Georgia's Polka dot Party

It was a great party and I had so much fun doing all the projects and decorating. We chose a polka-dot theme mainly because Georgia does not have a passion for much of anything and this seemed like an easy thing to do to give Ella lots of little projects that she could help me with- specifically the polka-dot garland. She helped me punch out all the circles and then glue them to the string. It looked really pretty. We also had lots of fun doing the polka-dot cookies. The cake turned out better than expected- I used the extra royal icing from the cookies to pipe dots on to tin-foil the day before the party. Because the cake was for the babies, I didn't want to use too much sugar and chose a mascarpone/whip cream frosting with fresh vanilla bean for flavor. Just before bringing it out, we took the dried dots and stuck them on the frosting. So pretty! And with my new printer, I was able to print off stickers with Georgia's photo for the hats and party favor bubbles. Georgia was in a rotten mood for most of the afternoon (not surprising since she had woken up at 5 am that morning but wouldn't lay down for a nap with so many people in the house.) so I wasn't able to really take many photos. Half the reason I went to such an effort for the party was so that I would have a few nice shots for Georgia's photo album which is a bit sparse compared to Ella's. So much for that plan...
I had also planned on getting a bunch of helium balloons that morning before the kids showed up. I remember that at Ella's first birthday, the kids LOVED the ballons. However, I got up that morning to hear the wind howling down the street and ominously grey clouds covered teh sky. I decided that it would be next to impossible to walk home from the shop with a bunch of balloons tied to the stroller so I had to abandon that plan, which was a big disappointment. I just feel like helium balloons make it such a party. I should have just coughed up the 50 euro for the mini helium tank that you take home to blow up balloons. Next time, I'll know not to take the risk on February weather!
But I did have one happy surprise at the party. I had chilled a bottle of nice champagne, after one of the mom's RSVP-ed by mentioning that she felt that the first birthday celebration was really for the mother- which I heartily agree with. I do feel like I need to celebrate my 'survival' of the first year of Georgia. After I served the cake, I opened the champagne and asked if anyone would like a glass. Every single mom took some! Yeah, drinking in the afternoon! These are my people :-) Now, I loved Ella's playgroup. I am still friends with most of the moms and we go out together and exchange houses for vacations. I like them. BUT they were not up for Cocktail Playgroups.

Happily waving February good-bye

I don't think that I am the only person to be saying 'good riddance' to the month of February. It was rough, and I even managed to squeeze in a vacation. Well, two, if you count flying to the States for a funeral (although I think we can all agree that it doesn't really count, even if I did get to eat pizza from Drag's.) The weather was tough. I had to frantically dash from one major project to another. I gave myself whiplash (I don't think that I mentioned this. I fell down badly on the last day of skiing and the next day? I had to actually use my hands to turn my head from side to side. A week later and I am mostly better although I still creak when I get out of bed in the morning. Way to celebrate another birthday is coming up, body!) We were all sick- and some of us, more than once. Its Lent and I gave up alcohol so I couldn't even reward myself at the end of a hard day of cupcake baking and baby wrangling with a nice glass of wine. Oh, and my appointment to my lovely new hair salon was marred by the MOST EXPENSIVE BLOWOUT and/or MANICURE ever. When I told B how much it had cost, he was actually going to call them up and yell at them because he thought that they had taken advantage of me or cheated me or something. I had to admit that it was just a ridiculously expensive salon and now he may explode when I mention that I still need to go back this week to get my hair cut. Life was hard in February.

Forgive me for taking off an entire week from blogging but I am EXHAUSTED. The minute that we got back from vacation, I was ready to start burning through my prep list for the big birthday party for Georgia, but Monday morning I got a text from the sitter/cleaner to tell me that she was ill and she didn't know if she would make it to work all week. I couldn't have gotten any worse news. First of all, since we had all had The Gastro that Never Ended, I suspected that she wouldn't be back to work any time soon. And Secondly, Ella was on school holidays and was quite frankly, being a PITA. After spending a week alone with B and I, it seemed like she was determined to make it her full time job to have my full attention at all times. OMG, the endless questions! The constant harrassment to play games. The insistence that she was incapable of doing the smallest task without constant supervision. Plus the fact that I also had to entertain Georgia- who was being extra clingy due to our little vacation. I was at my wits end. By noon on Monday.

Luckily, Ella's school has a great centre de loisirs during the holidays and it turned out that there were a few kids from her class who would be there. She didn't want to go, we literally dragged her out of the house on Tuesday morning. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, I came to pick her up and she sent me home! She wanted to keep playing so I made dinner and then went to fetch her at 6 pm. Its funny but I would swear that the people who organise this put in more time and effort than her regular teacher. The schedule for the week is just a list of amazingly fun stuff for kids. Granted, there are only 30 kids and something like 6 animateurs/-trices, but still. I am more and more happy with my decision to pull Ella out of this school and send her to a private school next year. Not only does her teacher this year seem to have been slacking off in the extreme but she only worked about 9 days since January. She'll work a day or two and then be on sick leave for two weeks. And this is despite the fact that she only works part-time the way it is. Since I go to school to do the english class with teh kids, I am always shocked to hear that she has been put on arret maladie, when the day before, when I was in class, she was perfectly well and chatting to me about her plans for the evening. Hmm, a cynical person might think that she was abusing the system. Of course, she might very well be dying of cancer, but I highly doubt it.

So Ella was happy to dance out the door every day at 8:30 but that still left me with the Littlest Dictator. Good lord, this kid is a handful. She started walking really well while staying with her grandparents so she's become quiet brave, only the smallest things can send her crashing to the floor. Things like the edge of a rug. A piece of paper on the floor. A bit of light flashing in her eye. Its getting to where she is so covered in bruises that I am horrified to send her to daycare. They must think that I am either the most incompetent parent alive or that I am using her in cage fighting. I honestly don't remember Ella being such a klutz. I also don't remember Ella being so difficult and disagreeable. Ella used to be happy to sit by herself and play. Georgia is almost never happy to sit and play by herself and even when you play with her, she'll suddenly get a bug up her ass about something and starting crying and throwing things. I really really hope that its all due to her teeth but I'm beginning to fear that she is just a Difficult Child.

Georgia has started sleeping well, some nights, but then like last night, will give a good yell every 10 minutes for 2 hours. She isn't entirely awake but she isn't entirely asleep either. That means that you have to listen closely for the tipping point from Sleeptalking to Hysterics. Especially since she learned to scream. Oh that adds a whole new level of fun to the 4 am sleep-training that we are trying to do. And since she learned to shake her head 'no', she won't eat anything either. The first three bites go down just fine. Then its a big, full-body waggle indicating 'No!' So I try to alternate with bites of a dessert compote. That will work for a few bites. Then, another big 'no'. Generally at this point, she starts pointing at stuff around the room that she wants to eat instead. My tea. Ella's sandwich. A candle. Mainly stuff that she can't eat, but try to convince her of this. Meals have gone from being the easiest part of the day to a slow torturous death slog.

Oh, I know, I know. She's just a baby and she is just doing what babies do. But, gosh, sometimes parenting is a thankless job. I think that part of it is that I am sort of ready to move on to the next thing. When B came home from work the night before Georgia's birthday party, I asked him what he though of all the decorating and baking and projects I had done with Ella. He answered, 'i think you need a job'. Yeah, maybe I do.

Last day

Last day skiing and the snow is falling down hard. When B and I went up to the peak this morning, visability was probably about 5 meters! It was fun skiing in the fresh snow but because the temperature wasn't too cold, it was still pretty pack-y and so the skiing was tricky. You couldn't see anything hardly and even when you could make out the terrain, it was hard to tell if you were heading towards a bosse or a pile of fluffy snowy. I was doing pretty good and we were going down a beautiful run, lined with pines, when I tried to turned and my ski got 'caught' under a pile of snow. I twisted my knee, slammed my head into the ground, and just to really rub in the humiliation, went sliding upside down for about 10 meters, packing snow into all the cracks. I shook it off and made it down the hill, but I'm feeling it now...
In any case, we had lots of other things to do this afternoon, taking the time to enjoy all the fun that La Clusaz has to offer. We took a ride around the village in a horse-drawn caleche. It was so pretty, going through the hills of the upper village, with great big fat snowflakes falling from the sky. I went and had a hot rock massage this afternoon (well-timed, considering my big tumble). We still have to do some shopping to get a nice present for little Georgie-boo for her birthday tomorrow. And we are all trying to make room for one last fondue before we head out tomorrow.

Carnevale

Watching the mardi gras fireworks from the terrasse of the hotel on Tuesday night.

Skiing La Clusaz

Friday night we made it out of the house at a fairly reasonable hour - 7:30- and spent the night at B's parents' house in the country so that we could drop off Georgia. First thing in the a.m. we jumped in the car and were off for the mountains. It was going so well for the first 5 hours but then it was the typical traffic jam once we got near Geneva and finally after 8 hours in the care (3 more than we had planned) we arrived at our hotel. What a relief to find that it is just gorgeous- a regular Alpine chalet with a really nice restaurant and a great pool/sauna/hottub area. There is even a spa and you can bet that I will try out a good number of their treatments, especially the massages.

I really wasn't sure that I was going to ski this week. I hadn't been skiing in 3 years and I was sort of nervous since I haven't been very sporty lately. And I worry about being cold since I am a walking icecube. But then we got up today and there was the most gorgeous blue sky. You couldn't not want to ski. SO I caved and bought a week long ski pass and after dropping Ella at ski school, B and I jumped on the lift. It is amazing how good it felt to back on skis. We both had a good first run and rushed to get up the hill a few more times before having to pick up Ella at ski school.

Luckily, ski school went well and with the smallish bribe of a pair of waterwings for the pool, Ella has agreed to return tomorrow. It was awful dropping her off because she kept slipping in her skis and there was a little kid next to her screaming bloody murder (to which the monitor replied, 'just let him scream and he will eventually wear himself out. Then he'll participate. ' OMG, I am so glad that I never got sent to ski school as a 3 year old.)

It has ended up being slightly more expensive than we expected as I forgot my ski pants and glasses for Ella and underwear (and of course there are no cheap underwear in the entire village so I ended up spending an absolute fortune on a weeks worth of Simone Perele. Not very sporty but maybe rather appropriate since it is valentines day.)

We had a nice swim when we got back to the hotel and are off for a gourmet dinner. I think after a week of this, I will be more than ready to deal with Georgia again. Must say that the last night before we left, I wondered if I was going to make it through to morning.

Guess who got their first tooth?

I was saying to one of the other mom's at the party yesterday that Georgia was acting like a real jerk the last few days (and nights). She laughed and asked if the baby had been acting a bit cranky. I told her 'No. She's being a real jerk.' Opened mouthed stares from everyone. Apparently you shouldn't call your baby a jerk?

It continued this morning. Yelling from 4 til 5. Refusing her bottle. Then yelling for her bottle. Pointing to her pacifier. Then throwing the pacifier to the deepest darkest corner of the toybox. Then crying to have it back. Then chucking it in the trashcan. You get the picture. After pissing and moaning all through her lunch, the light bulb finally went off, and I rubbed my finger over her gums. FINALLY it seems like her first two teeth are poking through.

Kind of a bummer though because I was starting to think it would be really funny if she was still toothless on her first birthday. We would talk about it for years. I was going to start calling her My Little Gummy Bear. Oh well.

5 years old

Yesterday was the big day- Ella turned 5 and we had a Super Party, Super Hero Style to celebrate.

I got off the plane on Monday afternoon and went straight to work. After a super hero cape delivery fraught with complications and triumphs over daunting obstacles*, the party had big things to live up to, so I couldn't half-ass it. In the end, it worked out well that Georgia had a bit of a crisis (to put it mildly) on Monday night between 1 am and 3 am because this corresponded exactly with my jetlag. I got up and made a very thorough To Do list . I even organized the party games so that Tuesday, I was able to power through and get everything done just the way I had hoped. The room looked gorgeous with all the bunting that I had sewed up. There was even mini-bunting around the cake stand, too cute! The photo backdrop was fun and I have loads of great photos of the kids. The project (making 'zigzaguilleurs/ray guns) ended up being a hit, even though I had to practically force the kids to sit down at the table. I did forget to set up the kids music playlist on my ipod, which was a bit of a pain and more tragically, I forgot to chill a bottle of champagne so it was evian and orange juice for the mommies, boo-hoo! Seriously, though, I could have used a drink at about 4 pm... I was completely burned out at the end of the day, but nothing that a few pink cupcakes couldn't cure.

If only I had some time to lay around and bask in the glow of a job well done. No chance. I have to organize the house today for our visitors next week, which means hauling BOXES of shit down to our cave. Honestly, I am embarrassed to see how thoroughly disorganized the house is. B is going into hysterics over it all, which is not helping things. Atleast I have 80% of our ski things organized so that I don't have to worry about packing. B also decided, since we are taking the car to the ski station, that it would be better if we were to leave Friday night rather than Saturday morning, which knocks about 5 hours off my already tight schedule. Maybe if I put on one of the superhero capes, it'll give me the super powers I need to get everything done?

Okay, I can tell that I'm starting to procrastinate here at the computer.


*After 4 emails to confirm that the package of capes that I had ordered for the party would arrive at my mom's house before I had to leave for the airport, I was furious to find out that nothing had been delivered on Friday while I was at the funeral. I waited to see if anything came in the Saturday morning post and then I sent an extremely angry email to the company. A few hours later, I noticed that they had responded. They assured me that the package had been sent, but as no one was home to sign for the package, it was taken back to the post office! Sure enough- the postman had left a note in the post box but no one had checked the mail. I grabbed the notice and ran to the post office in town, even though it was 4 in the afternoon- hours after closing- because my aunt (a former postal worker) told me that there still might be someone there who would be nice and help me. There was. I banged on the back door, poured out my sad story, and the guy found the package and gave it to me!! The capes were great and well worth all the trouble. AND they fit in my suitcase :-), a minor miracle in and of itself. Although it makes me sound like a complete dope, as I drove back to the house with the package on the seat next to me, I had tears in my eyes thinking how incredibly nice it was of that man to help me even though he really didn't have to make the effort. And also thinking, in contrast, how a French postal would likely respond to the same request by calling the cops and having me hauled off.

Back home

Its been a really good visit. My bag is already packed and sitting next to the door, but I have a few minutes so I
was going through the photos that my brother had taken this weekend and I found these. I wasn't with him, but he drove through the little town where we grew up and took some photos of our old house. Its so tiny that I can't imagine how my parents managed to fit 5 children in that place- no wonder we were always being forced outside for playtime. I can just see my window on the basement level, its a bit hidden behind the trees (that have been planted since we left). At night, laying in bed, I could hear the white noise of the traffic speeding by on the interstate that passed by our town, on the other side of the golf course. Thats probably the reason why I've always slept so well in cheap motels when we stop while on vacation. That high humming whiz of 18-wheelers flying down the road reminds me of childhood.

He also took a photo of my best friend's house, located just around the block, where I spent a good 25% of my days. My best friend moved away when I was 12 and through the wonder of Facebook, I now am able to see her boys growing up. Her son is only 4 months younger than Ella- the same age difference as me and Amy. Its sad to think that if it wasn't for the terrible habit of modern life to scatter people to the four corners of the globe, our kids might be growing up just around the block from each other and playing spies, while climbing through the bushes.

Ross also took a shot of the little Catholic school where we all went for elementary school. When I first started, there were 4 nuns living in the apartment at the end of the building- Sisters Ruth (who scared the living daylights out of me when I tried to give her one of my birthday treats when I turned 6. In all fairness, all she did was ask me how old I was, but it was in front of an entire class of GREAT BIG ENORMOUS 6TH GRADERS!!!) , Methodius (the nice one who made bookmarks from old christmas cards and ran the library), Cornelius (who taught penmenship like an old marine drill sargent , which is the reason why I was able to work as a professional calligrapher for a few years in college) , and Rita (the pretty young one, although I suspect
even she was in her forties, so you can guess how ancient the other 3 were...) I loved that school. There were teeny tiny little classes of about 6 kids and they were all from farm families of about 14, so poor as can be. We didn't have much in the way of material but I can't imagine getting better teaching. We had to go to church nearly every day, which means that ever since then, I've felt fine about skipping Sunday Mass, figuring I banked up enough to last me til retirement. The highlight of the year was when each class got to do cake and cookie sales. Of course, to offset the fact that we would be spending the afternoon gorging on sweets, Eileen the cook, would force us to eat split pea soup for lunch. Her homemade bread and applesauce did nothing to help it go down. And I almost forgot- the 5th and 6th graders took turners cleaning the kitchen after lunch. In the spring when it was nice out, this was sheer torture. But in the winter, when the teachers would push us all outside in the freezing cold just so that they could have 10 minutes of quiet, it was actually a treat. We would sometimes sneak an extra cookie or box of chocolate milk (although god help you if Father Fliss caught you at it) and drag it out as long as possible to avoid having to take recess. Of course, now a days, they would never be allowed to let children near one of those giant dishwashing machines. It was great fun though. Opening up the door and having a big cloud of steam rush up in your face. Standing on the stool and using the giant sprayer to hose off the trays before racking them up. Standing at the counter to collect trays and letting your buddies get away with stuffing their lunch in their empty milk cartons.

The last photo he took was of main street. Its so sad to see it now, with every single building shuttered except for the bar and the post office. When I was little, Ray's 5 and Dime was still open and it was heaven on earth. A real old-fashioned shop, with a soda counter and glass jars of hard candy, big wooden bins full of little plastic toys. Comic books. A little white-haired lady behind the counter, who would ring up your purchases on a old cash register that had the numbers flip up and would ding, when she pulled down the big handle. I loved that place. There was a cinema, where I went with Amy O to see my first movie, Annie. I cried so hard that my mom had to take me out to the lobby so that I could pull myself together. And of course, Jackie's, on the corner where I bought my first underage beer. Ahh, memories.

Quick trip

I am typing this from Wisconsin as I had a sudden change of plans this week- my grandfather, who has been very sick with Parkinson's for a very long time, died on Saturday night. I knew that he wouldn't be alive when we came back to visit for the summer so over our Christmas holidays, I made a special effort to take the girls to see him one morning and sing carols. I took lots of nice pictures of us all together and, I think in a sign that he also knew that it was the last time we would see each other, he seemed to be in great shape. He had gotten to a point where he seemed fairly unresponsive to his visitors, although this may just have been a result of the disease and mentally he was fine- its hard to tell. We didn't exactly chat but he was smiling and hugged the kids. I guess we all said our good-byes, which I am happy about.

For that reason, it wasn't so important to me to be here for the funeral. I said it a million times when he was getting sick, I thought that all his children and grandchildren should visit while he could enjoy their company rather than save up their vacation time to come for the funeral. It didn't work out that way and when they heard he was dead, everyone booked their tickets to come and pay their last respects. I knew that my mom had taken it all very hard, despite the fact that he had gone into hospice care in mid-December and the end was quiet and gentle, really the best any of us could have hoped for him. So I decided that I would try to see if I could figure out a way to fly back.

First thing was the airline ticket. I complain and complain about all the things that AirFrance does to irritate me but I will say it here for all the world to read, their airmiles program is fantastic. I managed to book a flight at the last minute for only 240 euros, the cost of the airport taxes. This is the second time airmiles saved my ass (the first time was when I was in NYC with a girlfriend having a wild weekend of girly fun and missed my flight home. Ooops.). Then B's parents stepped in and came and picked up the girls on Tuesday afternoon to spend the time in the country with them so I didn't have to worry about lining up sitters for the week. Plus, it gave us a night to recover from our sleep deficit. We have had yet a second round of the gastro go through our house and morale was low...

So the trip went well and I made it back to my parent's house two hours earlier than expected which was an added treat. It is really lovely to see all my cousins who live in Vegas who I never see- which is weird because I'm a girl who loves sequins and liquor and loud cheesy music so you would think that I would be out in Vegas all the time. To be honest, last night we had a great time sitting around the kitchen table, drinking wine, laughing, looking at photos, catching up on everyone's news. I'm not sad at all and I'm having a great time, which is a bit awkward because I'm here for a funeral, right?

My mom had asked me if I wanted to do the eulogy and while I said no, I have been spending all my time since then sort of wondering what I would have said in a eulogy. Its such a hard thing, trying to figure out what to say that would sum up someone's life. Or even if it doesn't sum up his life, atleast makes an attempt at some sort of insight into who he was and what it meant to know him. I realized that my grandfather was a bit of a mystery. He was understated to a fault. Very quiet and rarely asking for anything. Its hard to know why he did what he did and neatly explain his life. He had some very big setbacks in his life and I specifically don't want to call them tragedies because I don't think that is a word he would want to be associated with but, time and time again, he would pick himself up, dust himself off, start all over, and just carry on. No shaking his fist at the sky and asking, 'Why, God?' No crumbling into a heap and crying about the unfairness of it all. Just determination to get on with it and I suppose the faith that it would all make sense in the end. So I try not to feel guilty about not crying because I think if there were two things he would approve of it would be taking advantage of this time to just enjoy family, which was important to him, and just quietly carrying on.

I'll be back in Paris on Monday afternoon and then there will be no question of not just carrying on because life just keeps on barreling forward and I'll have to run to keep. Its nice to have a few days here, with my jetlag waking me up hours before everyone else, so that I can sit and look out at the endless drifts of white snow and the empty tree branches scraping against the pale gray sky. There is something like a zen garden about this kind of scenery. It lets your mind wander places and remember things. It feels good.

Recipe: Veloute de panais, croutons, et lardons

On Saturday, B and I were staying in so I wanted to make us a nice dinner to eat after the kids were in bed but it needed to be something easy as I was EXHAUSTED after entertaining the two cranky/sick monkeys all day long. I decided to try out this recipe that I had spotted in Elle magazine. It was amazingly good. So good, that I am posting here, both to generously share it with all of you but more importantly, to have it noted down in several places so that I never lose the recipe. Of course, it is so easy that I probably could just memorize it, but it is so ridiculously rich that I don't think it would be wise to have it too often. Save it for a special treat- and who thought that could ever be said about parsnip soup?

The link above is to the recipe on the Elle magazine site and is in French so I will do a quick translation below. Enjoy!


Parsnoip Veloute with croutons and bacon

Prep: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 30 minutes
For 4 people

6 parsnips
70 cl creme liquide
50 cl de lait
20 g salted butter

Garnishes:
50 g petits lardons/bacon
100 g croutons
50 g fois gras mi-cuit


1. Peel the parsnips, rince them and cut them in big chunks

2. Pour 1 liter of water in a pot with the cream and milk.* Salt lightly and bring to a boil. Add the parsnips and let cook for approximately 30 minutes, or until very tender.

3. Brown the lardons in a dry non-stick pan. Put aside and brown the croutons in the fat left in the pan. Put aside.

4. Cut the fois gras in small cubes

5. Using a hand-mixer, puree the parsnips, adding the butter and seasoning, as needed

6. Divide the garnishes among 4 bowls. Pour the puree over the top, pepper, and serve immediately.

* I mis-read the recipe as ml instead of cl and so after I pureed the mix, I found it too thick. To correct this, I just added water til I liked the consistency. I think that it still tasted fab and was less rich than the original recipe so I think you could probably even eliminate more cream without it affecting the final product.

recipe from Andree Rosier, Meilleur Ouvrier de France 2007 and head chef at Les Rosiers, Biaritz

Bread making, Take 1

When Ella was home sick last week, she was begging for something fun to do(again...), and after a full day of this, I had run through my usual bag of tricks already. In a moment of weakness I proposed that we make bread. Now, I don't know why I thought that it would be such a great idea. Maybe it was the fact that I've been reading the biography of Julia Child, My Life in France, and I was subconsciously influenced by her feats of daring in the kitchen? Well, something made me ignore the voice of reason telling me to just put in another Disney movie and bread-making it was. I don't think that I have tried to make bread since I lived at home, so a rather long time ago. Clearly, over the years, I had forgotten how much flour-y mess is involved with bread-making.

It wasn't really a disaster, as you can see in the photos. Ella had a ball, especially when it came to punching down the dough. We also ended up with perfectly edible bread; B even went so far as to call it 'Great' bread. I just put this warning out there for any other moms who get ambitious and decide to do this as an activity with the kids-

1. it takes HOURS to go from measuring ingredients to eating actual bread. Not only will a 4 year-old get a bit impatient, but a 34 year-old may also find the time rather long, causing her to ignore the instructions to let the bread rise an hour before putting it in the oven. Moms, trust me, its better to follow the instructions. And,

2. do not clean your floors BEFORE you make the bread. This is not only stupid but may irritate your normally even-tempered cleaner to point that you fear that she may chuck a bottle of Mr Clean at your head when the 2nd round of kneading leaves yet another dusting of flour over everything in the kitchen. oops. And I thought we were being so careful.

I am impressed that it worked so well. Imagine how fabulous it will be the second time when I do everything right (I also used a recipe for pain de mie and ignored the part about adding butter because, frankly, it sounded like a bother.)? Also, I kind of don't see the point of making a loaf of bread at home when I can pay a euro for something lovely and fresh from the boulangerie. If I do the recipe again, I'm thinking of using the dough for cinnamon rolls. Now, that would be something worth taking a bottle of dishsoap to the head.

Happy tape project

I just saw this on Ohdeedoh and think that it would be a fantastic project for my Happy Tape. And how appropriate now that I am entering Birthday Season.

So the superhero capes are ordered and I'm just waiting to see what they are going to charge to put a rush on the order to get it here in time for the party. I am so mad at myself! I've been looking at them for about two weeks and trying to figure out with Ella how many kids we would have to the party but basically just procrastinating. Now I am literally going to pay for it. Sigh.

Off this afternoon with Georgia to brave the cold and find a Sam Sam book to use to make invites. Now that I have bought the capes there had better be a kid here to wear each one and the only way to do that is to get the invites out ASAP. Kids are so overbooked these days that I might even be cutting it close giving only 2 weeks notice.

Did I mention that I also bought capes for me and B to dress up as super Mommy and Daddy? This is going to be such a fun party.

On Friday I found out that an old school friend of mine died. Its been turning around in my head for the last few days. He was 36 years old. He had two children and his wife was pregnant with their third. He coached soccer. He started a non-profit organization to help disadvantaged, neglected, and troubled youths in his community. He was a really good person. And not just on paper. I hadn't seen him in years, in fact, practically decades. But I don't expect that he changed much from the person he was at the age of 19, from what it sounds like.

He was from Nigeria and we met at my boarding school in New Mexico. He was one of those people who just feel really solid, very sure of themselves. And obviously he did know what he wanted to do in life because he had already accomplished so much- a successful business and a family. It makes me wonder what things he would have done if he had been given an entire life to live instead of half of one.

I knew that he had gone to university in California but was surprised that he hadn't gone back to Nigeria ever. I suppose his life was a bit like mine- you start on one path, thinking that it is just a bit of an adventure but somehow it meanders off in a direction entirely different than the one you had imagined, especially once you get married and have children. Also, he was so young that maybe it was part of the plan but he never had a chance to get back. He apparently died of a rare form of liver cancer after a very short battle.

Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal after spending the last week and a half watching the death toll mount in Haiti. Its true that the horrible images that you see on the television make you almost say that someone like Emeke was one of the lucky ones, to die cleanly- in a hospital with his family nearby, no doubt. But Haiti was a place where life was fragile. My brother had gone last year with a friend to give money to help set up a oil refinery. He described the places he had visited and the people he had seen and it made you wonder how anyone managed to stay alive- and this was before they suffered from a cataclysmic natural disaster.

Emeke, on the other hand, was solid. He was a big, strong athelete. His beliefs were set in stone. I can imagine thousands of people dying in Haiti. I can't imagine a disease big enough to take out my friend.

Maybe its just a very narcisstic thing. Emeke was part of my youth, my life. I feel like my life is still just getting started. I've not hardly started on the things that I am supposed to be doing. So how can a piece of me, of my life, already be dead? I suppose it makes me feel like the clock is ticking when I've been wasting my time saying, 'Life is long and there will be many different chapters to live so enjoy this one before the next one starts.'

Maybe I've got it all backwards.

I am sitting here watching Georgia busy playing. She pushed herself in her walker over to the entry where she found my purse on a low shelf. She is pulling items out, one by one, and examining each thing like it is the most extraordinary thing that she has ever seen. Its moments like this when you realize how life is just one big discovery for a baby. Everything is new.

She has just found a chapstick. She twisted it around and was a bit surprised when the top half, the cover, came off in her hand. She peered inside the top and then stuck her finger in there. Then she looked in the bottom and saw that there was something inside. She has taken her finger and poked it in, pulled her finger out to examine it, and now has stuck her finger in her mouth, to taste whatever she found. She smacks her lips, turns the tube around one more time to see all the writing. Bangs it on the tray a few times and then checks back inside the tube to see if anything falls out. She puts the whole tube in her mouth once, pulls it out, and looks at it very closely again. Finally, she tosses it on the floor and reaches in my bag for another item.

You try to put yourself in the place of a baby. Imagine finding a bag full of fascinating objects, things that you had never seen in your entire life. You had no idea what purpose they serve. I try to imagine how exciting it would be to touch these things and wonder about them.

After having a baby around for awhile, you stop noticing how every day is something new. But moments like this are magic, when it is quiet enough and calm enough that I can appreciate and even participate a bit in her giant Discovery of Life. Its really fuzzy and just barely flitting around the edges of my memory, but if I try hard enough, I can almost remember that feeling. Being little and being mesmerized by something New.

I remember being about 8 months old and being left alone on the floor near the cupboards at my Grandfather's house, the cupboards without the old-fashioned latches, the ones that had a button you had to press to pop the latch. They were shiny metal and worn smooth from years of use. They made a nice 'thunk' sound when the latch popped. I remember sitting there and being totally absorbed, touching the latch and trying to open it myself.

It makes me think about other memories from when I was really really young, and how they seem so disconnected. But maybe that is what a baby's mind is like- totally absorbed in one object or task and then an adult comes and scoops you up, and suddenly you find yourself somewhere else entirely, being handed some other object, and suddenly you are completely absorbed in this new item that has appeared. Sometimes when I see items that my mom had when I was a baby, I have strangly strong reactions. I glimpse a blanket in a stack on the shelf and I remember laying on the blanket and examining it, the way the yarn ties curl up and fuzz at the corner of each of the patchworks. I see a picture hanging at the end of the hall and I feel the ridges of its frame, bumping under my nails. I put Georgia in her pyjamas and, as I stand in my childhood bedroom with the pale green carpetting, I can feel my feet sweating against the rubbery bottoms of my footy pyjamas, the blue ones with the white plastic feet that matched my sister's red ones. I wander through the toy section trying to find Christmas presents for the girls, and the chemical smell of all the plastic reminds me of the gritty feel of the yellow plastic on the play shopping cart that I received for Christmas when I was two.

Its funny how these memories flash into my head, surprising me and at the same time feeling worn smooth, as if they had been touched every day for years. It makes my stomach tense up with excitement, thinking of all the other memories that must be lingering around the corner, just waiting for the right signal to jump out and say, 'Here I am.'

It makes me look at the girls every day and think, 'Will they remember this? How about this?' Which events from today are the ones that they will turn over and over again in their head as they fall to sleep, the ones that will come back to them when they are grown up and remembering. As I paste the pictures in their photo albums, I wonder if the photos will jog memories and they will remember how that day smelled. Or how the cake batter felt sticky on their faces. Or how the cold air pinched the insides of their noses.

And what I often ask myself is, why do I spend so much time printing out photos and carefully pasting them in the albums? Why is it so important to me to try and pin down all these moments, especially when I am constantly being impressed by how intense my childhood memories come back to me? Maybe its just the randomness of memory that worries me. It feels like I have no control over what disappears and what sticks. Maybe that is what the albums are for. Like this, I remember the girls' childhood exactly as I want to. I choose the pictures. I write the captions. The universe doesn't get to decide which day gets lost and which moment will haunt me.

Will it work?

Piggy flu?

I don't know what Georgia has picked up, but she is FINALLY taking a nap and I'm hoping that when she wakes up, she is feeling a bit better. She has had a fever of 39.5/103 since Wednesday, more or less. She has a bit of a runny nose and on Thursday her diapers were toxic* and she is a bit cranky but after some Doliprane, seems just fine. I can't bear the thought of going to sit in my pediatrician's waiting room for an entire afternoon, just to have him tell me, 'I don't know what she's got. Just keep giving her paracetamol, I guess.' So we'll wait this one out. Oh, how did I manage to suppress the horrible memories of ella's first year in daycare, when she caught every single bloody cold, cough, gastro, flu, and ski disease (foot and mouth disease was my favorite, if you're keeping track at home) that when around. Guess we are in for a few more months of fun until her immune system is a lean, mean fightin' machine. I'll just keep downing vitamin C and taking power naps so that I can keep up.

*This is a blog post in and of itself- she has started rejecting baby food and insisting on eating food off of our plates. Her poor little digestive system is having a rough time of it, I imagine. I'm going to need to see some sort of improvement soon or desperate measures will need to be employed (Declare her changing table a Superfund site? Buy a hazmat suit? ) I may need to look into that thing where you balance your infant on the toilet seat 25 times a day, until she figures it out and is potty-trained before she can walk. I actually know someone who did this successfully, with her two kids. And yes, I would qualify her as certifiably insane.

Due to Mystery Illness #359, she didn't go to daycare on Wednesday, got kicked out early on Thursday, and we missed playgroup on Friday. So I did not get a lot done this week. I did finish up Ella's album, which feels like an enormous accomplishment. I ran out of picture corners though (I think I went through about 1000 on Ella. Yikes) so that threw up a roadblock for a few days. I did manage to get over to Bon Marche one morning to pick up some more and was bummed to see that they had all the picture frames marked down an extra 40%, making it a total of 64% off regular price! But since I hadn't had a chance to go through my stuff and figure out what I wanted framed and where I wanted to hang it, I couldn't take advantage. Rats.

I did go out and buy a new desk chair on Friday. I should have done this in December because there is the usual 8 week delivery delay, which sucks. And even though we had pretty much decided on the model back before Christmas, I only went to look through their fabric selection yesterday. The salesperson told me that they had like a thousand different fabrics to choose from so i had high hopes of getting exactly what I had been imagining in my head. Imagine my joy to find out that they actually had about 950 different types of linen, in different weaves of the same 35 colors. Arg. I chose this fabric, mainly because B was really excited about it, but I'm not that sure. I think the color is good for the living room, but my worry is that the chair will be sitting in front of curtains that are basically the same color, a little lighter. I think it might be a bit too blah. But it will also be sitting in front of a built in desk unit that is all dark wood, so a brown/beige would have been too dark, I think. And although I was fairly sure that I nice ivory would have been great, we have two small children (one of whom is Georgia...) so there is no way that a white chair would survive the year. I'm just hoping that I can easily sew up a slipcover for the chair, if it turns out to look all wrong. See, this is where I always wish that I had a very talented decorator girlfriend who could pop over to give me a bit of advice. I have lots of opinions about whether or not something looks right, but not enough experience to know ahead of time.

In any case, this chair is our test case since it isn't too expensive. We need two chairs for the ends of the dining table and I wanted to buy this one, but it costs a fortune. We decided to try out a cheaper chair to see if we could live with it before committing to the expensive Baker version. We already blew our budget when we got the Charm Chair by Studiovolto for the side chairs, so a little effort is required, unless I want to spend the next year serving buttered pasta to my children.

Speaking of expensive stuff, the only other thing that I accomplished this week was buying Ella's ski gear. I am crossing my fingers and hoping that she doesn't grow more than 2 inches in the next year (or two, that would be nice) so that it fits for more than 5 mintues. She looks so cute though! And to top it all off, I cracked for a pair of Moonboots. I don't remember them being this awesome when I was a kid. I think I kind of remember hating them because they seemed so big and heavy. She loves them because they make her about 5 cms taller. I love them because they make her little legs look like toothpicks. I wish I had a photo but it takes like 20 minutes to get her stuffed and zipped and buckled into everything, so you'll just have to wait til we get to the mountains.

I also sorted out my jacket situation. I tried on the Pyrenex jacket and, frankly, I looked stupid. I think its one of those things that you need to be a 6 ft tall model to wear without looking like a linebacker for the Bears. I ended up getting a really nice fleece and a vest with a fur hood (makes me feel like a snow bunny) from Narapujri. I looked at proper ski jackets but the ones I liked were over 300 euros, and lets face it, my ski skills do no merit 300 euros of gear. They probably ring up at around 1.50 to be honest. Ella is only doing half days at ski school so I will definitely only be doing half days of skiing, with the other half spent at the pool. Or reading. Or napping. Yeah, probably napping. I wonder if that vest makes a good pillow? Then I would definitely get my money's worth.

Hopefully by teh end of the weekend, I'll have my album all caught up on so I can (finally) cross that off my To Do list. I also need to start ordering stuff ASAP for Ella's birthday, which is in less than 3 weeks. She has decided to do a Sam Sam/superhero party, which I think sounds fun. I wanted to order personalized superhero capes for all the kids, but she will not stick to a guest list for more than 5 minutes. Sigh. 4 year-olds are fickle friends. What do you do in this situation? Do you just say, Suck it up. I'm making the guest list and you just have to try and stay friends with all these kids til the big day. Or do you sort of hold out til the last possible minute for invites. Hmmm. To be decided.

I've also got to figure out a way to build Sam Sam's spaceship, I've got my heart set on it. But I can't think of anything bigger than a salade bowl made of clear plastic that can serve as the lid. Any ideas? Also need to find a place where I can have t-shirts embroidered. If I have to, I'll have it done in the States and have them shipped here with the capes, but all those shipping problems just add an extra unwanted layer of stress. And I'm already at my limit, hoping that Benedicte and Orna stop insisting on being Barbie Mousequetaires at recre and play Tinker Fairies with Ella so that they can stay on the guest list.

Ballet for kids

Yesterday Ella and I had the nicest Wednesday afternoon that we had in awhile. Way back in September, when Ella's dance class was cancelled and I decided not to sign her up for the more serious dance school, I went online and bought tickets for all kinds of special shows and concerts and spectacles. I figured that she could get just as much out of watching dance as she could by participating (or atleast, compared to the amount of dancing that she did in her old class. There was lots of giggling and making funny faces in the mirrors, but not much else...) I had forgotten about lots of the things and was a bit surprised when tickets arrived in the mail last week for a dance spectacle at the Opera Bastille.

I had bought two children's tickets so I had to quick get on the phone and find a friend to come with. Not wanting a repeat of last weeks ENDLESS playdate, I immediately ruled out any and all children with working parents, and we were only left with a few options. When I mentioned it to Ella, she begged me to ask Owen, a boy from our anglophone playgroup. I didn't know if he liked dance but his mom was really excited about and even decided to bring her younger daughter to see if they could find some scalped tickets at the last minute. Maybe I'm just an uncultured American but it never occurred to me that someone would try to scalp tickets a children's ballet show...

Our friends came over early to play and then we slogged our way through the puddles and rain to the opera house. My friend managed to buy two tickets at the desk as there were quite a few that had never been picked up. Its good to know that even when the Internet shows a sold out seance, there are generally ones like this to be had at the last minute, according to the person at the info desk. There wasn't much of a crowd and in the amphitheatre where they held the show, it was set up so that the kids could either sit on the floor right next to where the dancer was or in the first few rows of seats. They set it up to feel really intimate, which was so nice for a show aimed at kids 3-6 years old.

We saw this show and I loved it. Ella kept asking me when the dansers were coming; I think that she expected the ballet dancers like we saw last time. This was set to Japanese music, with a really beautiful light show, and movements that copied animals, isolated one part of the body, or were just a bit silly to make the kids laugh. I thought it was so clever. The only bad thing was that I wasn't sitting next to Ella and so I couldn't point out the interesting bits. I think that once she lost interest, she spaced out on the rest of the show.

Oh well. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Afterwards, we were all ready for a gouter and I remembered reading about a good patisserie near the Bastille where there were tables. By the way, if you haven't bought a copy of the guide book The Patisseries of Paris by Jamie Cahill, you really should run right out and fix that. Its such a nice way to visit Paris, if you don't know the city well. And when you live here, there is nothing better than knowing all the best places to find a treat. I don't even eat many sweets or cakes and I have gotten my money's worth from this book many times over.

Once again, the book's advice was spot on for the Cafe Francais and we had such a fantastic treat. I loved my millefeuille and the two little girls both got a chocolate mousse cake type of thing that was also a hit. You could tell because they were both covered in chocolate by the time we left.

There are only a few more spectacle this year in the Jeune Public program at the Opera de Paris, but I am definitely going to take Ella to as many as I can. Its obviously great for her but I realized that I love doing stuff like this and its a good way to share one of my passions with her. Maybe in time, it'll turn out that this isn't really her thing (when I was telling B about it last night over dinner, he said that he would have died of boredom if his mom had tried to force him to get cultured. He may have even mimed gagging at one point in my story... God, he's such a caveman sometimes. Let's hope my genes win on this one.) but until then, what a great was to fill up her day off of school.

I am going to try and get her to some more classical ballet shows, like the Balanchine that we saw in November. She LOVED that. She tells people about it all the time, despite the fact that we had miserable seats and she could barely see (note to anyone booking the Baignoires, be sure to arrive extra extra early so you are in the front of the box and not in the back). I noticed that there is a ballet by Nureyev running in May that looks amazing, if a bit long. Thats the trick with the regular ballet shows- I need to buy seats good enough that Ella can see well, but not so expensive that I get upset if she gets bored and fidgetty and we need to leave early.

Still, it all ends up being less expensive than certain ballet classes that surprise you with astronomical bills for special tutus (are they special because they are made of gold?!!) for the end of the year recital, right?

A very unexpected hangover

Last night, I was sitting at the dining room table, busily pasting photos into Ella's album to take advantage of the time I had while sitter played with the girls, when the phone rang. B had just gotten a call from one of his Italian cousins who was with some friends and in town for work. Could we meet them for dinner? I quick checked with the sitter to see if she could stay late and got on the phone to find a nice French restaurant in the neighborhood where we could get a table for 6 at the last minute. Luckily, L'Atelier Maitre Albert said no problem. I ran into the bathroom and realized that I was lucky that I had two hours to get ready. I looked like I was ready to climb into bed (mainly due to a late afternoon change of clothes a result of Georgia's predeliction for 'sharing' her food). Ahhh, I remember back when I could walk out of the house at a moments notice to meet people. When I was young, unlined, and almost always had clean clothes on...

No, two hours was plenty of time to pull myself together and grab a bit of caffeine so that I could make it up past my 9:30 bedtime. B even talked me into wearing the Manolo's that had been sitting unworn in my closet since I bought them way back in November. Talk about a big night out. I had to laugh though- I am so unused to wearing very high heels that I was tottering around like a twelve-year-old who raided her mommy's closet. That drives home the fact that I have not been getting out enough. I used to be able to sprint down a cobbled street, chasing down taxis in heels higher than the ones I wore last night. Well, note to self- start wearing heeled boots when pushing Georgia in the stroller to get my calf muscles back into shape.

Dinner was really nice- I love that restaurant in the winter because the room is so cosy with the black walls and a massive old fireplace that is always lit. And I like that the menu is really simple but everything is done exceptionally well. I had artichoke soup with winter mushrooms for an entree and it was amazingly good. They put the sauteed mushrooms in the bowl and then once the plate is on the table, the waitress brings the giant bowl of soup, to spoon in the quantity that you want. The first bite, I could taste artichoke, but it seemed a bit flat, not very interesting. As we were talking, I was absent-mindedly stirring my soup, and when I took my next bite, all the flavors had melded together to make the soup something else entirely. Honestly, I would go back to the restaurant again tonight just to enjoy another bowl of that soup. It was just perfect.

The only problem with dinner was that the two Italian girls did not drink wine and the water bottle was nearly always empty (they were also closer to the fire so I think that the were a bit warm as well as thirsty). I have practically a tick and I can't sit at the table and not drink. Normally, when B and I go to dinner, I can polish off 1.5 liters of water all by myself. But since I couldn't keep my water glass filled last night, I ended up drinking wine. Too much wine. And then after dinner, B invited everyone back to our place for a digestif. Now, I know that I didn't have to have a digestif with everyone else. But I was too drunk from all the wine and didn't have the sense to say no. So, last night, I was actually happy when Georgia shouted at 4am for her tetine and drink of water because I woke up and realized that I needed a big drink of water myself and an aspirin (or three) if I wanted to feel human in the morning.

So there are two things that I have forgotten about while hibernating over the last few months with the baby- how to walk in heels and how to handle my liquor. Gosh, next thing you know, I'll be burping out loud and telling stories about medical interventions. I had thought about skipping the vernissage we were invited to on Thursday but I think in the interest of maintaining my social graces- or what few that remain- we better book the babysitter.

Design dilemma

This weekend, we decided that it was time to move the mattress to the lowest position in the crib as Georgia is likely to figure out any day now how to pull herself up while in her sleep sack. Atleast that is what B thinks. I think that she is a bit like a turtle when she is on her back. She cannot seem to figure out that all she has to do is roll on to her tummy and then she can sit up. Right now, she lays there yelling and tries to use her abs of steel to sit straight up. Maybe its not stupidity though. She seems to be ornery like her mommy so maybe its become a principle thing?

ANYHOO- when we put down the mattress, I was suddenly confronted with the dilemma, what do I do with the crib skirt? I had always planned to just hem it up at this point, but now, I think it looks really strange. On the otherhand, I also think that the bed looks strange with nothing. Due to the amount of sewing involved, I am leaning towards no bed skirt. What do you all think?

(PS: to see what the crib looked like before, go here.)

The anti-organiser

While she did that, I did this:

which made me so happy that I didn't even mind having to spend 15 minutes sorting out her mess.

A very productive weekend

Despite having spent the weekend fighting off a cold, I actually got lots done. I suppose that it what happens when you are stuck in the house for hours on end and can't go out and waste time on pointless errands. Exactly what I needed.

Now, the number one task on the to-do list was the ski holiday. Booked! B extended an olive branch (after laughing heartily at my suggestion that I fly with the two girls to Phoenix , "15 hours on a plane? For fun? Sounds like a great vacation. Feel free to book the tickets." Ok, maybe that was such a brilliant idea after all...) and called his stepmom to see if she would babysit Georgia while we were skiing. She said that she would be glad to and that immediately made planning so much easier. Then B told me that he had spoken to his SIL who suggested La Clusaz as a really family friendly ski station. I actually trust her advice, so I looked on line, we found some really nice hotels that do demi-pension and had pools/spas, and B immediately phoned up to check for vacancies. In a half hour, it was sorted. Ahhh. Now all that remains is the small question of packing our bags- of course, I realized that Ella has no snow gear so this afternoon I am off to try and buy a ski suit. I don't have a jacket this year so I also have to do some hunting. I was thinking of one of these from Alex Mabille for Pyrenex, but I need to try one on before I can really decide. Despite being from a cold climate (or maybe because of it, I suppose) its hard for me to work up enthusiasm for snow sports and the clothing it involves. Now, bikini/sunhat/beach bag shopping, that is stuff I can get behind.

Only one hiccup- I realized, once we had it all sorted out that we would be gone on Georgia's first birthday. Does that make me a HORRIBLE mother or just a horrible mother? We are going to try and fix this somehow but as B pointed out, Georgia won't know the difference if we celebrate a day late. Good point. Why doesn't that make me feel better?

The next big job that I promised to do was the photo albums. Well, I made good progress, but there are ALOT of photos. Even more than I thought there were. I finished up album #4 and am well into album #5, but I still have a stack of photos 2 inches high that need to be stuck in the book. That can't be more than 75 photos, right? 100, tops. Slim possibility that it is actually 150 and I don't dare count or I may have to kill myself. And this is only for Ella. Then I have to do my album, which is much smaller project, and finally, get started on Georgia's. Dios Mio.

I did continue with my cupboard clean-up/out. I attacked my make-up bag. Small in size, big in irritation factor since everyday involves digging around and getting my hands covered in purple powder from that one time an eyeshadow lid came off. I swiped an organizer out of B's nightstand- it was supposed to be for electronics but he never used it and it looked just the right size for me. I wiped everything down and fit it in to the little compartments. Success! And can I just tell me what secret joy I get every morning when I pull it out of the cupboard, all the little pots arranged neatly in rows, the lipsticks ready to grab with my spotlessly clean hands. Ahhh. Its the small pleasures that make life worth living.

Meanwhile, Georgia makes sure that is one step forward, two steps back... Photos to follow.