the pieces of my life

Coming home is a bitch. I don’t just mean that no one has a freshly baked flakey croissant and piping hot cafe au lait for me every morning. Nor do I just mean missing out on the lunchtime bottles of wine. And it’s not just daily visits to some of the most beautiful places in France—fields of sunflowers and lavender, galleries filled with art we’ve only read about, views of cityscapes.

It’s starting to run again after an almost three-week break. It’s realizing I now need to pay for those daily croissants. It’s single parenting while Adam returns to work. It’s three weeks till school starts, two birthday parties to plan, novel blurbs to beg for, a new novel to outline, school supplies to shop for, playdates, visits to parents, and all the other things that come with being home.

Today’s run was difficult. My bedroom smells no longer of the lavender soaps I brought home but of my muggy sweaty running clothes. The humid air has brought the return of my sinus headaches.

And yet, when I say, “Let’s move to Paris,” Adam looks at me funny and says, “Why?”

Why indeed?

Please tell us about your summer vacation in seven minutes or less.

Music from Claire Denamur.

I had the dinner to end all dinners tonight. It was an amazing tasting menu from Grain de Sel. But it was huge.

Usually, after a dinner like that, I complain to Adam, “Why did you let me eat all of that?” and he comes up with some lame excuse like, “Because I’m mean,” or “It’s not my fault!”

Tonight, though, for something different, I asked the boy as we walked to the hotel from dinner, “Why’d you let me eat so much?”

And without missing a beat, he said, “‘Cause I want a big, fat momma.”

That boy is definitely a keeper.

I’m so tired. Really tired. How tired? This tired:

We go to an early dinner, which here means 7 pm. A couple at the next table, which is inches from ours and impossible not to eavesdrop on, starts talking.

Me: What is that?
Adam: What?
Me: What language are they speaking?
Adam looks at me a little funny and whispers something.
Me: What are you saying? Is that German?
Adam mutters something again.
Me: I can’t understand you! What are they speaking? Is it German or not?
Adam, speaking up slightly and with a vague hiss: They’re speaking English! It’s British English!

Oohhhh!

We visited our local market this morning; had a picnic of wine, bread, cheese, and pate at the Pont du Gard; and then spent three hours kayaking on the Rhone. At first I kayaked with the boy, in the double kayak, which was nice. But not as nice as it was for Adam as the girl insisted on doing all the rowing herself.

We passed under the aqueduct that we had visited earlier.
Me: Look, isn’t the aqueduct magnificent!
The boy: Huh?
Me: The aqueduct! It’s incredible to row under it.
The boy, as we pass the massive stone structure above us: What’s an aqueduct?
Me: Are you kidding me? The thing we just visited? The structure we climbed up to view? The massive piece of Roman engineering used to move water?
The boy: Oh, AqueDUCT! I thought you said aqueDECK! I didn’t kniw what an aquedeck was. Yeah, yeah. It’s nice.
Me: ???

After a break for water and a swim in the river, we traded kids in the kayak. And as I was about to lean back and relax and let the girl do her thing, the girl announced she was tired and would no longer row. So instead she sang and occasionally dragged her paddle in the water till I’d yell at her to at least hold her oar up.

And now, after a dinner in which the girl discovered chocolate mousse, we are all overly tanned, overly tired, and very happy.

Bon nuit.

My boy now goes around saying, “Ca va, Papa?” My girl now pretends to smoke. Have we been in France too long?

Nah. St. Remy de Provence is a little heaven. Our hotel is unbelievable with a romantic view (hard for me to capture on the iPhone, but I tried) and a pool. The kids have discovered three sweet shops in a one-block radius. Try getting us to leave.

Of course our bodies are turning to mush. Yes, we walk a ton. But I haven’t run since Paris and I’m guessing I probably won’t. The kids have barely glanced at a vegetable, never mind eaten one. Breakfast has hot chocolate. Often a pain au chocolat. We usually have a midday ice cream. Lunch for the boy is (deja vu?) steak hachette (a burger) and for the girl plain pasta with butter. Cokes to keep them going. Must have a pastry or macaroon or bon bon. Dinner for the boy is steak hachette (a burger) and for the girl plain pasta with butter. Orangina to make sure they’re not caffeinated at night. And it generally comes with dessert.

As hard as it’s going to be for us grown ups, the kids are in for a world of hurt–in the manner of carrots and red peppers–when we return!

No matter how tired your kids legs are or how much their feet hurt, your kids will still insist on skipping the elevator and running up the stairs to our 3rd floor (4th by American standards) room.

The bus is only faster than the Metro to the Beauborg if you’re waiting at the correct bus stop.

The kids don’t listen to “Settle down!” any better in Paris than they do in Boston.

Popping bubbles outside the Beauborg is as much fun as going inside.

Beauborg is actually spelled Beaubourg.

My son is physically incapable of walking in a straight line. My daughter cannot last more than two minutes without breaking into a song.

My daughter is extremely impressed with my French. No one else is.

Adam is convinced his French is as good as mine. “The only problem,” he says, “is when I go to speak French, German comes out.” Huh?

Old habits die hard. I tell Pie to go to the bathroom before we head out to the Louvre. She’s watching Hannah Montana dubbed in French. “How do I pause the TV here?”

There must be something in the Parisian water: Two kids, three lost teeth!

Off to the Louvre!

Give up all semblance of rational parenting, that is. Eating? Eh, whatever you want. Bedtime? What’s that? Kids out of control? Just pour me another glass of wine.

I am writing this blog post courtesy of Comedy Central Osterreich. The boy always begs to watch South Park. I don’t let him. But South Park in German? Sure, why not. If he starts saying, “Du hast Kenny toten gemacht!” then more power to him.

The kids love Paris. Et porquoi pas? Today alone, each had a hot chocolate, an eclair, a Coke, French fries, a chocolate sorbet, and diablo avec grenadine (aka a Shirley Temple). And that’s only because they didn’t want any of my offered chocolate crepe. Mmmm, chocolate crepe.

I think we’ve learned some of the secrets of traveling with kids. The first, of course, is incredibly low expectations. The second, never save the best for last. Adam and I got the museum pass, which covers multiple museums. Today we went to the Musee D’Orsay and went straight to the Degas ballerina, do not pass go, do not collect 200 Euros.

Once that was viewed, the girl was open to seeing other things, and we actually read about some of the art work, talked about what we thought, and the kids took some time to sketch.

After the Museum, we headed to Notre Dame, where the girl got the much-longed for beret and the boy enjoyed visiting Notre Dame. He liked it because he just finished reading (an abridged version of) The Hunchback of Notre Dame; the girl enjoyed waiting in line to see the cathedral and then, after 3.2 seconds, demanding to be taken to the bathroom, which of course was outside.

The kids are finally on a Parisian schedule, and for our 8:30 dinner, I had the opportunity to eat with abandon: onion soup, foie gras, and lots of red wine. Joy!

Finally, we pressed our luck and took the kids to the 10 pm Eiffel Tower light show. Our kids who have a 7:30 bedtime in their own time zone. (Note, it’s still not completely dark at 10!) I have a feeling we’ll pay for this tomorrow….

But, hey, who cares? This is Paris. And there’s always another bottle of wine.

Disclaimer: I’m updating from my phone while on vacation, so I apologize in advance for typos. Also, I can only post iPhone pics so you’ll have to wait till I can download from my camera for the good stuff. Also, remember, Beetle is at our house, so don’t even think of trying anything!

So many sights. And the most exciting things? One: You have to lick the stamps (and I was surprised to realize my kids had never seen that). Two: Someone made our beds while we were out.

Day one was trying. The kids were exhausted. About 4 1/2 hours of sleep on the flight over. We spent the morning at the Jardin Du Luxembourg where the kids played in the fabulous playground and then we watched (in French) a puppet show. We got into our room, napped, and voila! We were human again. The afternoon was spent lazing about the Champs du Mars, sketching the Eiffel Tower.

Evening time we rode a Bateau Mouche on the Seine.

Kids slept from 11 pm to 10 am when I woke them.

Today we went up the Eiffel Tower, which was way more interesting than I had thought it would be. We had lunch up top, and the girl was gaga over her dessert. BTW, the shirt is from Target back home; the girl insisted she HAD to wear it to the Eiffel Tower.

In the afternoon, it was super hot so we took off our shoes and plunged our feet into the icy Trocadero fountain.

This is what passes for dinner.

Tonight, early to bed so we can have a full day tomorrow. And thus our adventures have begun….

I’m supposed to be packing. (Note to you would-be robbers: We have a house sitter. Beetle will be staying at the house the entire time we are gone, and let me tell you, her bite is much worse than her bark, so stay away!) But instead I’m cleaning Silly Putty from a ballerina blanket; answering the question, “I’m bored. What can I do?” in a million, apparently inadequate, ways; hitting “Get Mail” twelve times a minute to see if my agent has anything to say to me; stressing that I have NO idea what to pack; stressing because I wanted to make somewhat of a plan for our trip because the kids want to do 2,345 things while we’re gone and we’ll have time for about 8; and obviously wasting time blogging to let you know that I’m not doing what I need to be doing.

But it’s okay. Because soon, my kids will be complaining on a completely different continent, a continent where there is enough red wine to keep me in buzzed bliss for the rest of my life.

Where are we going? Ah, I should let that be a surprise. But I will give you a hint. I had the kids decorate the travel journals they’re going to use while we’re there. And this is what they did:

I will have Internet access, but I hopefully won’t be using it too much. I’ll either be posting a ton… or not at all, depending on how my whims strike me.

Á bientôt!

The Necessity of Disney Channel

Hypothesis: Children are addicted to the Disney Channel and will experience tremors if it is withdrawn abruptly.

Experiment:
1. Take two children to museum specializing in avant-garde art.
2. Place them in a room that is showing a Runa Islam‘s video Be the First to See What You See As You See It, a video with a woman fondling, and occasionally breaking, pieces of China. She also drinks tea.
3. Stand back and observe.

Result: Children stay seated and engaged for 10.25 minutes. The film is 7.5 minutes long, shown on a loop.

Conclusion: Who needs Disney? Any screen in a port will do.