. Lille, the main city in this region, is on the top (or bottom?) three of those cities with the lowest number of hours per year of sun. You can see southern cities like Marseille and Nice have at least a thousand more hours of sun per year compared to my region. This is why so many doctors prefer to set up practice in the south of France. And for the record, my own city in the US is right up there with 2600 or so hours per year (albeit with the humid, stifling heat sometimes). I'm starting to wonder how I've survived this long in my new nearly sunless climate!

I think only the sweet powers of chocolate can console me after learning all this. And if I don't get an appropriate message in the wrapper this time I might have to eat the whole bag.

The world according to Juju

2011-02-19T14:52:00.003+01:00

I know I just wrote about my little one, but she's so darn funny lately. And alternately frustrating. Now that she's talking more, I'm getting an idea of what goes on in that toddler head of hers. And it's sometimes pure genius, sometimes pure insanity. Like how she only wants to wear the Pull-ups that have penguins on them. But there are also lizard ones in the bag so we often have "fights" getting her to wear those. I've taken to distracting her in any way I can so she'll let me put them on. Yes, she's still in diapers as the potty is not her thing. Sometimes when I ask her to sit on it she'll say, "no, gonna change you", but in fact she means "change me" (just change the diaper).

She gets very attached to things in general. I let her wear her kitty shirt under her sweaters a couple of days in a row (hey, it's not like she sweats that much) because she puts up a big fight when I try to take it off. Of course, bathtime is a good reason to change clothes anyway. She's very willing to get in the tub but getting out is another thing. I have to bodily lift her out most times and she squirms all the way till her feet touch the bathmat.

But on the more precious side there was that evening last week when she saw the moon rising and said in Frenglish, "Mommy, donne la moon." Mommy, give (me) the moon. Or when we're at a red light and she pushes her hands in front of her and says, "moob" (move) so insistently as if it could really work. And lately when she sees trikes in catalogs she nearly moves her leg to the paper and says in a near-whine, "get on!" Does she really think she can get on? I think the line between real and imaginary is quite fuzzy for toddlers. And it's going to be that way for a while, so I think I'll have to find yet more ways to distract her during those whiny moments.

Romance isn't dead

2011-02-14T16:01:00.003+01:00

I've never been very big on Valentine's Day. This could be from my many years of being single. Or that I totally resent how the stores bombard us with red and pink hearts and cheaply printed cards. Or that roses jump up in price so outrageously just in time for this Hallmark holiday. Now that I am in a relationship I do try to honor the day by making Remi a meal and perhaps buying him chocolate. Before Baby (BB) we sometimes went out to a restaurant. And though I do get a bit miffed if my husband fails to do at least a small gesture for the day, I'd definitely fall into the camp of those who say Valentine's Day should be celebrated every day by the way you treat each other. As a sometimes nagging (or as I prefer to think of it: tell-it-like-it-is) wife, I probably am not living up to that idea either!

It's always struck me as odd that in France Valentine's Day is strictly for couples. You don't hear about schoolkids exchanging cards with all their little classmates or eating those insipid Sweet Heart candies. In the US you can send your mom a Valentine's Day card (heads up, mom, I didn't, but you know I love you bunches) or your sister or child, etc. Leave it to the French with their romantic reputation (true or not, I'll let you decide) to make V Day a purely romantic love day.

Perhaps I'm becoming more cynical with age and my swoony teenage years are growing dim in my memory. However I can still remember daydreaming as a teen of waltzing with some tall dark stranger or the bittersweet agony of Romeo and Juliet's final act. I suppose these things do still move me now, but I've gone a bit too practical.

Or have I? Lately I've been catching up (or should I say finally discovering) the warm and charming now cancelled TV show Pushing Daisies. Unfortunately we get it in French here but just a few scenes from the pilot that Remi found had me captivated. It's the story of a man who can wake the dead but must touch them again after one minute or something else will die in that person's place. It's complicated to explain, but anway, the show is deliciously quirky and the romance between the pie shop owner and his childhood sweetheart he brought back to life is well, swoony. Here's the trailer to give you a quick recap. It's filmed in a very Amélie type way, over-the-top imagery and luscious colors. Love the occasional singing numbers which don't make you feel too embarassed.

So here's to remembering the sweet, delicate moments in life, be they with your family or your other half. Who said romance had to be about skimpy lingerie and expensive meals. Maybe it's what you want it to be: appreciating the beauty of a foggy day or indulging in a decadent caramel chocolate with your eyes closed. And singing your heart out to cheesy love songs because it's good for you. Click on the link to hear one of the best!

Because even (Super)moms need sleep

2011-02-13T15:08:00.004+01:00

So I'm not really a supermom and would never claim to be. Any mom who really believes she is must only wait for the next explosive diaper or grocery store toddler tantrum to prove her otherwise. But sometimes I wish someone would give me a Supermom cape when I do things like parallel park on the pediatrician's street at night. I think a group of people should always applaud me for parallel parking for that matter, considering it took me three times to get my French driving license. On this particular occasion I took Juliette out of her car seat and put the diaper bag on my arm only to notice that I'd parked in front of someone's driveway/garage. Oops. Back in the car seat and seat belt for me as we made our way down the street looking for another space. But there were none to be found and I did a sort of probably illegal U-turn in a widened turn lane to head back down the other side of the street. Found a space (regular style this time) and went marching toward the doctor's office again and arrived on time for our evening appointment.

Prescription in hand for Juju's conjunctivitis and cold, I headed to the on-call pharmacy. Even though it was only 7:30 p.m., most pharmacies close at 7 here. So before leaving for the doctor, I'd checked online to find out which pharmacy was open during the evening hours (yeah me for thinking ahead). Only that once I got to where I was persauded the pharmacy was supposed to be, I saw the lights were dimmed and the cleaning lady inside was shaking her head at me to say they were closed. Through the glass door I told her I thought it was the on-call one tonight but she said no. So Juliette and I went back to the car and I decided to keep driving on this road because perhaps there was another pharmacy I didn't know about further down. Sure enough, we found the real on-call pharmacy and got our meds. Juliette started yelling "Elephant!" as we waited at the register because her little child's eyes had spotted a Babar rocking toy. It took a lot of cajoling to get her to leave the pharmacy after that.

But because of her cold and coughing she woke us up a few nights and wasn't so easy to get back down to sleep. The worst night in particular she woke at 3, took a bit of juice and sort of settled down when I laid down beside her. Only to wake again at 5 and not go back to sleep at all! And I started at 8 that day so there was no chance to sleep in. I later caught a nap in the afternoon. In fact our little girl is just not a heavy sleeper (takes after me, I suppose) in general and it's not uncommon for her to wake every now and then. If only I had the superpower to make her sleep all the night through!

And now I seem to have gotten her cold and the scratchy throat, stuffy nose and dry mouth are keeping me up, too. No rest for the weary!

Two and a half

2011-02-08T15:37:00.008+01:00

Just saying these numbers evokes ideas like cute, huggable, energetic, oh, and tantrums. Juliette is all of that and so much more. It's always amazing to me how six months can bring about so many changes in a baby/toddler. She's talking so much more than at age 2. And a world of difference compared to a year ago! She's discovering so many new concepts, like matching when we play Memory. Or the use of all these household objects like her daddy's foot file thingey. I found her pulling down her socks trying to use it like she's seen him do so often. Things we don't think she'll remember, she does. Like the name of the Piggly Wiggly supermarket in America when she saw my tote bag from there. She's still obsessed with Elmo and Dora. She's starting to discover the other "Sesalee Street" characters like "Gro(b)er" and Big Bird and Cookie Monster. Also Oui-oui, otherwise known as Noddy for you Brits. And the Wonder Pets are still on heavy rotation as well as Winnie the Pooh.

But I'll let her do the talking and she'll show you what she knows.

Yes, we're starting on the letters and numbers and colors. It's still rather rough around the edges but she'll sometimes surprise us by spotting a T on the news. Language-wise there's still quite a lot of English at home. She's learning her phrasal verbs (all you English teachers will know what I mean), those verb preposition combinations like put on, take off, get up, get down. She'll often get them confused like asking me to take on her boots when she means take off.

Catki is still her best playmate and I wonder if they're starting to resemble each other. He likes lounging in the sun and so does she!

Both enjoy watching the washing machine spin.

I'll find her imitating things I've said about Catki as well. Like "crazy Catki" when he's meowing for food. Or "Catki came to see you" when he wanders into her room. Remi has noticed that she'll make a real kissy sound when she gives him a kiss whereas for us she just tilts her head in our direction and makes us do the kiss. Thank heavens for Catki!

But I did mention tantrums at the beginning. She still visits the corner or has time-out in her bedroom quite often. For all her charms she's quite vocal when she doesn't like something. We're trying to work through the "throwing myself on the floor trick when I'm not happy." She's gotta get over that by adulthood. Sooner if I can help it.

Despite those not-so-pleasant moments, two and a half is really a delightful age and I'm enjoying being able to communicate more and more with her. She's a bundle of unpredictable fun.

You know the feeling...

2011-01-31T11:18:00.001+01:00

...when one of those oldie but goodies comes on the radio? You turn it up a bit too loud. You start driving a bit too fast, not intentionally, but because your foot is tapping to the beat. You start singing along even if you don't have tinted windows and you don't care if you look like a fool to the drivers around you. Because you are in the moment. And it doesn't get any better than this.

I'm guessing you've all got a song or two that are on your "must turn up loud" lists (and I'd love to know which ones). For me lately it's that Chaka Khan song, I feel for you. Yeah, I know, you whippersnappers born after 1980 are groaning about now. But you just wait. One day a song from your childhood will come on and kids (and by this I mean those only ten years younger than you) will scoff. Let them scoff all they want. One man's musical trash is my musical get down and boogey treasure.

My husband and I are basically from the same generation (he's four years younger), but I've found that the cultural differences can create some chasms in our musical tastes. Some sappy French 80s song will attract his attention while I'm trying not to make too many snide comments. But for him it recalls fond memories driving around with his dad when he was 10 or so.

But a car ride with Remi can also be a real exercise in patience because he's a pathological channel turner (same with the TV). I don't even have enough time to say, "Wait, that's a great Sting song," and he's turning it, and turning it again. The worst is when he'll have been listening 20 seconds, enough for me to get into a song, then abruptly turn. His internal song-o-meter must have told him it wasn't worthy.

Luckily we can agree on a few bands or artists, like most songs by Muse, Rhianna, Lady Gaga, and, oops, not too many more. His taste tends more towards all things dancey and slightly techno. I can dig some of those types of music, but also appreciate folksy rock and stuff he considers country, like the Eagles (help me out here, foks, they aren't country, right?, which I do like sometimes too, by the way).

Then there are those funny moments when I'll hear some strange French remake of The House of New Orleans. And a debate ensues about which country wrote it first. I'm inclined to think that would be my country, but not always.

Here's a game if you've got some time to waste: Listen to these French songs and name the American song. Answers at the end of the post.

1.

2.

3.

So, did you get those? 1. Black is black, apparently by a Spanish band. 2. Do wah diddy diddy. Written by a British group. 3. My Way. And this one was actually written by the French artist first.

And yes I'm a little ashamed at how much time I spent on this post, but it sure was fun!

This is the hard part

2011-01-28T15:54:00.003+01:00

I'm an expat who happens to have a blog. But I feel I should be relatively honest about what an expat's life is. Sometimes I'll come across a student who'll tell me they used to live in the south of France (a twelve-hour drive from where they live now) and how it was just too far from their family. I know what you mean, I say. And then some.

No more is that true than when family members fall ill. That was our case last week when my grandma fell and had to go to the hospital for a little less than a week. I wished I could just hop in the car or take a short plane ride to see her. But for me, seeing my family involves a minimum of about a 16 or 17-hour day when you count the train ride before and the car ride after. So I feel a bit helpless whenever anything happens way over there. I can call and hear my grandma's cheery voice and assure myself she's doing a little better. I can send emails and, more importantly, receive them to get updates. But not much more.

Luckily she's home from the hospital now but still recovering from her fall. Now my family is taking turns taking care of her, and again I'm a bit left out in that aspect. I know they don't resent me for it, but I just wish things were easier.

The best I can do from way over here is send out a big get well to her and a big hug to all the family over there!

The buzz is gone, sort of

2011-01-19T16:04:00.005+01:00

I thought this time would be different. That I could hold on to the positive attitude I'd come back with after three warm and cozy weeks with my family. And for a few days it seemed to be working. I didn't let things get to me like I used to, pre-vacation. I brushed off the snarky comments from so and so and didn't get peeved at that jerky driver. But the post-vacation buzz went away fast. Those five straight days of grey, rainy weather (so like this region) didn't help matters. I started wondering how I'd ever survived these winter mornings when the sun didn't peak out till 8:15. And those totally inconsiderate drivers. And the messy people in my apartment complex who are too lazy to just take their bulky trash to the recycling center instead of dirtying up our complex. Oh, well, I guess my attitude adjustment wasn't permament but my need for optimism (yes, it is in my vocabulary), has made me try to keep looking on the bright side.

Just as expat-pal Crystal mentioned, this is the period when vacation nostalgia starts kicking in. I put on a shirt we washed in the US and bury my face in the fabric because it smells like US dryer sheets! Or I look at my new Almay eye shadow kit and remember how I picked it out at Target. I proudly tell Juliette that such and such family member gave her that sweater. She's really gotten into it, to the point that she keeps saying "Janie (or other relative) gave you that" even if it's not true at all. Way to go for the big sentence structure though!

Her first day back at the sitter's she apparently jabbered away in English when Tata gave her a new babydoll (her Christmas present). Remi had to translate for the sitter as Juliette went on about "baby bib, baby bottle, baby diaper..." The second or third day I could see her adjusting back into her French mode. So it must be for her to interact with her little French friends and at school. But at home she's been speaking a lot of English.

And so the routine of work and grocery shopping and telling the cat not to eat the raw ground beef from the frying pan (wish that weren't a true story...) is starting again. But why don't we indulge in a little more nostalgia (I'm still in the two-week grace period, right?!) just one more time with a few videos from when we were on the other side...

Here she is singing and talking as we ride around my sister's town:

Did you catch her talking about the green light and that it means "go"?

And here she is sort of dancing (when she's not too self-conscious about the camera) to that so baby-friendly Akon song...

I promise the next post will be non-vacation related!

End of trip round-up: various topics

2011-01-11T16:05:00.006+01:00

And so we have to say goodbye...
As I said in my previous trip posts, we were just so lucky on our trip, including the fact that we got to spend three weeks stateside. It was enough time to catch up with old friends and renew family bonds. Enough to remember what it means to live in America (something I can almost forget living so far away in France). Bizarrely, I sometimes have a hard time believing I'm American when I've been in France for a long period of uninterrupted time (in this case a year and a half). But now I can proudly say where I'm from when students ask and it doesn't feel like a lie! And I can say with more authority, yes, that's the way they do it in the US. Though some things are still unfamiliar for me, believe it or not, like how much things cost or some administrative procedures.

Juliette's English improved a lot even just over the first few days. I think the fact that she was hearing English from so many sources reinforced what she'd learned from me. She started making longer phrases and picking up new words. I was pleased that she could interact easily with her American family. And of course she got to know them better and will remember them through future Skype sessions.

Travelling with a toddler
All the train and plane trips we took this time made me inevitably think about my travelling pre-baby. For you international moms who've not yet taken big trips, please enjoy the peace of an eight or nine-hour flight solo while you can. I, too, remember those flights when I had nothing to do but find good movies on the "on demand" video system, or read my book or make sure I had enough snacks to keep my tummy happy. Those days are so over. Now I don't even bring a book because Juliette is my "entertainment". I mean, keeping her whimpering or screaming down to a minimum is a full-time job and sometimes the hubby is a bit slow to react. Though I've gotten better at delegating. Like a doctor in the operating room I give him commands to get stuff out of the carry-ons. Bottle! Wipe! Toy bag! Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

There were some periods of calm where she was content to just enjoy the ride, like when she held her precious bunny up and said "Up, up!" as we took off. Or when there was light turbulence she'd look over and say "wee" gleefully. Oh, the joy of not knowing how dangerous flying can be. And she did sleep a little, too, allowing me time to watch a movie (Easy A, funny) and some sitcoms. Thank God the A330 we flew back on had the personal entertainment systems. We put Toy Story 3 on Juliette's screen to distract her a bit.

We had hoped to get the CARES system delivered to us for this flight but there was a glitch with the French supplier before we left. It's a harness system that you can easily transport with you and keeps the toddler very secured in her seat. It's true that Juliette quickly discovered she could just open the airplane's safety belt. In the end she was ok "just" with the seat belt but in future flights if she's still in the weight category for it we might opt for it. Just to let you moms know, there's also a system for younger kids called Baby B'air. However it's for lap babies and is not allowed during take-off and landing (crucial times, I'd think). The literature is going towards buying babies seats for the utmost protection anyway and they recommend putting the baby in a car seat.

Somewhere between Birmingham and Atlanta, way up high!

Black suitcases and high drama
Though we escaped snow on the way out of France, our trip back was less uneventful. The flights themselves were great. Remi got our suitcases off the carousels and marveled at how they were all together. All three of them. Though we came over with two, Christmas time meant that our possessions multiplied. So we took one of our family's spare suitcases back in addition to our two others. We had plenty of time to go to the train station (connected to the airport), buy an Orangina and walk Juliette around while waiting for our train. Once the platform number appeared we started the process of taking our stuff down the escalators to wait by the tracks. And as I stood at the bottom of the escalator waiting for Remi to come with another load, I discovered in horror that the black one he'd picked up was not ours. Just like in every cheesy spy movie, he'd picked up the wrong one. As he got within earshot I yelled in what seemed a terrified whisper, "It's not our bag!" His shocked face mimicked what mine must have looked like a minute before.

Now the train would be coming in minutes and I told him we'd have to return the suitcase. Go up to the station and just explain it to them and then we'll get ours sent to us later, I suggested. In the huge underground hall of the platform it was noisy and we couldn't hear each other well. He said something about "must" and "train" and then went up with the stranger's suitcase. Meanwhile the high speed train pulled in and passengers started getting on. There I was with two suitcases, two carry-ons and a stroller that had just somehow gotten damaged and would no longer open. So I had to keep Juliette in my arms and she was crying having sensed her parents' stress. I asked a train agent if there was another train to our town as I knew this one was about to leave. He didn't know and as the alarm bell rang on the platform to signal imminent departure I just panicked. I didn't know what to do and kept turning my head from side to side hoping for an answer.

In the end we didn't take the train and I immediately second-guessed myself. Maybe Remi had wanted me to take it without him? But he had very little money on him. How could he have gotten back himself? I sat on the concrete floor with Juliette in my arms and started saying chokily "Mommy made a mistake." This made Juliette cry too and she repeated "Mommy 'take, Mommy mistake." After a few minutes I started thinking again and asked some passengers waiting for a train to watch my slew of suitcases while I went up with baby to the information desk. We modified our tickets to get on the next train at little charge. But Remi was still nowhere to be found. He finally called (using a stranger's iPhone) to tell me he needed the baggage claim number to get our suitcase. But I couldn't find any papers for it. At least I told him about the new train and that he could get his ticket at the information desk if he were too late.

I was relieved and happy to finally see his face coming down the escalator with our real suitcase. Phew! We got on the later train and made it to our town where his friend was waiting to pick us up. Now we can laugh about it (luckily), but it was stressful at the time. And we'll certainly pay more attention next time!

If only the fun would never end

2010-12-31T18:12:00.009+01:00

So we've got exactly another week here and I'm getting that inevitable grey feeling about going back to France. I knew that it would creep up on me as it always does. And though I'll be glad to see my cat and coworkers, there will be that time of transition. Because, let's face it, things are just a lot of fun here. No doubt if I really lived here again and had to work and deal with traffic and exorbitant health care costs it would be different. Or would it? I would at least be able to see my family more frequently and that makes a big difference. But I shouldn't go down that path 'cause for the time being it's not an option. And besides, we really have been blessed to have gotten here safely (yet more flights were cancelled last week and at one point there was so much snow on the roof of a Paris airport terminal that it had to be evacuated!) and to have three weeks to enjoy ourselves.

In the meantime we're making great memories to nurture us through the next long stretch when we'll be apart from the US contingent of the family. Plus doing some much needed catching up on Americana. Here are a few highlights:

Hanging out with my old high school girlfriends (who are all moms themselves now). It's cool how we can all connect to each other on new levels now. We remember why we got along before even though we've all changed.

Last minute Christmas shopping at Wal-Mart and Target.

Making sugar cookies with baby, Jess and my mom. Juliette's first experience with cookie cutters: a test in patience for us all but it was good fun anyway.

Snow on Christmas Day and the day after! We so rarely get snow in Alabama that really sticks, and it's even rarer on Christmas. How perfect that we got it for our visit.

Nice visits with my uncle and aunt and her little dog Bella. Currently visiting my sis down at her place.

Great eats at home and out, including but not limited to:

California rolls (so much better when enjoyed with my family)
square doughnuts and Krispy Kreme doughnuts (not at the same time)
Chinese buffet
Italian at The Olive Garden
Oreo balls (divine concoction made from crushed Oreos, cream cheese then dipped in chocolate)
Grandma's corn dressing and Sunny's sweet potato casserole
Mom's pecan tartelettes...

I could go on but I might exceed your daily calorie allowance just writing about it all.

But mostly we've just been catching up on each other, like this quiet reading moment with my grandma. That's what we came here for anyway.

Tonight we're going to spend a low key New Year's (that's the way I like it!) at my sister's house. Probably won't update again till I'm back in France (sniff). Happy New Year's to everyone and safe travels to those of you going back yourselves.

International transit

2010-12-19T22:08:00.004+01:00

I love the feeling of waking up in my mother's home again. That first morning back, my eyes sensed the light coming through the blinds around six (about two hours earlier than in higher latitude France). I heard a bird chirping and, my favorite of all, the distant sound of the freight train honking at a railway passage. Home. The features of the house that I've been keeping fresh in my mind's eye and through periodic Skype visits is there to greet me again. The familiar creak in the floor here, the sound of the hook and eye latch on the door.

Yes, we're settling in quite nicely and thanking our lucky stars we got here without too many hitches. Apparently the snowstorms back in Paris have stranded thousands of travelers, some even having to spend a night in the airport there. I can only imagine their frustration as all they want is to get home (or in some cases to their tropical travel destination). The morning we left our city had a nice blanket of it and the train to Paris was a bit delayed. But luckily that didn't cause any problems catching our flight. It was starting to snow at our scheduled take-off time so the plane had to be de-iced. This led to us getting off late.

Luckily the ten and half-hour plane ride went better than I had thought, but Juliette still had a bit of trouble adjusting to the idea that she couldn't "get down," something she asks me all the time. There were some touch and go moments of her screaming "no." Luckily I had befriended the eight-year old girl who was flying alone in the row beside us and she helped me entertain Juliette a few times. But it's only fair since I had let the girl play with my iPod. And we both agreed that it was just a shame that our flight didn't have individual video systems (what's up with that, Delta?).

(Can you tell we are happy?!)

But all's well that ends well. We caught our connecting flight despite our delay and arrived safe and sound. We're still resting up a bit but the jet-lag hasn't been so bad this time. The weather's lovely, sunny and not so chilly. Everyone's enjoying seeing Juliette and her funny antics. I might be blogging less over these next few weeks but I'm sure you'll understand why. So if I don't post again for a while, have a warm and cozy holiday!

I'll leave you with some Christmasy music from my favorite program.

It's beginning to look a lot like...Siberia?

2010-12-05T16:08:00.007+01:00

Well, not today actually. Now most of the snow has melted and been replaced by a monotonous rain. But we had a good bit of white stuff this week, including a rather blustery snowfall yesterday. Juliette enjoyed thrashing about in it, but of course I was there to remind her not to get her gloves soggy.

Of course we snapped a few photos:

And we're getting into the Christmas spirit. Today is Saint Nicholas' Day, something celebrated in countries like Belgium, Holland and Germany. Since my mom spent a few years of her childhood in Germany, it's a tradition she gave to our family. So as Juliette has been a fairly good child, St. Nick put some candy in the boots that we left out last night.

We've decorated half of our dining table as the Christmas corner, complete with tabletop tree and mini snow globe and cowboy snowman and Santa. We didn't go all out with a real tree since we'll be leaving in LESS THAN TWO WEEKS FOR THE US. Juliette refers to Santa as "(s)tannah claw". We'll see how she reacts to the real thing next week at the day care Christmas show. This will be our third and last year to go to this event as next Christmas she'll be in official pre-school.

Still lots to do before we take that big plane to America. And once we get there we'll just be happy to see family and friends. And do everything. And nothing at all. Still a bit hard to believe I'm going back after a year and a half. I'm afraid it will go by too fast, but that just means I'll try to enjoy every minute of it.

28 months and so much to do and say

2010-11-29T17:36:00.004+01:00

Here Juliette shows us the latest Babycise moves. Faux snapping (that's me doing the snapping, folks) and spinning. Lots of spinning. Amazingly she's not dizzy after all that.

But she also likes quiet times like making a pie crust with mom. This one is so easy (er, easy as pie?!) and you don't even have to roll it out. Just take about 100g of butter or margarine (that's a bit less than half a cup), a cup of water (in France I use one of those mustard glasses for the cup), and melt it in a saucepan. Then add two cups of flour to your mixture (remove from heat). Mix well and pat it into a buttered pie pan. It's not necessary to cook it before adding your pie ingredients, but you can.

Language-wise she's still quite the little mimic. She likes to say "whatcha doin'?" and I realize I must really sound like an Italian New Yorker when I say it if her accent is anything to go by! And as she looks through the toy book, she'll say "we got that!" even for some toys we don't really have. And we're teaching her how to say Alabama, that place where we'll be going in a few short weeks. Except it comes out more like "Ala-gramma", maybe because she associates my grandma with it?

Potty trainig is quite the adventure, especially since after successfully doing it a few times, she's not into it anymore. If I ask her if she wants to sit on it she'll say, "non, pas ça" or "no, not that" in French. So to get a more polite response I'm teaching her to say "no, thank you."

But despite the tantrums (there are still some) and meals she doesn't always finish, most of the time she's a perfectly precious half-pint human.

Shades of grey

2010-11-23T15:26:00.003+01:00

Or gray, as you like it. In my family we seem to prefer grey with an "e" because it seems more British and cosmpolitan. But anyway you spell it, the color is still the same. In France the weather forecasters (usually very well-dressed ladies in their fifties) will announce "grisaille" (pronounced greez-ey-ya) or grey weather, in an apologetic way. The word itself is just icky. And that's what we've been experiencing quite a lot these past two weeks. This part of France is rather blessed with greyness. A few sunny days scattered here and there to buoy us up just a little. To remind us what it's like to not have to turn on the lights at 10 a.m. or 3 in the afternoon. Just a patch of blue can be enough to remind us there is life beyond blah-ness.

Ah, as I write this, the sun is peaking through. Today's half and half. Something to be thankful for on this week of Thanksgiving. Even though I know I'm going home in less than a month (!!!), I always miss my fam on Thanksgiving. I just know I'm missing out on coziness and good food. But mom sent me some goodies again so I guess I'll rustle up some stuff to get in the spirit. And truly, I do have so much to be thankful for. As for the weather, I'll just have to try to do as the folks around here do (or at least what they like to say): put the sun in my heart since it's not always in the sky. Good advice no matter where you live.

The US, as seen in the movies

2010-11-18T14:26:00.000+01:00

I've been away from the US (besides the occasional trips home) for eight years. And since Juliette was born, visits to the movie theater have been rare (er, once in the last two and a half years). Even before that we didn't go to the movies that often. The result is that I'm totally out of it when it comes to knowing about recent movies. Sometimes we'll catch them here, dubbed, with some weird French title. But recently more stuff comes to us in English. And we seem to be getting the cable channels for a preview week. So we've been catching up (ok, just a fraction of the eight years). And I find that I have started to see the US differently after all that time away. I also have to be careful not to fall into the stereotypes that the films could give me about my home country.

For example: all cops are beefy, courageous types who have hearts of gold. Like the one in 12 Rounds. In this story, an Irish terrorist sets up a series of twelve, duh, challenges to torture the cop who was sort of responsible for said terrorist's girlfriend's accidental death. Enjoyed seeing New Orleans featured in this film since it's a place I've visited. Was the film at all realistic? Probably not. Did I fall asleep at about the 9th round? Yeah, but that's a problem I have with action films, plus I was cozy on the couch. It was a typical guy movie, I told Remi. No, it's a typical American film, he corrected me. No, no, I protested, they're not all like that. You're right, he said, there's also the romantic comedy.

Which brings me to the second stereotype: people in America have great, funny extended families and hook up with their soulmates after meet-cute situations. Like in, oops, don't know the English name, here it's Coup de Foudre à Rhode Island (Love at first sight in Rhode Island). Ok, thanks Internet, it's Dan in Real Life. I actually enjoyed this one. Yes, it was slapstick at times, but it was good fun and Steve Carrel can make me laugh even when he's just raising an eyebrow. Also liked his realationship (albeit dysfunctional) with his daughters. As far as romcoms go (is that the word, Jess?), it wasn't too sappy.

Going back to the action film genre, we could get the impression that Americans like saving the world. Or are the only ones capable of doing so. That's what the overly-sensitive Frenchies like to point out. But I say, if you're making a movie, you're probably going to put people of your own nationality in it. No offense to the others. We do seem to excel in this type of film, from a dollars earned point of view. Independence Day, Terminator (John Connor is American). Speaking of the Terminator, as Remi drops everything one of the four films is on, I'm getting to know every detail of the saga. It really is a very well-composed sotry.

But sometimes indie films are more my speed. Like Little Miss Sunshine and Sunshine Cleaning (just a coincidence that they both have "sunshine" in the name). The latter is a dark comedy (the sisters start a crime-scene cleaning company). But just hearing the sarcastic banter between the sisters reminded me of how fun and casual our US English can be. I felt more American after watching it, more connected to my language and country.

While we're on the subject of entertainment, check out my sister's blog for her fun and insightful TV and movie reviews. In the meantime, I think I'll microwave some popcorn and see what's on. As long as it's in English, I'll probably give it a try.

Twinkle vs. hiccups

2010-11-17T18:55:00.004+01:00

You got it. Another rendition of Twinkle twinkle, little star, but interrupted by hiccups. Couldn't resist posting this one. Of course, this little girl is too techno-savvy and knows that soon after I take pictures or videos, she gets to see them. So that cut short the singing. I'm dedicating this one to Karine's little girl Louise, another budding Twinkle, twinkle, little star singer!

For goodness sake

2010-11-12T16:41:00.002+01:00

Anne of Green Gable fans may remember the part where Anne muses about what she would choose if she could only choose one of the following: to be incredibly smart or beautiful or angelically good (correct me if I'm wrong). If my memory serves, she knows she should choose to be good, but her vanity would like to be smart and beautiful, too. Wouldn't we all. I'm not trying to be preachy here, rather seeking a little guidance myself. I think a lot lately about how to be a good person. And a recent discussion with a friend showed me it crosses her mind a lot, too.

In our world where we are constantly bombarded with ways to take better care of the planet, being good has taken on a whole new meaning. A trip to the supermarket can be a real headache. According to whatever alarmist documentary I've just seen, I need to worry about things like which fruits and veggies are really in season (cause otherwise they're transported from South America and have a huge carbon footprint). And does it have palm oil in it, cause in some countries they're destroying the native forests to plant huge palm plantations. Not to mention it's not good for your health. And what about the Fairtrade products that support the workers' well-being? That plastic garden table? Well, it's using up our oil supply and was probably produced in China so used up energy coming here.

But in the end, doing all those things doesn't really scratch the surface on being good. Sure, it can be important, but the guy who litters on the sidewalk then buys a homeless man a three-course meal is a better person than the environmentalist who never buys out of season veggies. Or is he? Modern life ain't so easy. But I'm more often bothered by the feeling that I'm not doing enough for my fellow man. I see the tragedies on TV, families torn apart or decimated, children sickened by cancer, people living out of their cars, and I wonder what I really can do. Besides just donating at Christmas or the food drive at the grocery store. It's not enough just to say I care and say my heart goes out to these people. If I'm not part of the solution, am I part of the problem? It's all well and good to say I feel for these poor folks, then to go on obsessing about traffic and my own budget.

I'm not saying I'm going to start living every moment down at the local food shelter, but I know that I need to do more. So what to do? I suppose I could start by being thankful for that all that I have. It really is "another day for you and me in paradise" to quote (oh, forgive me) Phil Collins. So less complaining! Less wasting of food! And more compassion.

Would appreciate knowing how others feel about this subject. Peace out!

All the news that's fit to post about

2010-11-06T16:22:00.001+01:00

Fall has fallen
Well, if we can say spring has sprung, why not? This week has been just gorgeous in terms of fall color. I feel like I'm driving around in a fairy land with all those brilliant yellows and oranges around me. And I love how the leaves carpet the grass under the trees like confetti. I must teach Juliette how to shuffle her feet in the leaves, a very important life skill. Of course, I just want to snap pictures all the time to capture these amazing colors, but I know it would never do it justice. This time is brief, ephemeral. I'll try to capture it in my mind's eye instead.

Costume time
Juliette was some kind of panther/leopard for Halloween. I made her some cat ears which she wore, oh, about ten minutes. Just enough time for me to take pictures. I had a few colleagues over for tea and Karine brought her own little Halloweeners over to help us eat candy and cupcakes.

I'm lovin' it
Ah, a quick trip to McDonald's! We enjoyed a little family outing at the Golden Arches this week. Frankly, we don't go very often, so it's always an event. Juliette says "shopping" when she sees McDonald's because she associates them with shopping centers. This time she also uttered her first "McDonnells"-like word. Oh, it brought a shiver to my American heart. Or was that the coronary coming on? Just kidding! A little finger-licking sauce now and then is no big deal. And since being out at a restaurant at night is so rare for Remi and I, it almost felt like a date.

This just in...
My cat's insane. Ok, it's no news flash, 'cause I've known it for a while. He is always hungry and despite my new technique of spraying water at him when he scratches the cabinet for food, he still meows his head off when I approach the kitchen. At any time of the day! Watch for my new book: When Bad Cats Happen to Good People, in finer bookstores everywhere.

I'll be home for...
Yes, start crooning those sappy Christmas songs. I made my reservations to go back HOME for Christmas. So it'll be Juliette's first Christmas in the US, Remi's second. I'm so looking forward to seeing family and friends that honestly I don't need one present under the tree. Only downside: hearing all those Christmas songs everytime we step into any store. It's a small price to pay, I suppose.

chocolate to die for

2010-10-30T14:52:00.001+02:00

Run, don't walk, to the supermarket to get the ingredients for this moelleux au chocolat (I guess we'd call it a moist and gooey chocolate cake, but in this case it's muffins). So easy to make and so decadent! Choco-holics will adore it.

Ingredients for six muffins:
125 g (4.4 oz) dark chocolate (chocolat noir à 70%) plus 6 squares (basically a bar of 200g (7 oz) and keep six squares for later))
125 g butter or margarine (a little more than half a cup)
some butter to grease the muffin tins
2 eggs plus 2 yolks
50 g sugar (1/4 cup)
40 g flour (1/3 cup)
6 aluminum muffin liners (or just butter the tray really well)

1. Preheat oven to thermostat 6/7 or 200°C (little less than 400°F).
2. In a glass bowl, place the 125g of chocolate, broken into pieces and the butter. Place in bain marie (a saucepan with bowling water on the stove top) until chocolate all melted.
3. In a big mixing bowl, mix the eggs and yolks with the sugar, then add the flour and mix. Add the chocolate butter mixture with a spatula.
4. Pour the mixture in the buttered muffin liners in the trays and stick a chocolate square in each one in the middle.
5. Heat about 10 minutes. Take out of their muffin liners and eat while it's still warm and melty.

(I know this picture is fuzzy, but you can still see that warm chocolatey goodness.)

Enjoy!

Because...

2010-10-29T18:10:00.001+02:00

Because you need to see a dancing Euro-baby. Because this definitely is her European side coming out!

Snippets of my life

2010-10-23T16:33:00.005+02:00

This post has no real theme. It's just bits and pieces of what's going on. I'm getting a bit more adjusted to fall. I'm trying to see the positive aspects. Like cozying up on the couch under a blanket with Juliette to read some books. Or having a real excuse for this homebody girl to stay inside. Like today. It's gray, rainy, windy, perfect reason to stay in and putter. Which I generally do anyway. I'm getting into making bread. Just need a little time to knead it and let it rise and then you've got nice warm bread.

But I'm still apprehensive about the gloomy months ahead. Dreading the time change next weekend when it will be dark by 5:30 and over the next month, even earlier. That's why I think I'll be spending, oh, the next four months in this little number when I'm at home.

A blanket with sleeves. I might never leave the house.

At least I'm appreciating my dryer even more now that it would take ages to dry stuff outside. What a joy it is for me to clean out the lint filter. Sadly, I'm not kidding at all when I say that. And I honestly don't iron nearly as much as I did!

Meanwhile, Little Miss Juju's been a real rascal. She's taken to pushing the 20-month-old around at the sitter's even if he hasn't provoked her at all. I don't want my daughter to become the neighborhood bully. I've seen it with my own eyes though. One Monday morning she just coldly pushed his shoulder instead of smiling and saying hello. Let's hope it's just a phase. Like her refusing just about everything we put in front of her at mealtimes lately.

She's also proving that kids have more fun with the box than what's inside (Murphy's baby law #7).

And that there's no use buying real toys when she'll just use normal objects, like this thermometer which is being used as a phone. Check out how complex this conversation is! I think she hears the sitter on the phone quite a bit...

Reporting from a war zone

2010-10-19T14:11:00.002+02:00

I feel like a war-time journalist sending out updates from shell-shocked France. Since I last wrote, the situation's only gotten more intense. Yesterday in my group lesson we talked about the strikes and how the refineries have stopped production. One lady said semi-dramatically that her tank was empty. Thus followed a short silence as if she'd said she only had a week to live. One of my colleague's students cancelled her lesson because she had no gas and couldn't drive the 30 minutes to the center. She had to walk to work and was lucky she was able to. I've seen yet more lines at gas stations and there are moments when there are so many cars that they stick out in the intersection or roundabout and create more traffic problems.

This morning as I tried to drive to work I noticed things were much slower than usual. No wonder! The union members and their truck-driving buddies were blocking entry to my town and seriously choking exit, too. Instead of three lanes to exit the town, they'd bottlenecked it to one. I saw the driver in front of me roll down his window to take the union flyer from the protesters on the side of the road. I felt like shooting them a bird but thought better of it. They might have attacked my car. Instead I just tried to drive forward. But one of the guys walked out in front of my car and said to his buddies, "Hey, she didn't take a flyer." So grudgingly I rolled down my window and took the paper with a hasty "merci" and drove off.

Once at work my student and I talked about the situation. As a higher level manager, he wasn't keen on strikes and his own business meeting had been cancelled since most of the participants couldn't make it due to transport problems. My coworkers and I grunted our complaints about how these folks were sometimes preventing us from working and making money. It's fine if they want to strike and not get paid, but they shouldn't block us from making a living.

On the way back home I chose to go through the small towns. But access back on to the main road was blocked by the police (gendarmes) at one point and at another we were totally stuck on the entrance ramp. I started wishing I could back up and to my delight I saw the motorists behind me were doing just that. So we all started backing up on the ramp, totally illegal, but frankly it felt good to escape the traffic jam and beat the protesters for once. Of course, I did use up more precious gas with all this backtracking but I avoided the parking lot that was the "expressway".

Yesterday the high schoolers kicked it up a notch, too. The high school in front of the babysitter's was turning into a combat zone. As I took Juliette to the door in her pale pink quilted parka, I held her a bit more closely than usual, eyeing the students across the road who were throwing down a few firecrackers. They started knocking over garbage cans and walking on the road to block drivers. After dropping baby off I drove the other way to avoid their shenanigans. I passed a garbage can that had obviously been burned and that the city workers were cleaning up.

I know this is the country that stormed the Bastille and had a revolution. But I think they had better reason way back then (uh, poverty, famine, yeah, I get that). Now they seem to strike like it's their birthright. I wouldn't grudge them their right to protest but only if I can still live my life! Their freedom should end where ours begins. But they don't see it that way. They're just angry at this retirement plan and in general wanting to show their disapproval of the current government. Can't they find a way to do that which doesn't bring the country to a standstill?!

Wallowing vs. action

2010-10-15T15:55:00.002+02:00

Wallowing usually wins that fight. At least for a while. Instead of complaining about my situation I know I should try and change it. Should do, but...
It takes me a few months or years or decades to get off my duff and do something but I get there eventually.

So thanks to the readers who tried to comfort me after my pity-party-post. I know I shouldn't reach out for sympathy like that but let's face it, there are times I'm just not so sunny. I suppose my blog often represents who I want to be. The sunnier moments where I'm enjoying life and reflecting and pausing. But there are a lot of gray days, too, which aren't always easy to get through. It helps to know I'm not the only one though. Thank you, blog community!

Perhaps I should take my cue from the French, who when they've had enough, just get out in the street and protest! That's what I call action, though I don't always approve of their methods or even the reasons they strike. This time it seems to be a doozy though. Case in point: I just went by the gas station only to find that there was no unleaded in the pump I was at. There was a fairly hefty line of cars for a Friday afternoon at 3. At the second station they had unleaded but again there was a longer wait than usual. I did have half a tank myself but I figure better be safe than sorry.

Why? Because some of the French refineries have been disrupted or stopped production.

Why? Because the French are mad as hell and aren't gonna take it anymore.

Ok, why are they mad again? Because the government had the gall to suggest increasing the retirement age. To age 62 according to this CNN report, but I've heard it could be higher. I like to tease my students and tell that in the US it's already much higher! And so this is the fourth time since school started that there has been a national strike day: trains, schools, etc. And now the refinery workers are participating. And the high schoolers are protesting, too, even though they're far from retirement age.

If I can't drive to work because of this thing (and therefore lose money), I think I'll go on strike myself! Wait, that doesn't make sense. Who cares, it's the French attitude.

Momma said there'd be days like these

2010-10-14T20:33:00.003+02:00

Do you ever feel like you're stuck in the spin cycle of the wash? Being beaten up by that pair of sneakers in there, too? Sometimes you just can't win. Feeling like every little administrative gaffe at work is your fault, that your students aren't responding to you or aren't progressing quickly enough. And at home it seems like you and your husband aren't even speaking the same language. And I'm not talking about the language barrier. Yeah, I guess I've been having one of those days or weeks or two weeks. Now the baby is screaming in her crib 'cause her precious "Dou-dou" stuffed animal was left at the sitter's. Not to mention that she didn't get her normal nap as they had to go to the daycare for the monthly doctor's visit and she just couldn't make herself nap earlier than usual.

And to top it all off, most days lately (strangely not today), I start feeling bodily tired around 3:30 or 4 pm. Must be the change in seasons catching up with me.

So besides just hopping on a plane for home for an extended vacation in mid-October, I'm not sure what to do to get out of this funk. Suggestions welcome.

When life gives you pumpkins...

2010-10-10T17:25:00.002+02:00

...make pumpkin pie. Four of them. And two pumpkin cakes. And there was still enough to fill three tupperware containers. It was a very big pumpkin. Check it out for yourself in these photos. Who doesn't love a good pumpkin photo? We think it was about 40 pounds. Remi kindly peeled, cut and supervised the cooking process and even helped me out a bit with the pie preparation.

For those wanting to make pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving, it's pretty easy. The prep is the longest part. Cut the pumpkin into slices and peel. Scoop out the seeds. We cook it in a pressure cooker in the steam basket. About 15 to 20 minutes when it's fully steaming or so that you can stick a knife through the pumpkin flesh easily. I mash the pumpkin a bit and drain off some of the excess water. Then you can use the traditional pumpkin pie recipes like this one. Instead of evaporated milk, I use crème liquide (20 cl). However you can get evaporated milk here (lait concentré). If your mom doesn't send you pumpkin pie spice from the US like mine, then just cinammon will do, or splurge and by all the individual spices.

I guess autumn brings out the baker in me. Gray days need a little sugary pick-me up. Juliette's getting into helping me stir the batter, a dangerous operation sometimes but I'm pleased to have my little baker girl beside me.

To read when you are 25

2010-10-06T13:12:00.002+02:00

Dear Juliette,

By now you've heard the story about the time I accidentally locked you in the car about a million times. You probably used it as ammunition during those rebellious adolescent years (please tell me they weren't so bad!), as in, yeah, mom, remember when you locked me in the car, so please let me go out with my friends this Saturday?

But please know that I really am sorry it happened and of course I was worried about my little angel. To be fair, though, you did have your fair share of blame in the incident. If you hadn't pushed the lock button on the keys I'd let you hold (mistake!) as I strapped you in your car seat, then it wouldn't have happened. Then again, if I'd unlocked the car right away instead of throwing my keys on the seat before I closed the passgener door, it wouldn't have happened either. But that's why it's called an accident. And luckily for us it ended happily. But not without a little anxiety.

Of course, I called your dad right away who hopped in his car to drive 30 minutes to the babysitter's house, where we were parked right in front. But as I wasn't 100% sure where the spare key was in the apartment, I couldn't tell him to look for it himself. I then called the insurance company, but of course my insurance papers were in the locked car. They were able to look up my policy but in fact we weren't covered for locksmith services. I guess my mind was sort of on slow-motion. I really didn't know what to do and in what order. I even tried to get you to stretch your little hand and open the passenger door lock, but it was too far. Then to do it with your foot. You'd already taken those little white shoes off, as you were so fond of doing, and you did put your foot where I asked you, smiling all the time. But pushing it up with your stockinged foot proved difficult. And you didn't seem to understand my interest in this new game. I even took my shoe off and tried to demonstrate what I wanted you to do on the other side of the car window, but to no avail. You did your best honey.

At least you weren't panicking in there, but this would have to happen on one of those rare Indian summer days where we'd gotten to the mid-70s and it was sunny. I started worrying about you getting warm in there as I had on my car ride home. But there were no windows open for you, of course. So let's say 30 minutes into this thing I decided to call a locksmith anyway. By the time papa would get there and I went back to the apartment it could be getting really too warm in there. Oh no, were you looking a bit listless, or just bored? Your cheeks were rather pink and your blond hair started sticking to your forehead because of the sweating. Yes, the locksmith was the right thing to do.

Of course, he got there two minutes after Remi arrived and I had already set off to the apartment for the spare keys, just in case. It would have to be rush hour and I was stuck in accordeon traffic getting back to our place. I ran up and found the keys in a flash, ran back down and drove back in more traffic. I didn't put the air on even though it was stuffy because I was thinking of you in that closed car. And praying that everything worked out ok.

When I got back to the sitter's all was well. I paid the locksmith thirty euros for his fine work and went into check on you inside the sitter's. You were bouncing around happily in the playpen with the younger baby. Cheeks still red but not in the least disturbed by your recent misadventure. Tata'd given you orange Fanta to cool you down, so maybe that's why you were hyper.

So once again, know how much you mean to me and that I really did (and do) try to do my best for you. And if you have a little one day and do something silly like me, I won't laugh at all.

Love, Mom

A month of Sundays

2010-09-30T13:20:00.006+02:00

I've never quite known what to make of this expression. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? It depends on the Sunday, if you ask me. There are those Sundays where we have absolutely no agenda, Remi's not working, we sleep in as long as baby lets us. Those can be nice. There are those Sundays in spring when we spend all day at his parents' business/home so Juliette and I can see him. Tiring to be there all day and have my own stuff waiting for me at home. And in the "off season" like now, there are some Sundays where we spend at least part of the day with his family for a meal.

Last Sunday fell into that last category. And as we sat in his grandad's dining room turning on and off the light depending on the semi-gloomy weather outside, I realized that there are a lot of patterns in these Sunday gatherings. Of course, it's structured around the meal, which this time started with big shrimp as an appetizer. His grandad had asked me to chill the champagne or champagne-like sparkling wine before-hand. Remi's dad poured a tiny bit of blackberry liqueur into each glass to add the flavor while Remi kindly deshelled my shrimp. We clinked our glasses, each person clinking with the others individually, as is the French way. Juliette always joins in with her plastic sippy cup and wants to keep going long after we've finished.

The champagne must have been strong last week 'cause when I stood up to get something in the kitchen for Juju I could really feel the effects. It's funny how a little bubbly can really get your mind lolling and your mouth talking. Like a few weeks ago when his family started talking about how Ethnic Group A or B is always like that and they'll never change. My family-in-law can be very kind and intelligent, but we just don't see eye-to-eye on race relations. No amount of my playing the meek devil's advocate can change their minds. But the champagne made me speak a little more easily as I went on my spiel, which I really do believe: that you have to treat people as individuals and that just because a person is of a certain ethnic group, it doesn't mean they're thieves or wife-beaters or whatever. Not that I'm perfect myself or always open-minded and free of stereotypes. Champagne or not, it still fell on deaf ears, but at least I said it.

Once Juliette finished up her meal, stuff I'd prepared at home and some of the meat Remi's mom had cooked up, I put her to bed in Dédé's room. Out in the dining room the meal continued with pintade or guinea fowl. Basically like chicken but maybe a heartier taste. And mashed potatoes and spinach from their garden. If I'm not watching or my reflexes are dulled (see paragraph above re: champagne), I can't fight off Remi's huge servings on my plate. Which puts me in the embarassing situation of having to finish what he gave me (though sometimes I don't). So I plodded along with my honking portions, generally the last to finish anyway.

While eating my Popeye portion of spinach, I asked his mom how she'd prepared it. Ah, food, a much safer topic anyway. His mom is a pretty good cook and they've introduced me to some new foods like some vegetables called bettes (Swiss chard) and black radish (only black on the outside) and of course, the famous patty-pan squash.

And then it was the cheese course, where here again I was coaxed to eat big portions and had to fight off offers for second helpings. Then dessert, this time a pie made with applesauce filling. Here again we talked about how his mom had made it, by using a special presse-purée (apparently called a potato ricer) to smash the apples. The advantage of this being there's no need to peel the apples before-hand as the apparatus just smears the peel off and you can remove it.

Dessert is always the moment when Dédé trots out his famous joke as he looks at me and says, "Vous n'aimez pas ça?" (You don't like that?) For Dédé knows I have a sweet tooth. So now I've started saying the same thing to him, as he downs his pastries pretty rapidly, too. And you'd be surprised the types of jokes an 85-year-old is capable of telling in mixed company. I guess age is liberating or he's always been a bit naughty? There's the riddle about why the hair on your head gets white where elsewhere it might not? Something about color staying where there was pleasure. If you're blushing, imagine how I feel. I generally just smile weakly and pray he doesn't continue or ask me if I truly got it.

By this point we'd been sitting there for at least two hours and the digestion process started to get to me. I commanded my eyes to stay open so I wouldn't seem rude nodding off in my pie.

On to coffee, thankfully, but here I'm always left out. For the moment I'm not a coffee drinker, though I've started taking a bit of coffee milk when I must start at 8 during the week. Everytime Dédé asks if I want some and marvels that I don't drink the "only" caffeinated after-meal drink he could imagine. All in good fun, it is, but again, here his family will never understand that a nice cup of tea is lovely, too. They generally make some kind of "yuck" sound and matching expression when I say that tea is good. Or they think it's only for when you're sick. It's never stocked in their house but sometimes I bring my own tea bag so I'll feel like part of the hot beverage club.

And another Sunday came to a close, our bellies filled, family time duly respected, cooking traditions learned. Apparently his mom was listening attentively, because later in the week Remi came home with a brand new presse purée she'd picked up for me and some Swiss chard from the garden. Anybody got a good recipe for that?

Since we last spoke...

2010-09-22T15:48:00.003+02:00

...I'd say there's not much news here. September is giving us one of those glorious blue sky days with the perfect warmth and sunshine. The type of day we were seriously lacking for most of August. Ironically it's the last day of summer and tomorrow's supposed to start getting rainy, as if on cue. I'm finding it harder to get up in the morning, as are my colleagues, and I'm convinced that the fact that the sun doesn't rise till 7:30 lately has something to do with it. Work's picking up, but still light enough to leave me some holes in my schedule. Each time I see a lovely afternoon I feel compelled to take Juliette out and take advantage of it. As if it could be our last lovely day for who knows how long.

Meanwhile Juliette's been her cute and sometimes exasperating self. Here she's posing quite nicely with a yellow flower. I bet nobody can guess what it is!

She's still very keen on Elmo but is polite enough to say "Elmo, please," when she wants me to go to the Sesame Street Channel on the Internet. BEP fans will enjoy this clip of Will.i.am singing with the Sesame Street gang. And I know mom will love this one of Jason Bateman explaining what comfort is. I have to say I enjoy watching old and new SS clips. They are really quite clever and it tickles me to death when Juliette starts talking back to the screen and repeating things.

Last week marked my eighth year anniversary of my arrival in France. Each year it gets a little scarier to realize how long I've been here. Especially if I think about all my friends back home who in general are in slightly more comfortable situations while I'm in the low-salary and not always foreigner-friendly country of France. But let's be positive (oh, I'll try)! In these last eight years I've:

*learned to drive a stick shift and learned the French driving code (phew!)
*learned to speak better French than the few phrases I knew back in 2002
*learned that French people have a strange way of telling you you're wrong and that you probably shouldn't take it too seriously or you'll be wounded every two minutes (still working on that)

But enough about me. I came across and old British women's magazine from 2003 and even though it's only seven years old, you'll find that the celebrities have gone through some major changes, too:

Ben Affleck and JLO were still a couple. Now he's with Jennifer Garner and has two kids.

Tom Cruise was still with Penelope Cruz and Nicole Kidman was still single after their divorce.

Winona Ryder had shown up in court in 2002 for shoplifting. Has anyone heard from her since?

Madonna was still married to Guy Ritchie and living in London.

Renée Zellweger had recently broken up with George Clooney and was with the White Stripes guy. Now apparently it's Bradley Cooper. People were already talking about her weight ups and way downs.

Britney Spears had just split with Justin Timberlake. No kids yet.

So there you go. You can always count on celebrities and their crazy lives to make your own feel a bit more sane.

Move over, Mariah

2010-09-10T15:44:00.004+02:00

Here's the newest singing sensation from this side of the Atlantic. JuJu, the Franco-American toddler sings her medley of English and French nursery rhymes. But don't ask her to come back for an encore. She's got some coloring to do and she might make that whiny sound.

So did you catch those tunes? A little "Are you sleeping?" and "Bateau," a French one she learned at day care. She starts in on "Dansons la capucine" also there. Then "Twinkle, Twinkle", and "Itsy bitsy spider" which turns into "Tourner moulin", one where you also make some hand movements. These are the moments that make being a mom all worth-while!

Overheard

2010-09-03T13:46:00.004+02:00

A recent conversation in my household:

Me: Did you throw my burnt sponge away?
Remi: Yes. It was dead.
Me: But I was going to take a picture of it for my blog.
Remi: I don't think it's just the sponge I should have thrown away...

Let's go back in time to last Tuesday evening. Yes, my sponge got burnt because (I'll let you decide):

A. We had nothing else to eat and I thought about cooking it up.
B. Juliette learned to play with matches.
C. I was disinfecting it in the microwave.
D. Charcoal makes a great dish detergent.

You know me well enough to realize it was C. Just another in a series of mishaps that can only happen to yours truly. But to be fair, I was (loosely) following instructions from a magazine tidbit about disinfecting your kitchen sponges. And since I do often notice that my sponges get that not-so-fresh smell after a while, I thought, why not. They said to rinse it and put some liquid detergent on it and microwave it 3 minutes. Ok, so I think I did it more like four and I smelled some smoke so stopped the timer. And used my metal tongs to take it out then doused it in the sink. It was never on fire, just charred. So that's the last time I follow seemingly good tips from magazines. From now on I'll just boil it. Or buy a new one.

But the above conversation between my hubby and me highlights an even deeper problem. The need to report ridiculous things on my blog. There, I'm doing it again! As I looked down at the burnt sponge in my sink, a smile started creeping over my face. This would make for a good post, I thought. Are there any other bloggers out there who are living this "I blog, therefore I am" kind of thought pattern? Always projecting ourselves onto the screen, always writing a phrase to sum up what we're living? Maybe I was always a bit like this, having a penchant for noting down my thoughts or writing running commentaries in my head. Sometimes I can't fully enjoy the moment unadulterated (like when I'm basking in the sun and watching ducks paddle by) because I'm thinking about how I might write about it.

Such is a blogger's fate. Stay tuned for more riveting burnt sponge moments.

Juliette's Time Capsule- 25 months

2010-08-28T14:43:00.006+02:00

Me at 25 months. Well, what to say? I'm a babbling blondie who gets into everything my mommy doesn't want me to. And speaking of her, I usually call her "mommy" but some days after being at the sitter's, it's more "maman" (the French way). Papa is papa and when he's not there I say "papa work". Catki is still Catki and most of the time I like to lay my head on his fur but not when he sits on my Hello Kitty chair. Then I get mad and say "No, Catki!" Or when he gets on the counter in the kitchen (all the time), I say, "Get down, Catki."

One of my favorite games lately is called "nap." I like to climb onto mommy and papa's bed by pulling out the under bed drawer to use as a step. I know to take my shoes off when I'm on the bed, so I say "Shoes" and mommy helps me get them off. Or if they're these white ones which I wish I could wear everyday, I can usually get them off myself. So to play "nap" you basically just roll around the bed and giggle and sometimes you pull the blanket or sheet over your head. Mommy loves to do that.

Other games I like to play are "coworing" (coloring) and it's a good thing grandma in the US got me washable crayons and markers, 'cause sometimes mommy gets a little agitated if I color on furniture or walls.

My favorite TV shows and movies: Wonder Pets and The Tigger Movie (on DVD), Elmo stuff (on Youtube) and Pocoyo (a Spanish-made computer-generated cartoon shown on French TV.) For Wonder Pets I like to sing along, and I can say "wonner pets", "teamwork" and "serious" (more like seewius) which are in the songs. Ming Ming the duck is my favorite.

As for food, I don't always want it when they want me to eat it. But I'm eating a bit better. Pasta is always nice. And ham. And chicken. Green beans, peas, tomatoes. Mom's chicken curry and rice is ok, too. Yogurts and applesauce and peaches and of course cookies and chocolate. Keep that chocolate coming. So good. When mommy goes to the bakery I always ask for "brehh" afterwards and she gives me a little piece. I also like pain au chocolat, and when they get those little sacks from the bakery, I know there's good stuff in them. (Mommy says: this video's long, but I'm still learning how to use my FlipVideo software and couldn't quite figure out how to cut it without deleting the file...)

Speaking of brehh, when we've got some dried pieces we feed the ducks. I love to go see them and if mom lets me, I get down and walk around a bit. Of course, I get angry when she wants me to get back in the stroller so sometimes she gives me a cookie and I go a bit more willingly.

My favorite books are the Wonder Pets in Italy, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What do you see? and The Baby Colors book. I don't know my colors yet, but "yellow" is a nice word to say.

Soon I'll be the biggest kid at the sitter's, since Thibaud and Hugo are going to school. I'm not sure what that is, but there seems to be a lot of hubub about it. As for me, I won't go there till I'm three, mommy says. I think that's a long way away. So I'm fine doing my own thing till then.

Summer in bloom

2010-08-25T15:20:00.010+02:00

Before launching into the theme of my post, thanks to all those who commented so kindly on my last post. I suppose I was really needing a bit of advice/sympathy, and it helped me to know I wasn't the only one feeling those pangs of homesickness and worry about the future. I guess there are just going to be moments when it's tough, and you try to refocus and find reasons to keep on going. And as I've read on some other expat blogs lately, focusing on your next trip home or good things and plans in your adopted country can help with that.

So way back when I mentioned doing some photo-themed posts. And as summer only has a month to go (and judging by today's weather, sort of ominous clouds, maybe it's over!), I better post now before the title is out of date. So here are some photos fleuries (flowery photographs) from my summer travels and from around my own town:

Roses in Etrétat, Normandy.

Geraniums in Honfleur, Normandy.

Hydrangeas in an overgrown garden in Le Crotoy, bay town of Picardie.

And growing in funny places in Dover.

Oh, and how'd a baby picture get in there? Oh, but there are flowers hanging over the rail! Taken in St. Valéry sur Somme.

One of the shady houses in my favorite courtyards in my own town.

Hopefully there will be some more sunny days before big bad autumn sets in so we can enjoy these flowers a bit longer. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may..."

Mixed emotions

2010-08-21T14:37:00.005+02:00

We spent Thursday at Remi’s granddad’s place. Since his parents are on holiday and his granddad no longer drives, we try to make sure we have a meal with his him every week (salmon, rice and green beans this time). Plus Remi had some garden clean-up he wanted to do for him. So we made a day of it and brought Juliette along, too.

"Je suis au jardin." (I'm in the garden. Dédé's message to any who might come by while he's not inside.)

The weather was really lovely, except for a bit of a nip in the air in the morning. All the better to enjoy some of that country life. I do like letting Juliette get to move about more freely in her great-granddad’s courtyard and discover the joys of lady bugs crawling over her hand and saying “bye bye, chicken” to the errant hen that was in his garden. I get to enjoy the more simple pleasures of picking a few flowers to fill a glass for Dédé’s (that’s what Remi called him when he was little) table and collecting some windfall apples and plums from the trees on his property.

But these days in the country always lead to a bit of tension between Remi and me. He’d love for us to live out in the country, maybe even in the village where his granddad lives. I’m not totally against country living, but I just don’t want to have to drive an enormous amount to get to a decent job. And considering I’m only part-time at two jobs which sometimes equals full-time even in the bigger city where we live now, I don’t have very high hopes for the far out country. I’m not an adamant city mouse, but I did grow up in the very well-equipped suburbs of the biggest city in my state (Birmingham, Alabama), with over a million people in the metro area. Which has one of the finest medical centers in the country, I’d like to add. And now in my current city in France, I live within a five- to fifteen-minute walk from pharmacies, doctors and fairly well-stocked grocery stores. I adore not having to take my car to do some of these errands. But I know that the country can be peaceful on a fine summer’s day. I too would love a little garden patch to let my little one run around in.

This day with Dédé scratched at another little situation, too. Though I enjoy spending time with his family, I often get a pinch of regret that I can’t spend as much time with my own. There I was making a meal for Remi’s granddad, listening to his old stories (the ones he’s repeated already, but I listen to politely anyway). And I was wishing I could spend as much time with my grandma back home, turning 79 this Wednesday (early birthday shout-out!). When I told this to Remi the next day, he said “sorry” in such a sincere way that it made me feel even sadder.

Is this what an expat’s life must be? To be thousands of miles away from the people you grew up with and only see them once a year, maybe twice if you’re lucky and finances permit? I knew it would be tough when I made the decision to come here eight years ago. But it’s still tough, sometimes bearable, sometimes not so much. And until I win the lottery and can travel back at my leisure, I don’t see how I can make it much better. Though I made the choice to be here, I am forever divided. On sunny summer days when we’re exploring lovely seaside towns or historic villages, I can be distracted; I can say I’m having fun. But I’m always thinking about writing the folks back home about it. It might seem silly to say I’m homesick after so long in France, but so it is. And no amount of medical research has found a cure for this “sickness” yet.

If any other expats, or those a bit far-out from their families in their own country, have some insight on this, I’m all ears.

And the winner is...

2010-08-17T12:41:00.004+02:00

Well, the first three responses were quite right. Yes, Crystal, it is a gourd. Yes, mom, a type of squash. But Jennet has amazed me with her squash knowledge: the exact name is a patty-pan according to my online dictionary. It has a milder taste than zucchini and is nice served cold or room temperature in a vinaigrette (must be peeled and cooked, I should mention!). Remi's parents grow it in their garden.

As you can tell by my blogging frequency, I've got a bit more time on my hands lately. With an amazing two hours and 15 minutes of lessons this week, I guess I'm goofing off more often. If only I were paid for it...

Animal, vegetable or mineral?

2010-08-16T14:52:00.003+02:00

A virtual prize to the first person who can give me the correct name of this thing.

Adventures with Charlotte

2010-08-14T16:50:00.009+02:00

I tried to cross off things on my to do list. I sort of organized the bookshelf (the messiest parts are better). I sort of organized the closet (again, the most urgent areas). And sort of put photos in albums (just didn't finish). And I sort of made a charlotte aux fraises, the French style strawberry shortcake. This being the Lazy Girl's Blog, I took the easy route and found a self-proclaimed easy recipe on the Internet. Instead of messing with the gelatine leaves and such, I tried this recipe which calls for plain yogurt (actually fromage frais, but plain yogurt would do it, too). I was petrified I wouldn't be able to get the thing out of the pan afterwards, but as you'll see below, it worked out ok. However, the lady fingers were a bit soggy from the yogurt seeping into them, so any ideas on how to avoid that would be helpful.

Here's a journey in pictures with the instructions as well for those willing to try.

1. Dip lady fingers (if they're the hard kind at least) into a bowl of milk that you've sweetened to taste. Dip quickly then start placing in your casserole dish which you've lined with aluminum foil (my dish is about 4 inches tall/10cm, but you could go a bit higher).

2. Now add sugar to taste to your fromage frais or plain yogurt. It calls for one kilogram which is a bit more than 35 ounces. You could also use vanilla which is already sweetened or why not strawberry, too. Put a layer of the yogurt in your casserole. Followed by a layer of sliced strawberries. Continue the layers. If your dish is big enough you can put a second layer of lady fingers in the middle.

3. Finish with a layer of lady fingers. Cover with a plate or alumnium foil and refrigerate over night or at least all day.

4. When ready to serve, put plate over the dish so that it will be on the flat side to receive the charlotte. Holding plate and dish together, turn it all over and set it down on the counter. Carefully remove casserole dish and then foil. And hopefully it will all stick together and look something like this.

Garnish with strawberries or whipped cream. Hmm, I just had an idea. Instead of yogurt, why not try whipped cream for the layers. Less soggy perhaps?

I want to try a real charlotte recipe soon. Or a tiramisu with rasberries. I'll keep you posted.

Culinary racism: it could happen to you!

2010-08-11T16:14:00.002+02:00

I accused my husband of being a culinary racist the other day. This was after I asked him, carefully concealing my enthusiasm/pride, if he'd enjoyed our meal. The one I'd (lovingly) prepared for him while making sure our beloved two-year-old didn't stick her fingers in sockets etc. It wasn't haute cuisine, but it was a nice mix of tasty food and I'd made an effort.

His reply, "Yes, it was simple, but good."

Ouch. This is not exactly a compliment coming from a French person. This is like telling your kindergartener that the drawing of rainbows and stick figures is no Da Vinci, but it's coming along.

Luckily I've been in France long enough, and around my husband long enough, I might add, that I don't burst into tears at these double-edged sword type "compliments". But it bugged me. And as we were drifting off to sleep that night I continued asking him about it. Not in a confrontational way (for once) but repeating neutrally that I'd taken the time to prepare this meal for him.

I even tried the "I-statements". As in, "I feel like you're making fun of me a bit when you say that." He swore he wasn't. I think the French food snob, er, I mean, expert in him couldn't help but comment on the complexity, or lack thereof, of the meal. I suppose it's genetic.

On the other hand, he can be downright territorial about the American desserts I make. He nearly pouted when I made chocolate chip cookies for his birthday when one of his friends was also there to sample them. Less for Remi, of course. And when I recently made madeleines, those delicate French scallop shaped cakes, he said, yes, but it's a French dessert. Since when am I not allowed to make French desserts?

Next time I'll just make hotdogs and brownies and maybe everybody will be happy.