Mom in France

Holiday Season Starts *Now*!

Here is my only attempt at Halloween decoration. Thanks to Dad & Tammy who brought this to me on their first trip.  Otherwise, I'd have absolutely nothing.  Am I a bad American because I haven't dressed up my kids in Gymboree costumes for the photo-op?  So far Boo knows nothing about Halloween.

However, the retailers definitely know what the Americans know:  Halloween portends the start of the holiday shopping season.  Yesterday I was at the one mall on the Riviera which is publicly celebrating its 40th year (and it shows!).  The Galeries Lafayette - the Macy's of France - was putting up the Christmas window display complete with animatron fluffy animals. I also saw a transvestite in the parking lot (6 feet tall, blond, fuzzy hot-pink shrug) barking into her phone.  I received an "invitation" from the local garden and home-ware center to visit the opening on Saturday of their Christmas village.

So.  I'm skipping over Halloween except for a token costume party tomorrow night (going as a beatnik if you must ask) and heading towards Thanksgiving (turkey's on order!).  The big question:  If you have two kids under 3, and you aren't going to be home during Christmas week, do you still have to get a tree?

My Three Hour Vacation

As I mentioned at the end of my rant, we left to go to the beach in Juan-les-Pins.  I was wearing my fall outfit - cords, J.Crew Tshirt and PJ Flyers sneakers.  Walking along the street just a few yards from the beach this was fine.

However, on the beach I was boiling.  The 60-ish lady next to me as topless, the toddler with her family on the other side was au nature and here I was, dressed like a New England college student and laden with a giant diaper bag and baby in a car seat.  E traveled light with his swim trunks under his jeans and just a towel.

After E's half hour swim (yes, swimming on the 26th of October.  It's not Miami, but still), we ate lunch at at a favorite spot, Le Paradis.  Here's our table just next to the beach:

 

Not bad,huh?  After a glass of champagne and a three-course lunch that Little Guy slept halfway through I was an almost-new woman.  This was topped off by an afternoon nap- the first real nap in months. Ahhh...

Today, this:

The 60-Second Rant

When I was a teenager a friend and I had a pact. When either of us became too complaining or repetitively whiny, we would allow each other 60 seconds to rant without interruption, after which all annoying comments must stop and we would move on.  I remember that all those irritations what stumped me rarely filled a full-minute of rant and I spent the last 15 seconds trying to fish out any remaining gripes.

I need this tradition back. Today's rant doesn't have much to do about living in France, though I've certainly had times when it was ALL about that.  It's more of a Suburban Mom Gets the Blues.  I know, mundane.

Anyway, here goes:

I've been sick all week along with Boo and resent that I catch everything that comes our way and always get it much worse.  I've been "sleeping" for the last 3 nights propped up on pillows listening to Boo wheezing close by and having swine flu dreams.  I will not hesitate to vaccinate if given the opportunity.

Due to aforementioned illness my body is slow and my brain is fuzzy. My right ear is clogged and I feel like an old granny, asking everyone to repeat themselves and shouting a little when I talk.

My house is a mess.  It rained heavy Mediterranean rain earlier in the week and despite our efforts there is now detritus all over the house.  E left this big muddy footprint on the just-cleaned floor:

Oh, and I'm enjoying postpartum hair loss with hair coming out in clumps when I wash it as well as when it damn well pleases.  It's all over everything. 

The mosquitoes will not go away!  I mean, it's the end of October for crissakes' and they are still buzzing around.  I'm taking out my frustration on them:

I'm feeling a bit worried about my non-mom life. Work is looming (more on that later) and has me grouchy and preoccupied.

And...and...and..my cat puked on my bed this past weekend -- I'll spare you any visual. The time change is wreaking havoc with kids' schedule -- 5.30am wake-up call Sunday and Monday.  Seriously, they should put little kids into the Torture Handbook at the CIA.

Whew!  I feel much better, thanks.  E, or as he likes to be called "Super-Husband" has taken the day off.  Boo is with his nounou.  We are headed to the beach to bask and to eat lunch with my feet in the sand. See? Even when a Rant is needed, at least there is an escape.  See you later!

Fall at Our House

Dummy or Thumb?

All the books said..."Don't!",  but I was so tired of Boo sucking from me just for snuggle comfort that after 3 weeks I caved.  It was one of the first decisions I felt guilty about because it was against the "official" advice and I felt for the first time that I was doing it for me and not for him.  However, the green light came from a friend and mom of 3 who nonchalantly said, "oh why not".  She knew what I didn't: That this was just such a small thing compared to the others I would confront.  So I did it.  From that first moment he never looked back. We've been through dozens, and he uses it in bed as his lovey, holding on to the nipple while he sleeps.

Now he's one of *those* toddlers with that stupid thing in his mouth.  Luckily, it's becoming more of a guilty pleasure when no one else is around: in the car, in bed.

After caving in, I actually found it rather convenient and was a bit proud even -- at least he doesn't suck his thumb, I told people. When it's time, I can take it away. (Easier said than done, btw).

And now: Little Guy comes along and couldn't give a dang about the pacifier.  Spits it out.  Will only use it on the way to dreamland.  From the first week he's been trying the thumb. Now he alternates between left thumb and the index and middle finger of his right hand.  Like he's trying to decide which is best.  I hate to think how long this will go on (3 years? 10 years? 20?).  I have images that it becomes so subconscious that he won't be able to keep a girlfriend because he'll start sucking his thumb in his sleep.

I'm gloating no more.  Now what seemed like my choices appear to be their preferences and demands expressing themselves.  I am amazed that these first glimmers of personality emerge so early.  I'm so grateful for Little Guy to show me that he's his own person.

A Day Out at Gréolières

Here is a bit of Show-and-Tell.  Last weekend we went up to Gréolières, in the back-country of the Alpes-Maritimes and about a 40 minute drive from our house so E could do a bit of paragliding, a sport he's been practising since he was a teenager in the Pyrénées.  It's a great place to go for the non-fliers too because the landing is just next to the village and there is a small playground where Boo can play and watch the paragliders in the air.  The normal visit follows a routine.  We arrive and settle in at the playground around 10am.  E hikes us the trail to the take-off and flies for about 45 minutes, landing around noon.  We pack up and walk to the village and eat a homey meal at La Barricade.  the owner has 4 kids, the youngest the same age as Boo and they are often there eating lunch so the run around playing together while the rest of us eat.

The following photos are from previous visits, but they are all more or less the same. Petit Fé, at 3 months, is too young to notice much.  He slept the whole time in his stroller.

Below is a view of the landing field and village from the road leading up to the take-off. 

E in the air, on approach:

Boo can see his Papa!

Whew! On the ground.

Want to try it?  Here's more info about flying in Gréo.

Ecole Cumulus (in English): The local flying school.

Au Gré de l'Air (in French): The local club website 

Map from ViaMichelin

American Cuisine

When anyone asks me what I miss about living in the US, I always have the same answer: The food.  For those who know know me, they know I love food.  And I'm lucky to live in a country of one of the world's great cuisines ( I guess they won't be showing "Julie and Julia" here).  But there's something to be said about American comfort food - I think it's among the best.  During the first couple of weeks in Nashville, when we were indulging a lot, I realized that all this comfort food is very naughty.  None of it is "healthy" in the traditional sense, but it was good. 

As fun as it was for me to get my fill, and then finally be back home among my veggies and lighter fare, it was even more fun to introduce Boo to this new culture, his food culture inheritance.  The biggest challenge I had was that he's not a finger-food kind of guy. The French are a knife and fork culture, even eating fruits whole at table with a knife and fork, carefully peeling, cutting, coring right on the plate.  Boo only knows how to eat with a fork and spoon and will only pick something up with his fingers in order to get it on the fork or spoon and into his mouth.  He made me proud by eating with his usual relish.  Here's a partial list of the things he ate for the very first time:

• Grilled Cheese.  Every day. Sometimes more than once.
• Cheerios
• American-style pizza
• Popsicles at Fido
• S'mores
• Rainer cherries (pigged out!  He insisted on having a separate bowl for the pits and stems)
• Bacon
• Dipped cone at Bobby's Dairy Dip
• Chicken fingers (didn't like them, even the handmade gourmet ones)
• Quesadillas
• Blueberry muffin
• Chocolate Milkshake at Rotier's

Because we were in survival mode, Boo ate few vegetables.  At the end of our trip he gorged on broccoli and ever since we've been home he's been more than happy to eat veggies without any special cajoling or sneakiness on my part.

Picture source: Serious Eats

Driving in France

Today is the 7th anniversary of my move to France.  Usually, I forget because the date on my visa is one month later, but as I was thinking about this post, I remembered.  My mom was here for 10 days and she spent last week visiting with Australian friends who had rented a house in one of the hilltop villages in the Département Var, just to the west of us.  Listening to her tales of the road made me remember what it was like in those early days.

Moving to France gave me a second childhood.  Everything was new.  New food, language and customs.  But also the color of sunlight and the smells and taste of the air. I was suffering from serious sensory overload and trying to adapt at what seemed a snail's pace and function as an adult. In this context, I remember driving and trying to make sense of the customs on the road, the fact that I was supposed to drive right up to the stoplight, leave my left signal one while passing someone, and try to figure out how to navigate.

On my first visits, long before I moved, I was afraid to drive.  Mostly I was afraid to get lost or end up on a tiny road unable to manoeuvre.  Things changed in phases.  First, E and I went on a 3-day road trip through Provence.  He set the Michelin Guide Routiere in my lap and I learned how to navigate using these colorful maps.  We would often arrive someplace and I couldn't find it on the map, but eventually I made friends with Michelin.  The second phase was to make sense of the roads.  France is a country of roundabouts with signs pointing the way.  Street signs, though present, are mostly useless since by the time I see it, it's too late.  Or I may not know the road I'm on.  I figured out early that the directional signs were very helpful.  They may not always lead me on the fastest route, but I never get lost.  The trick, which my mom has learned in her visits here, is to look at the map and see the main towns in between where she is and where she wants to go.  Then follow the signs like stepping stones until arriving at the destination.

Parking is another story altogether.

Map Image:  Copyright Michelin from ViaMichelin