Five reasons I'm screaming

Now you know I'm all about anger management.  More assertive than aggressive (with a side of passive pouting now and then).  But sometimes a girl's gotta scream.  Literally or figuratively.  Because when you push this girl a little too far, things happen.  Screams happen.  Find out why:

1. Because French doctors need to get a clue

Recent real conversation between me and the on call doc on the phone:

Me: When I spit it's green.
Le docteur: You mean when you expectorate it's green.
Me: Yeah, when I expectorate... I'm not French, I don't know all the technical words.
Le docteur: So can you cough for me now?
Me: COUGH.
Me: Well, normally it's a hacky cough.
Le docteur: That's not a very hacky cough.
Me: Yeah, well, normally it is...

After three doctors I finally got the treatment I think I need.  Did it really need to take this long?

Recommended scream: Silent scream. I'm sick, remember?

2.  Because "communication" and "work" generally don't go in the same sentence.
Unless that sentence is, "Geez, communication at work is kinda crappy."  Now, I'm not targeting my company.  Just all companies.  Cause there always comes a point when you shake your hands in the air and wonder why you wasted your breath making a suggestion.  Only to receive a "yeah, thanks, but no thanks."

Or you think you've found a way to make things a bit easier but receive a "we'll see..." which means "around, oh, say, never."

(Source)
"Yeah, if you could keep all comments and suggestions to yourself, that'd be great."

Recommended scream: Permanent sigh and head bang against cubicle wall.

3. Because my husband has a problem with his computer.  Again.
My husband is a really smart guy.  He can tell you exactly how much fertilizer you need for a thousand geraniums.  Or calculate the profit margin in his head in two seconds.  He's not bad with computers.  But I'm his go to girl when something goes wrong.  Because if there's one thing he's not, it's patient.

If I had a euro (cause it's stronger than the dollar today) for everytime he's said, "come here, my printer's not working," I'd be richer than Bill Gates and the late Steve Jobs combined.  And let's throw Ashton Kutscher in there since he portrayed Jobs in the movie.  And he's cute.

Real conversation with my husband:

Him: Come here a second (after banging his fist on desk in frustration with technology)
Me: Er, you got a problem there?
Him: Computer won't print and it's urgent (note from me: it's always urgent.)
Me: Did you try turning everything on and off again?
Him: Yeah.
Me: Did you try reinitializing the wifi?
Him: No.
Me: Let's do that.
Him: Still not working.
Me: Ok, try printing off my tablet.
Him:  Ok, it's working.
Me: And what do you say after someone helps you?
Him: Uh, merci.

Recommended scream: Audible sigh and heavy eye-rolling.

4. Because I have to repeat "get dressed/let's go/eat your toast" about a million times.

She is precious and a half.  She is smart and sweet.  She's also a slowpoke or purposefully stubborn.    Maybe some parents at this point would pop their kids.  I don't think it helps much in these cases.  Maybe I'm losing my credibility with her.  But sometimes nearly six year olds take their own sweet time and choose not to listen one bit to their well-meaning parents.  So as I stand at the sink saying for the ninth time that it's time to brush your teeth, I think I'm gonna lose it. And sometimes I do.

Recommended scream: well, you shouldn't really scream.  But it happens.  So, gritted teeth scream followed by "Mommies get frustrated sometimes" speech.

5. Because I don't even know why I bother to clean this place.
It is so typical.  I come home around 5:30 or 6 and have to think about dinner, maybe a load of laundry, playing with Juju, hearing about her day, oh, and I need some chocolate, and...WHAT is that smell?  The cat has graced us with some powerful stuff in his litterbox.  Hubby won't be home till 7:30 or 8.  So it once again falls to me to do the scooping.  Plus grains of litter on the floor, again.  My next house pet will be a robo-fish.

Recommended scream: Charley Brown-like Aaarrrrggghh and zen breathing.

There, I feel better having gotten that off my chest.  Now if I could get rid of this chest cold.  And get a maid.  And start telling people to "talk to the hand" cause the Milam ain't listening (if people even still say that).

What makes you scream?!  And what is your best way to deal with it?

Another day, another playdate

I was sitting at my friend's white wooden table, freshly covered with marker scribble scrabble. The mom in question didn't mind that our collective group of kids had created some modern art on her table.  With a casual wave of her hand she said don't worry about it.  As we moms moved our heads in closer to talk about something or another, our conversation was interrupted by the piercing screams of our under 6s as they pretended to flee the "dragon". 

It was a playdate, one of many I've had the privilege to attend or host in these past few years.  Sometimes there's an official reason, like Halloween, but it ends up being non-stop playing by the kids and tea and muffins with the moms and sometimes dads. 

Thank God that some mom somewhere thought up this concept.  Maybe it wasn't truly a concrete idea at first but more like two desperate moms who needed a cup of coffee and the toddlers were obliged to tag along.  And the moms winked at each other at some point as their kids wreaked havoc and they sort of had an adult conversation and said, we're on to something.

Not long ago I read an article in a French parenting magazine where they talked about this rather American/English concept of the playdate.  They just kept the word in English, leading me to wonder if this concept didn't quite exist in France. I think it does, and my French mom colleague agreed.  Maybe it's just not so defined here. 

At any rate I'd say that expat moms need playdates a wee bit more than ones living in their home country.  Because not only are we dealing with all the mom-fatigue but also those issues of parenting outside our native countries.  So in addition to conversatins about how our kindergarteners are giving us lip, we talk about how French schools are seemingly stricter than US ones.  Or maybe just different.  (What's with teaching cursive to five-year-olds?!)

That said I also have playdates with French coworkers and even coworkers who happen not to have kids but are extremely welcoming of little ones.  The most important ingredient is just being with friends and worrying a little less about your kids.  And don't forget the muffins!

Me vs. The Buggies

I'm on my 39th load of laundry this week (give or take).  My comforter and duvet cover and one fluffy seat cushion are drying on the balcony in the sort of warm sun.  Last weekend it was curtains and the other seat cushions and sheets.  And there's a host of other bed clothes and the couch's slipcover which are in garbage bags tucked away where I can find space and which are awaiting their turn in the spin cycle. 

And everything smells faintly of lavendar as apparently this is repulsive to head lice.

Head lice have become my number one enemy since Juliette has had a few mild cases of them this year. Strangely I never saw one bug or egg until this, her third year of pre-school.  (I will not gross you out with photos of head lice, but feel free to Google it if you're a masochist.)  And to make matters worse, the cat has fleas.  He's an inside cat!  But he had some scabs on his ear and when the vet used her special comb she found a few live fleas and plenty of flea poop (uh, sorry if you were eating).  And that was just from combing one small area of his fur. 

So that's why I have had to go into Extreme Cleaning Mode.  Again.  Thankfully my husband got us a kick-a** Hoover vacuum last summer (don't worry, I told him appliances are cool but not really romantic gifts).  But it was a wise choice considering how many surfaces need to be vacuumed with the double whammy of fleas and lice. 

I haven't even gotten around to mopping the floors or even completely combing poor Catki (but I did buy the brush). 

Meanwhile I'm becoming well-versed on anti-lice and anti-flea techniques.  It seems lice don't like lavendar or tea tree oil so spreading this on scarves and the backs of shirts can repel them from your child's head.  However, for kids under 12 avoid putting essential oils on their skin, since my pharmacist said this can have adverse effects on them if it gets in their bloodstream.  I've been putting it in the laundry though. 

White vinegar kills lice well but try spreading it on your kid's scalp and there will be crying!  The pediatrician said you can comb it in mesh by mesh to avoid the acid getting in their eyes.  But it does work well cleaning hairbrushes and combs.  I tried a lotion called EcoPrioderm that supposedly kills the lice by suffocation as it's very oily.  They say this prevents lice from becoming resistant as it's a physical and not chemical method.

As for fleas, I went ahead and treated the carpet, chair and couch with an anti-flea product that had to stay on 3 hours while we got out of the house.  But I've since read that spreading salt and baking soda on your carpet overnight and rubbing it in with the broom will kill fleas and eggs.  But don't let your cat or kid on the carpet during this time as the salt could get on them.

Meanwhile, I pray I won't see Juliette scratching her head again.  Or me for that matter.  And I am feeling very tired from all this EXTRA cleaning AND a lingering head cold AND a regular work week!  Is it too early to think about a vacation?

Work in progress

I have inherited my mother's dislike of clutter.  However I have a five and half year-old who has so many toys you'd think we actually have three kids instead of one.  I also have a husband who likes to leave things around and I myself am not very good at keeping up with my paperwork.  Résultat: when I walk into my apartment there is a "pleasant" sense of disorder;  I try to look past it and see the cheerful colors, but I generally get absorbed by all those dust bunnies and suddenly I feel all yucky inside.  I'm not a perfectionist about housekeeping by any means.  But I keep wishing things were cleaner around here.


The problem with me is that it takes years (literally) for me to finish projects.  I think I mull things over a long time and I am also limited by time and help since Remi works a good part of the weekends or we spend maybe a third or closer to half of all Sundays at his greenhouse.   Excuses, excuses.  Maybe I just don't have the get up and go to throw things out and clear spaces.  Maybe I'd rather blog or make muffins or chill than get into radical clean mode.

But I finally decided to take action on at least one corner.  I'm 99% on the way to getting rid of my dinosaur computer from 2005 that I no longer use.  Gotta wipe the hardrive before I take it to the recycling center (any advice on that?) but I did manage to fit the old computer desk in my miniscule car and get it out of the apartment.  Good friend Caro and her obliging husband helped me get a new Ikea shelf box in my car.  Remi helped screw in the tough parts but I'm proud to say I did most of the constructing of my shelf (score for womankind).

BEFORE (Mega problems getting iPad photos in right position!)

AFTER

And slowly but surely one corner is slightly more functional, which allows me to clear clutter in other areas.  I'm still so far from my dream world of storage space for everything.  Does anyone remember this Rubbermaid ad where the family organizes their house with storage tubs?  Check out the 90s hair!




I still find myself thinking my life would be perfect if only surfaces were cleaner.  That's just not true.  Sometimes I do have to remind myself, the dust and grime can wait, Juju doesn't care about a clean house but just having fun.  But part of me keeps thinking just one more storage unit might solve all my problems!  And that this would be a truly dreamy living room (minus the bear rug!).  Check out more cool ideas from their website: http://www.digsdigs.com/ikea-storage-organization-ideas-2013/

Child of the 70s

I was born in 1974.  I have pictures of me wearing those striped t-shirts in colors that are "so 70s".  And though there was a period of time when I certainly shunned the 70s (as a teen or young adult), I've got to say there's some nostalgia in me too.

Of course only having spent my pre-school years in the 70s, I wasn't conscious enough to realize how much technology they did NOT have.  It is pretty amazing to imagine a world without the instant gratification of listening to the track you want immediately on a CD or better yet, youtube or mp3s.  It seems almost quaint.

And I really dig some 70s music that brings back childhood memories.  I like to go back to that aural universe and remember car rides home in the dusk with my parents or imagine us listening to albums (on record players or tape decks) way back when.

It would be hard to pick just one album that signifies the 70s to me.  Let me say I don't like ALL 70s music.  There is some that makes me cringe.  And some that I sing along to at top volume.   Enjoyed the film with Simon Pegg Paul that featured a lot of classics from that era.

So on my 70s music "must list", I'd put:
The Eagles: "New Kid in Town"
Steve Miller Band: "The Joker"
Jerry Rafferty: "Right down the Line"
ABBA: AHHH, ABBA, so many good ones!  Of course, "Dancing Queen" or "Fernando".
Supertramp: "Breakfast in America"

And if I'm feeling campy, then I'd go with:
The Carpenters: "Close to You"
Starland Vocal Band: "Afternoon Delight" (gotta love the super cheesy version from Anchorman)

If you hardly recognize any of these, you might be a child of the 80s or 90s.  That's ok, cause I'm one of those kids, too.  Stay tuned for my "best of" for these decades later.

Meanwhile, I'd like to thank my parents for exposing me to their music.  Including the classic guitar riffs of Dire Straits. 

Have you got a favorite song (or one that makes you wince!) from the 70s?  Embrace your inner bell-bottoms and tell me!

Stuck in the middle with you

I wish this post were just as fun as this song.  But it's more like that scene in Reservoir Dogs that it is heard in.  About as much fun as getting your ear cut off.

Cause airport snafus and delays are probably akin to hell.  Ok, these are decidedly first world problems, I know.  But when we learned that our flight to Atlanta was delayed by two hours, we knew we were in for a bumpy ride.  By the time we touched down, our connecting flight to Paris was already boarding and once we got to the gate there was no agent to be found.  Thus ensued a crazy 36 hours of stress and international travel.

In the middle of one of the biggest holiday travel weekends

I should have known that everybody and their brother would be travelling back that weekend after New Year's.  That's why it was nearly impossible for us to get another flight back to Paris that evening.  Though I begged to be put on standby for the next flight, the agents made it clear it was unlikely we'd get a seat as there were already 15 folks on standby.  This was Friday night.  At one point they told me they could get me out on a flight leaving Tuesday.  Thus arriving in Paris Wednesday!  What?!

In the middle of a winter storm

The fact that a lot of the northern flights had been cancelled or delayed due to the snow up that way wasn't helping matters.  In Atlanta there was no snow at all, just bitter temps, but the effects of all those flights was being felt down south too.  So we cut our losses and got a hotel voucher for the night.

In the middle of a nightmare

Do you ever have that recurring dream where you try to dial a number and can't get through?  I do.  And I lived it.  Once at the hotel I discovered that my room's phone didn't work.  And silly me hadn't thought to activate my French cell phone in the US.  I had to ask to change rooms to get one with a functioning phone.  And when I used that one the cord fell out during my call home to my mom.  Luckily I finally figured out how to use the hotel wifi on my tablet to message my family and check on flights.

In the middle of customer service life lessons

The next morning I took the airport shuttle back to the Delta counter and luckily got in line before things got too hairy.  I still had to wait a good 45 minutes to speak with an agent.  I explained my situation calmly (but with a slight look of desperation on my face!) and luckily she worked her computer system magic and got us on standby for a flight that afternoon.  I told her she was an angel and that made her smile.  I almost added that I hoped I wouldn't need to see her again.  That would have been bad luck, I figured.  It wouldn't have mattered, as it turns out.

In the middle of a major (and humongous) international airport

ATL is a big airport for those who don't know it.  After I got my magical standby tickets I called Remi at the hotel (using the Delta counter phone since I didn't have my own) and told him to pack up the room and come with Juliette on the shuttle.  Get off at the first stop and wait for me.  Thing is, somehow we missed each other and he and Juliette kept wandering around the terminal looking for me.  With no cell phones we couldn't find each other.  We paged each other and my mom was even calling at some points via page. 

And that's how I saw my "angel" agent again, since I needed her help to page Remi.  She was a bit worse for wear after dealing with so many bedraggled passengers.  I seemed to be in another nightmare!   Finally I heard a page for me telling me to go to the international terminal.  But the helpdesk lady told me to go through security to take the little subway to get there.

In the middle of bowl game season

So I went through the snakey security line and said "War Eagle" to a few Auburn fans who were on their way to Pasadena to see AU play Florida State.  My Alma mater didn't win but I had fun chatting with the orange-clad fans while I panciked about getting reunited with my little family.  I envied those travelers just doing some frivolous little trip and not being lost or delayed!

In the middle, literally

Somehow I finally found Remi and Juliette.  After arriving in the international gate, I realized what all the security agents had been telling me, that Remi and Juju couldn't be in that part of the airport yet as I had their passports and boarding passes.  So I went upstairs to the external check-in area and caught a glimpse of my little girl's bright pink coat and blond curls and knew I'd found them.  Remi and Juju were accompanied by two Delta agents who were helping them page/find me.  I thanked these other two "angels" for their help and we officially checked in for our flight.  

But wait, we were just on standby, remember?  Luckily the agents called us and said they had seats. Three midde seats.  Beggars and airport refugees can't be choosers so we took those seats.  And I had to then beg about four different men to switch out with us so I could sit next to Juliette.  This proved to be quite hard as it seems nobody wants to be in the middle on a transAtlantic flight.  Finally one tall black man gave in, and he was my last "angel" of that very long day.

In the middle of Mindy!

While back in the US I discovered the totally fun TV series The Mindy Project.  Since I can't sleep well on flights, I spent most of those eight-ish hours watching the on-demand system.  Broadchurch, a British mini-series, some Psych episodes and three more Mindy's!  Check out one of my favorite scenes. Thank heaven for small miracles.

So now it's been three weeks since we returned and jet lag is over, Christmas nostalgia fading.  But I won't soon forget what it felt like to be in the middle of that crazy travel nightmare...

Things French people buy at Christmas

It's that time of year again, when the French grocery store is overtaken by rich foods that will be gobbled up during the holidays.  This is a country known for its food so no wonder the foodiest of holidays is  a major eating fest.  And while a typical American holiday meal will consist of ham or turkey and an assortment of sides, the French tend to go with seafood or totally rich foie gras.  Check out what I found in my aisles last Saturday.

What better to serve your foie gras on than these cute little toasts!  Frankly the duck paté is too rich for me.  Only in small quantities, please!

Smoked salmon is often served as a starter.  This is not actually cooked in the true sense of the word but literally smoked beforehand and then eaten cold.  Finally a dish I can get behind.

Special aluminum dishes for cooking your snails.  Covered in garlicky butter sauce, of course.  Not really my favorite.

Dessert is a subject I'm more interested in.  The famous "bûche de Noël" is a cake shaped like a log and usually made by rolling up a sheet cake with a filling inside.  Often covered with a butter frosting;

The "galette des Rois", or Kings' cake is filled with applesauce or an almond paste.  The person who gets the little ceramic figurine in his piece is the "king" and gets to wear the crown.

Look who I found in my shopping cart!  Perched on the cat litter boxes!  

Happy eating!PS: I'll be eating in the US this Christmas, by the way, and couldn't be happier!