Family time

Good lord. What a weekend. I think that the girls had a great time, atleast. B and I, on the otherhand, are ready for the sanatorium. The traffic was horrific, for a start, and Georgia is no good in the car which makes for a hellish voyage, no matter what. The weather kept us more or less trapped in the house, because if you dared skip out into the sunshine, the rain was sure to appear 30 seconds later. We missed ¾ of Easter Mass because not only did no one actually check the church schedule, pretty much assuring us problems, but both the time AND the locale was different from normal. Oh well, atleast that meant no wiggly kids to deal with. Church ended before we got to that point. There was no internet at the country house, which was a shock to my system. I really could have used an escape mechanism over the last few days. I suppose it really isn’t any wonder that I got into rather shouty discussions (OK, one of them was an out and out fight) with two members of the stepfamily. I was still having stress dreams about it all last night. Hmm. The only good thing to come out of it all? I will no longer be even a teensy tiny bit guilty about spending every Christmas in the States. Its one thing to have a rather miserable Easter holiday but I will not let these lunatics wreck Christmas.

But there were good things too, so let me make a list to remind myself to not be so whiny:

1. I downloaded The Blind Side on to my laptop and we LOVED it. It was a good film and it made you think and it made me grateful for what I’ve got. I suppose more to the point, it made me feel that rather than worrying about my ‘career’ I should be more worried about what exactly I’m doing to make the world a better place.

2. The girls looked adorable in their Easter dresses and I got some great shots.

3. The Easter egg hunt was a big hit and so were the baskets.

4. My MIL liked the coffee cups! (but she sent the mugs home with me. I’ll never figure this woman out.)

5. It was nice to be out of the city and the apartment to enjoy a bit of space and fresh air.

6. We ate one fantastic meal after another and I didn’t have to cook a single one. Heaven.

And actually, if I’m honest, it does feel good to finally stand up and tell off someone who has been asking for it for ages because he finally steps so far over the line. I would love to tell the whole story here, but I am going to give it a bit more of a think first. I appreciate family harmony as much as the next guy- hey, probably even more because I have a huge family that spends lots and lots of time together. I will never understand people who find it easier to go out of their way to be jerks, rather than just be nice. I’m always telling the girls, ‘Just, be nice.’ Maybe that’s not such a trite thing to say. Its actually great advice. You don’t have to knock yourself out doing amazing things or being brilliantly entertaining. Just, be nice and people will like to have you around. It is that simple.

Last minute

So, B announced rather late last night that I should probably cancel our dinner reservation for Friday night. Why? I asked, confused. Because, he answered me, it will probably be better to leave Friday night since they said on the news that the traffic was predicted to be Rouge on Saturday (rouge=red=hours sitting in standstill traffic to try and leave Paris=screamy babies for many more hours than I can handle).

So it was decided. I thought we would leave when he got home from work at 7:30 but he cleared that up this morning when he asked me to get Ella from school at noon so that we could leave at 3. This means that I have about 4 hours to squeeze in a full day's worth of preparations. So clearly blogging is the best use of my time... I know I know, stupid. But I think I am in denial.

I am just trying to pretend that there is no stress. Georgia spent the last hour bringing me books and sitting on my lap, making me read them over and over again (hence the photo. Ella took that the other day. I asked her to get a shot of me and Georgia and I ended up with a bunch of lovely photos of the book cover. Oh well. You get the idea.)

She has just laid down for a nap. I have an hour and half to perform miracles. I guess since it is Easter weekend, that is sort of the theme, right?

Happy Easter, everyone. May you get lots of chocolate and not be required by the resident 5 year-old sceptic to explain exactly how a rabbit managed to get it all to your house. Google to the rescue?

Summer memories

Finally, Slip n' Slide duty wasn't so bad. The wind picked up so after forcing the kids to do atleast two slides apiece, we let them climb in the hot tub, which was probably more like a warm tub, but it kept them busy for an hour or so. It was funny because there were so many kids squeezed in there, all that they could do was bob up and down, but that was apparently hilarious fun. In the end, all I had to do was sit in a chair, counting heads to make sure no one went under, while I snacked on Chedder Goldfish stolen from my cousin's baby.

It was a nice party, once all the adults arrived. I grew up going to these relaxed summer dinners where around 25-30 people wander in, carrying pasta salads and coolers of drinks. The kitchen is full of women and the yard is full of kids. There is generally somebody in a dusty baseball uniform and the only people guaranteed a chair are over 80. Its not always incredibly well organized (in fact, lack of organization is probably a key ingredient) but it always turns out perfectly, with plenty of food, drinks, and fun. The biggest problem generally involves trying to get your car out of the driveway when you are on your way home but my family solved this problem long ago by developing the understanding that everyone always leaves their keys on dash.

The next day, I was spoiled again with Northern Wisconsin fun by getting dragged out to a little country village, population about 36, for the Sportmen's Club Pancake Breakfast- all you can eat breakfast on picnic tables in the middle of the cornfields followed by a baseball game between two local teams. An afternoon of popcorn and beer in the sun left us all sunburned and exhausted. Ella is finally a real baseball diamond kid- she spent the entire afternoon running around barefoot with a pack of little kids, begging soda and candy off anyone who was sucker enough to fall for her cute little pout. She took off her shoes and lost them, not caring one little bit that she was dusty and sticky from head to toe. Its another one of those times when I looked at her and suddenly had a flashback to my own childhood that nearly knocked me over.

Remembering the feeling of soft, hot dust on my toes, running around in the sun with an ice pop melting in my hands. Its so funny because it feels so close sometimes, like it was only yesterday that I was eight years old and piling in my mom's red station wagon for the ride to the baseball field to watch my dad play ball and hang out with my cousins in the weeds, chasing foul balls. squeezing a warm sticky quarter in my hand, trying to decide what treat I want to get from the concession stand. I don't know if its because we live so far away and I forgot so much stuff that when I am here, it hits me like a bulldozer. Memories from when I was little, things that haven't crossed my mind for years, just flood in. Maybe its because of Ella and seeing her is like falling into some weird wormhole to my past. What I like best is that the momories are not about something big that happened but more of an overwhelming feeling about what it was like to be a little kid playing, a really nice happy, carefree feeling that you honestly don't get to touch very often when you are an adult. There is always something lingering on the sidelines of your mind, some mental 'To do' list. Sunday was a good day.

So now I know that we are definitely in Wisconsin as we had our first Tornodo 'drill' last night and are off to our first baseball game of the summer. Last night, there was a major storm passing through the area and when we heard the sirens go off in town, we decided to finish off our television viewing in the basement rather than strain our ears listening for the sound of a freight train bearing down on the house before grabbing our candles and blankets. The scary thing is when the tornado comes at night and you can't see it- or worse, you're asleep. Its at moments like these that I am grateful for the Weather Channel and those doppler radar images where you can watch the red zone move over your house and off to the East so you know exactly when its alright to head off to bed. All in all, it was kind of a non-event. I suppose the scariest part was moving Ella and praying that she didn't wake up when I took her out of bed.

Today, I said that I would go to a baseball game with my Grandma but I've not lived around these parts for so long that my sense of geography is a bit off. I thought that I had agreed to a 45 minute car ride to see the game when in fact, I've just been told, its more like an hour and a half each way. Yikes. I really don't like baseball enough to justify that much time in the car but its too late to back out now. Anyways, there's a big family party to look forward to afterwards. My dad and his twin brother turned 60 this week so the two families will get together tonight with my Grandma for a big dinner cooked on the grill enjoyed outside in my aunt's beautiful garden. It should be fairly chaotic with the 9 adult children between them + spouses + 9 grandchildren. My mom asked my sister to pick up a bottle or two of wine to bring along, which makes me wonder if she is suffering from a head injury. Two bottles of wine will hardly get us through the first course. My sister and I were on the phone this morning and agreed that she should pick up two cases- just to be on the safe side. Bear in mind, there are going to be 9 children under the age of 10. This is clearly an occasion that calls for large amounts of alcohol.

But then thats what I love best about summer here.

What I like least:
Since I am solo parenting, I am forced to do the bedtime routine myself every night. That wouldn't be too bad, although its difficult at the end of a long day to find the energy to move serenely through the bedtime tantrums. What's really killing me is that Ella has developed an unnatural attachment to one story book, specifically 'Diego's Springtime Fiesta'. I have had to read that stupid book about 5 stupid baby bunnies that run away from their nest atleast once a day for the last week and a half. Its super long, as well. I know that it might be more annoying to read a rhyming baby book but this is already bad enough. I don't think I can handle doing this for another 5 weeks. But Ella is showing no signs of letting up on me, so I am going to need to dig deep into my reserves of parental patience. Seriously, B is going to owe me big time. He's off in Paris, swanning around the silent apartment like a happy batchelor while I tear my hair out from dawn til well after dusk chasing after a crazed three-year-old.

I think I will start researching spa retreats right now. That way, when Ella pulls out that damn book, I can just put my mouth on autopilot and go to my 'happy place'.

Update: I've been placed on Slip 'n Slide duty for the afternoon and therefore won't be trekking to the baseball game. The glee with which the other mothers jumped in the car makes me think that I made the wrong choice...

Summer in Wisconsin

I really thought I had posted a message since we arrived- I guess I dreamed it? Weird. In that message I said that we had a good flight and were given seats together as we checked in at the gate. The plane left an hour and half late but we were off the plane and out of customs a half hour before my ride arrived at the airport (but then, in my 17 years of flying home I've learned to appreciate the baggage claim coffee bar...) Jetlag was once again a non-issue for Ella, which i never stop being grateful for. While waiting at immigration, I saw a woman who reminded me how lucky I am to have Ella who is an excellent traveller and also, how wise I am to have mastered the basics of international travel. This poor woman had 2 kids, one of whom was in a full scale meltdown and rolling around on the floor, but she was blinded by dry contacts and buried under a mountain of carry-on luggage. Clearly, she was not savvy to the Number One Rule of Travel:

1. Never travel with more luggage than you can carry yourself.

And that means counting children when the case warrants. Seriously, who in their right mind would travel with 4 small open tote bags, ie luggage that is impossible to set down without spilling out all over the floor? Here is some unsollicited advice- if you are travelling with children, a backpack is your friend. With any luck, you have a device to strap your non-walking child to your front. Your gear is all on your back. Then you have two free hands and the ability to manage two large wheely bags (checked prior to departure to verify that all wheels are fully functional). Voila- disaster averted, even if you have a screaming child and no luggage carts. Or you are suddenly required during a transfer to check your luggage in a distant terminal accessible only by slow moving walkway (true story). Sure, you can tell yourself that surely some kindly stranger will come along to help but in my experience a nervous breakdown normally finds you first. I will repack my bags three, four times to get to a point where I have reduced my luggage to a manageable amount. If its one thing that parenthood has taught me, its survival techniques. Only the fast and the strong survive.

So, it seemed like as soon as we arrived we were thrown into the thick of things, with all the 4th of July festivities. We got to enjoy my absolute fav bit of Americana- the Winter, WI 4th of July parade. Its the high school marching band, in their ridiculously hot woolen uniforms playing 'Play that Funky Music White Boy'; its the Little League team showing off their league champions trophy; its the Festival Queen in a neon pink polyester dress sitting on a hay wagon doing that silly pageant wave, its little kids dashing into the street to pick up candy thrown from the fire truck and nearly dying of fright when the Chief turns on the horns. I love every bit of it. And, of course, its twice as nice to bump into people I know and didn't expect to see- because its a small town so of course you see a million people you know. I love that I sit down, expecting to eat my sauerkraut covered brat alone at a picnic table, and end up sharing a plate of cheese curds with three of my aunts (and some strange, quiet man that plunked himself down right in the middle of us and we all thought was related to someone else). I love that the band playing Oldies Rock music all afternoon is a bunch of middle-schoolers, one of whom is a Chinese girl who is definitely shorter than her bass guitar is long.

Sadly, after a dinner of taco salade for about three times as many people as there were chairs in the house (another thing that I get weirdly sentimental about), I only managed to stay awake for the little fireworks at the house. The whole extended family, loaded down with bug spray and wool blankets, piled into cars to go see the town fireworks and 'oooh' and 'ahhh' while laying on the baseball field. I volunteered to stay home with the babies who were already asleep. When our neighbors decided to start setting off some major fireworks at 10:30, I jumped out of bed to close the window but, in my haste, failed to notice that there was a painting balanced on the top of the window, holding down a blanket to make it extra dark in the room. The picture came silently shooting down the blanket ramp while I tried to jiggle the window closed, hitting me smack on the bridge of my nose. So there I am in the dark, stiffling my screams so as to not wake the two sleeping children in the room, trying to get myself out from under the blanket while keeping the blood gushing out of my nose from getting all over everything- a bit of trick in the pitch black in a room set up like a obstacle course. I don't think I have ever had a bloody nose so this was quite an introduction. The blood stopped quickly enough but I swear I think that I really broke something. Its a week later and when I wash my face, I get a weird pressure down near my lip and my nose is super cracky if I wiggle the end. Thats not good, right?

So anyways, we have had beautiful gorgeous summer weather every single day. I am even counting the rainy weather because when it did finally rain, it was the most spectacular high-wind lightening storm that woke me in the middle of the night with the all the howling through the trees that was going on. We get woken up every morning by the flocks of birds peep-peep-peeping outside our windows (which is a nice change from being awoken in Paris by the garbage truck, but seriously, birds, can we take it down a notch or two?) When we drove into the driveway to our country house last week, I think Ella thought she had stumbled into a scene from a Disney film. First we had to stop so that a momma deer and her twin spotted bambis could get across the road. Then as we stepped out of the car, two squirrels jumped out of a tree and had some chattery little argument over a pine cone. And as we walked up to the door, a robin sitting on a post, sang us a little song before lazily flying away. Seriously, if a couple of dwarfs came whistling around the corner, I wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

All in all, I am so happy that we bailed out of Paris when we did. This is what summer holidays are supposed to be like. Ella has completely adapted to all the freedom she has to run around, in and out of the house with minimal supervision. I have seen my stress-level drop due the fact that I feel like a have a bit of space to breathe. It feels so nice to be out of that little rabbit cage we call an apartment! I'm already wondering how B is going to manage to drag us onto the airplane in the fall...

In-laws

I should be busily getting my bags packed for our weekend at B's parents place in the country but I am dragging my feet. When he first mentioned it, I thought he just wanted to go and see his dad but now it turns out that his stepmother has invited the entire family so what I imagined to be a fairly relaxing day or two around the pool is going to be like a Death March with appertifs. Ugh.

For nearly 10 years, I've been spoiled and his family has had the absolute bare minimum of family occasions. Suddenly, his stepmom has decided that she LOVES to have all their children and grandchildren and daughters-in-law together and its a constant stream of invites for dinners and weekends (ok, I shouldn't exaggerate. Its probably only been like 3 times in 6 months but that is far more than the previous average of once a year). Its not that I dislike any of his family, but its such an effort. They argue a lot, or more precisely, they continually contradict each other rather than just have a normal conversation, something which I find completely exhausting to listen to. The house is dark and cold and I don't think that there are more than 2 comfortable places to sit in the whole house. How can you have a 400m² house and only two comfortable chairs? It seems not even statistically possible, but there you have it. I have dreams about re-furnishing the house so that it is finally cozy and comfortable. Actually, now that I think about it, its probably the thing that I most dread about going there. And the towels are small and scratchy. And we have to share a bathroom with so many people. And there is never any orange juice for breakfast but if I bring any food with me, my MIL is horribly horribly insulted. And there are tile floors everywhere but I'm not allowed to wear shoes in the house, so I end up with horribly sore legs as well as filthy socks, since I forget my slippers every single time we go. And without fail, B disappears off on some errand for his father and I am left sitting there like an idiot wondering what I am supposed to be doing. Should I be helping in the kitchen? Keeping Ella out of everyone's way? Keeping myself out of everyone's way but leaving Ella to be fussed over? Admiring the garden? Suggesting outings? One decade into this thing, and I am still at a complete loss.

But by far my biggest complaint is the 'schedule' that we have to follow when we are there. They have these endless late lunches which I hate because it screws up the entire day. If you enjoy a bit of a lie in, then you have barely finished getting yourself caffeinated and washed and dressed and its time to start helping setting the table for lunch. Then its time for an apperitif. Then the meal starts and maybe two hours later, coffee is being offered, but now it is probably 2 or 3 in the afternoon and you still haven't actually done anything- not even jumped in the pool. The afternoon is ticking away and the clouds have probably moved in, but now its time to clean up from this massive meal, which obviously takes ages since you are constantly having to stop and ask for instructions from your rather persnickety MIL. If you are smart, and didn't eat much, you might be able to manage an hour or two of swimming. If you were silly and actually took a bit of everything offered, you will spend the rest of the afternoon lying in the shade and digesting. And just about when you are feeling up to moving around, its dinner time, and it starts all over again.

Honestly, I am much happier to go and visit in the winter when eating and digesting are my activities of choice but in summer it drives me crazy. We finally get out of the city and have a heated pool in the backyard, an entire forest to play in with bikes and 4-wheelers, animals to feed, a pond to fish in, lots of nice shady corners for reading. But all we do is prepare the meals, eat the meals, and clean-up the meals. Slightly monotonous, if you ask me.

I just never feel like I've spent a very relaxing weekend, especially if there are other people visiting as well. I guess 'relaxing' wouldn't be the first word I would use to describe the big family functions on my side, but atleast I'm having fun. I feel like such an old grouch complaining about it because it doesn't seem very nice. But its such an obligation to go and B will never ever in a million years consider going to visit his father on his own without me. He always asks me in a shocked voice 'But what would they think?!' Oh please. His family is his job to deal with. I don't know why he has it in his head that I should be dying to go and spend time with people that I would never give a toss about if they weren't his family. Its hard enough sometimes convincing yourself that you want to spend time with your own blood relatives, so how presumptuous is it to assume that your spouse will be 100% enthusiastic about spending their freetime listening to the enieme debate about what year Uncle Jacques installed the new pool cover.

I would adore it if B took Ella for the weekend to go to the country and left me here to potter around. Surely, he owes me a free weekend or two. Of course he misses us when we go back to the States, but at the same time, he is free to live like a batchelor for a few weeks, to take over the house and indulge his every whim while I am solo-parenting and fighting with my sisters over who finished off the toothpaste. Doesn't seem fair.

christmas holidays

So, 20 hours after having stepped off my flight from Brazil, I was back at the airport, with a different set of luggage and a child, waving good-bye to B. I was so exhausted that I hadn't had the energy to even glance inside our bags and hadn't the slightest idea what I had brought along with me. Luckily, I had had the foresight to do all my packing before flying off to Brazil. The only thing that I hadn't managed to pack was fois gras, thinking that I could surely buy it in Duty Free before getting on the airplane. Bad luck, they've decided that fois gras is too dangerous to carry-on the plane and so has been outlawed by security. High time, I say. Who knows how many innocent people have been killed while caught in the shrapnel of an exploding passenger unable to contain one more mouthful of pure unadulterated transfat.

Amazingly, Ella and I arrived in the States without having any major blow-outs, emotional or diaper-related. She napped nicely and I got to stretch out and watch the inflight movie, since both our planes were only half full. Little did I know that we were squandering a mountain of good luck and that we would pay for it on our return flight...

For the first time in I can't remember how many years, we arrived to snow; a nice thick, white blanket of snow all over everything. Global warning? Bah humbug! Not in Wisconsin. Its so pretty when it is white and snowy everywhere, the best thing is that it feels like Christmas right away. I went up to spend a few days at my Grandpa's house- which is even deeper in the NorthWoods than my parents house- and I think it was easily ten times more beautiful than the most beautiful beaches we had seen in Brazil. Granted, I am horribly biased, but Hollywood would have had a hard time topping this scene. The pine trees had snow piled thick on the branches; the sky was clear and blue and the sun was so bright on the snow on the ground that it hurt your eyes; the wind picked up just enough to blow a light dusting of snow off the roof and the air sparkled as if someone had emptied a container of silver glitter. And then, just as we all stood at the window marvelling at how pretty it was, a family of deer wandered out of the woods and into the yard. Honestly, Walt Disney couldn't have designed a better picture postcard. I tried taking a photo or two but I erased them because they looked completely blah after having seen how perfect it was in reality.

Everything was just perfect for Christmas this year. As usual, when we're in the thick of things, it seems horrible and stressful and disorganized, and but it all works out in the end and we have a fantastic time. This year we had a major crisis when we couldn't find the recipe for white fruit cake- toasted white fruit cake for breakfast is a Christmas tradition in our house so there were telephone calls flying about for two days while we scoured old cookbooks, the bottom of cupboards, and finally- in desperation- resorted to Google. Crisis averted. Let's see, what else? Oh, of course there was the missing fois gras. Luckily my brother was sent to Amsterdam for a few weeks for work. I called B and was arranging for an emergency shipment of fois gras to be delivered to the hotel, in order to save our Christmas Eve menu, when my brother decided to make a quick detour to Paris before flying home. Poor B was getting a bit lonely at home in Paris, overseeing the kitchen renovation, so I think he appreciated the company. Besides, the heat had been turned off while the builders were in and our apartment was freezing cold. B and the brother spent a few nights cuddled up in our bed- since every other room in the flat was stacked to the ceiling with kitchen cupboards and appliances and boxes- and there wasn't even a large enough square of free floor space for a boy to stretch out. Luckily, my brother had more reasons than just the fois gras for going to Paris because his bags were lost on his flight home and we had to do without, boo-hoo.

I tried very hard to minimize my stress by doing nearly all my 'Santa' shopping for ella over the internet. As soon as I arrived home, I scoured all the catalogs that my mother had collected for me, I weighed the pros and cons of all the different things (which generally boiled down to whether or not I would be able to get it home in my suitcase and find a place for in her already overflowing toybox) and placed my orders well within the deadlines for delivery. Well, naturally it is never that easy. I very nearly had a nervous breakdown waiting for her things to arrive. Finally, FINALLY, on Christmas Eve morning (slipping in just under the bell) I got the box I had been waiting for. I bought Ella a dollhouse, all the furniture and the little doll family to live there. Of course, I had to go a little bit overboard (it would be totally out of character for me to be reasonable), and I ordered the Christmas decorating set, complete with miniature candy canes, tiny wrapped presents, and a battery-operated lighted Christmas tree. Its entirely possible that I loved it far more than Ella did (or maybe, ever will) but it was definitely worth staying up late, after Ella was in bed, putting it all together. I think this is my first real Christmas as a mommy. We had one last little crisis, when I realized that I couldn't actually put the house together with screws because they were locking screws and I risked not being able to get it apart to fit in my luggage so I made an executive decision to put the house together with clear packing tape. Ok, it wasn't the ideal solution or very pretty, but at 11:30 on Christmas Eve night, I didn't really have the time to think up a better solution.

I got stacks of lovely things under the Christmas tree, obviously I was a very good girl this year. I don't know if I mentioned that B bought me a travel wallet at the Mulberry party that was the most perfect gift, and already is very well broken in. The best surprise gift was a camera tripod that has flexible legs that can be manipulated to make the camera stand (or hang from) any surface. I love it! I had seen it in a magazine weeks ago and the article said that it was only available in Japan so I hadn't even mentioned it to anyone. Ella decorated a picture frame for me, which I adore. She was so proud and excited to give it me, there is no way that I could not love it more than all my other presents put together.

Christmas day a big snow storm moved over, leaving a fresh blanket of fluffy snow over enerything and the next day (or was it the day after? There is an eggnog fog hanging over the post-Christmas days that makes it difficult for me to remember precisely...) I took Ella sledding for the first time. It was so much fun! We found a short little hill just near my mom's house and grabbed my nephew and my sisters and spent about an hour dragging her up and down, while she giggled her head off. Even better, when we went back to the house, my mom had homemade hot chocolate for us and we threw in a few of my homemade peppermint marshmallows. In a fit of Christmas spirit, I had spent an afternoon making these marshmallows about two weeks before and hadn't even tried them yet. How much better could a vacation get? If only we had flown home immediately...

The next day, the plague descended on the house and there was hardly a person left standing. Stomach flu. I'll just leave it there.

So, after recovering enough to pack my bags, I quickly decided that I would simply pay the extra baggage charge rather than repack and repack to squeeze everything into 4 suitcases, and we headed to the airport. It was an ill-fated trip from the get-go. First off, there were no 4-wheel drive vehicles available. My parents driveway could easily be confused with a used car lot and there is a constantly rotating choice of vehicles. My mother was just about hysterical over the idea that we would be forced to drive her precious Mercedes on actual roads, very possibly getting actual mud, which comes from dirt, on her car which may or may not be made of sugar. Personally, I didn't find it such a complete tragedy... Although, I did feel a bit badly when Ella vomitted in the car on the way to the airport. The plane was completely full and I had to put Ella to sleep on the floor. There was a horrific storm over Iceland and after barely making it to the ground, they informed us that we were stuck there until the eye (!) of the storm passed, when they would try to get us all out. 10 hours later, after the passengers of the Paris flight got so irate that they were required to call in the police to calm us down, they managed to find a crew for our plane and we were on our way once again. For the entire 10 hours in the airport, Ella only laid down for 45 minutes, amazingly. She is the best traveller and hardly fussed about anything, preferring instead to run up and down the hallways with the other 50 toddlers also trapped in the airport. I had barely slept on the first flight but apparently 3 hours of sleep was enough to wind her up like a Duracell bunny. By the time we did get back in the air, though, Ella was hysterical with sleep deprivation and hadn't eaten anything in about 50 hours (if you don't count half a box of smarties, which frankly, I don't), was so filthy that I would have been horrified under normal circumstance but I was so tired I was just happy to still be able to walk.

It's no wonder then that I am still totally exhausted. B has started making noises about how a week is surely enough to recover from the jetlag, but honestly, I don't know. The day after we arrived, I had to stay up all day playing with ella. Then that night we had NYE plans so we were out til 3 am. I felt like a bit of a spoilsport not going on to a club after we left our friends, especially since we were paying a fortune for a babysitter, but I was trying to be sage. Sweet Ella let us sleep until 1 pm the next day. Then I got a horrible cold- surprise surprise- so I am slowly snuffling my way back to normal. I've given myself Monday as a deadline. Ella is back to daycare, all her classes start, and it will be time for me to start sorting myself out for 2008. I have big big plans and I can't wait to dig in and get it at it. Only about 6 more New Years cards to get in the mail, and so i think that we can label Holiday Extravaganza 2007 a smashing success.