Actually, I Think You Should Take Your Own Advice: A Scene From the Bedroom

.... as overheard from downstairs.

Quarta:  "Quinta, DODO!!!!"

[In English?  "Quinta, go to sleep!"]

In other news, Quinta has finally been moved out of our room; she and Quarta are now roommates.

I Love A GOOD Tourist Trap

One of the things that I looked forward to the most about living in France was the opportunity to travel.  Finally, I could see all the places I had dreamed of visiting--without having to fly.  Places like Helsinki (you can take the girl out of the U.P. ...), Pompeii, Copenhagen, Barcelona, Strasbourg, Vienna, Chamonix... the list is endless.

Still waiting.  It turns out that X is not really all that interested in travel.  Perhaps I should have inquired about that at an earlier time.

That said, because to the extent that we get work, that work is most often done at home, which quickly led me to set up a schedule.  Each of us gets a few hours on, a few hours off, and one full uninterrupted day a week.  Usually on my day -- Wednesday -- X manages to get called in to the sound studio where he works on an irregular basis.  On his day -- Sunday -- I generally pretend that we're on vacation, and take the kids on a day trip.

If you asked the kids where we went last Sunday, they would probably tell you about only one part of it:  McDonald's!!!!  Because they like to let everybody know how klassy we are.  But the bigger and better part of the day, and the point of the whole trip, kids, was a visit to a local capital-T Tourist Trap, Le Chateau des Enigmes.



(How was I so sure that it's a tourist trap?  Because if there's one thing I've learned during the past 9 months, it's this:  if the establishment has a Website in English, or any person working there who speaks English at all?  Tourist trap.)

Well, it turned out to be TRES fun.  The chateau's schtick is that there is a "parcours" that the kids follow, with a couple of dozen stations along the way.  Each station has a riddle or a puzzle that the kids have to solve.  And did I mention that the entire thing is based on The Three Musketeers?  So they've ingeniously figured out how to make the tour educational, literary-wise.  Behold:

Reading is fundamental, kids!  This sign gave them a clue
to find Milady, who spied for  Cardinal Richlieu.

Upon finding "Milady," about whom the kids of course knew nothing, the Chateau provided a brief explanation of her role:

And this being France, even a children's attraction in France, Milady?  Turned out to be a sexxxxx-ay lady indeed:




The kids' job was to find the missing puzzle piece to complete here and receive their next clue.  (This is kind of sounding like The Amazing Race, no?)  I should probably be embarrassed to admit how long it took me to figure out this puzzle.  Let's just say that the shape of Milady's tattoo turned out to be the key.

After tromping around outside for the better part of an hour (yay, Chateau! -- I'll preview the end of this story by saying that the kids returned home just like I like 'em:  Good And Tired), we finally headed to the castle for more clues.  Or should I say.... the dungeon.  Which provided all kinds of teachable moments about what happens to small boys who don't listen to their mothers:

My only complaint about Rochefort is that the chateau didn't add a soundtrack
warning small visitors to stay in school and don't do drugs.

Notwithstanding my failure to turn Rochefort's dungeon into a "Scared Straight" moment, a good time was had by all.  Primarily because at the end of the tour, the kids feed their answers into a computer (which they totally had in Dumas's time, right?).  All children with correct answers (or, um, parents who might have helped a little bit) get, I kid you not, diplomas.  A Bachelor's in touristtrapology, I am guessing.  So if you ever find yourself in the middle of southwest France with a group of kids who just might not REALLY be onboard with a vineyard-heavy itinerary, the Chateau des Enigmes is well worth checking out, or even staying overnight in their tree houses.  Which are so cool that, unlike my little ingrates, your kids might even forget all about McDo's.

Blog note:  With any luck, this is the last post you will see with pictures taken by my crappy iPod Touch!  Thanks to Stasha at Northwest Mommy for patiently answering all my stupid questions about what kind of DSLR to buy.

Aggression Issues: A Scene From the Crib

Cugina, as overheard by her mother Sorella over the baby monitor:  "Goddamnit, Nemo!  You BURPED!"

Busted, Part 2

Me:  "So, when are you going to get around to ironing the shirts you've had hanging over a chair in the kitchen for the last month?"

X:  "I ironed those last week!  I just haven't been upstairs today to hang them up."

Me:  "Have you been upstairs at any point during the last week?"

X:  [Crickets.]

Well, Actually, Neither Do YOU, Mister

Me, in a very hopeful tone of voice after a very long morning:  "Quarta, how about a nap?  Say au revoir!"

Quarta, throwing herself on the ground and kicking her feet:  "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!!"

Me:  "Yep, I think she might be tired."

Secondo:  "Mom, you DO NOT KNOW what is in her mind!"

Mommy's Pteromerhanophobia Outweighs Her Desire to Encourage the Kids: A Scene From the Dinner Table

Me:  "So, what do you guys want to be when you grow up?"

Terzo:  "I want to be a teacher!"

Me:  "That's great!  What kind of teacher?"

Terzo:  "I want to teach little kids!"

Secondo:  "And I want to be an airplane pilot!"

Me:  "Wow!  Is there anything else you might want to try?  Like being a police officer or a firefighter?"

Secondo:  "MOM.  You're trying to get me to change my mind, aren't you?"

For the depressing background on why Secondo was right, visit my other blog, The Ex-Americans.  The short answer to his question is yes.

The Secret to Attracting the Ladies

One morning before preschool, my 5YO, 2YO and I were in front of morning TV eating our breakfast.  My 5YO was doing sit-ups (and I use the term loosely) and informed me, he had to next to sit-ups.  I asked him what his preoccupation with fitness was, and he said, "I'm tired of being handsome.  Girls like guys that are strong."

--Thanks to Amy at Little Black Sweats for the submission!  Visit her blog for drool-worthy fashion pix!

The Zinedine Zidane Of the Maternelle

Me:  "How was school today?"

Terzo:  "Oh, not good."

Me:  "What happened?"

Terzo:  "I left the room without asking."

Me:  "What did the teacher do?"

Terzo:  "She gave me a red card."

In Which Secondo Channels Judge Judy: A Scene From the Dinner Table

Secondo:  "At school on Friday we had LENTILS and--"

Me, rudely interrupting:  "X, could you please hand me Quinta's binky?"

Secondo:  "Hey!  I'm SPEAKING!!"

Secondo Finds His People

About 30 seconds after walking into the Grand Hall of Ham at the Foire au Jambon in French Basque Country today, Secondo had his first taste of Bayonne ham, and proclaimed:

"I WANT TO MOVE HERE!!!!"

I don't disagree.  Even under a cloudy sky, our first trip to Bayonne was glorious.  What's not to like about a festival overflowing with paper cones full of the tastiest ham on the planet?

A festival where the wine-drinking begins, by my observation, at about ten in the morning?  In a city that also is famous for its chocolate?  Where Quarta can have all the OMG SHOEZ she can get her feet into?

Where even the trash cans look like sweet, sweet ice cream?

And is right next door to glamorous, gorgeous Biarritz?

Secondo might be on to something here.

Fashion Friday: Mama's Blue Period

The first six months or so after Quarta was born were hard.  Really, really hard.  Hard enough that I found myself on the receiving end of a doctor's order to take two weeks off from work.  TWO WEEKS OFF?  That was something I hadn't done since 2003, and that trip was a between-jobs climb of Mount Kilimanjaro.  In other words, relaxation isn't exactly my strong suit.  But none of my old climbing buddies seemed all that interested in being on the other end of a rope from somebody who was crying every hour, either.

So I tackled the housewifely arts, that is, learning to knit and sew for real, with a vengeance.  I've already posted a few of these projects.  The badly-thought-out raw silk dress, size 3 months (somebody really should have staged an intervention at the fabric shop).  The over-the-top "angel with a split personality" costume for Quarta's first Halloween.

But none of them reflect what was going on inside better than this beautiful, but slightly gloomy, old-fashioned sweater dress.

The pattern comes from Erika Knight's Simple Knits for Cherished Babies, and while Quarta certainly is cherished, whoever decided that these patterns were "simple" should have something bad happen to them.  Preferably involving some kind of mishap with a sharp knitting needle.  The yarn is Crystal Palace Panda Cotton, the softest yarn ever, in Blueberry-Grape.  The guy without whom this heirloom wouldn't have happened is X, who was man enough to take the whole thing to The Knit Shop for help when I got stuck but felt too bad to go out.  I'm not sure if that was more or less humiliating than being sent out for tampons.

I hope I never feel as low again as I did while I was making this dress.  All kids deserve a mama who dreams in oranges and reds and violets and yellows.  But it took a stormy blue period for me to appreciate that.

This Is Why Big Brothers Get A Bad Rap: A Scene From the Yard

Terzo:  "LOOK!  A dandelion!"

[Picks it.]

Secondo:  "Let's BLOW on it.  I'll count to three!  One, two..."

And then Secondo, having hoodwinked Terzo into waiting until the count of "three," blows all the dandelion fuzz right into Terzo's face, with most of it going into Terzo's open mouth and down his throat.

Nice.

Are You Beginning To Sense A Theme?

People who know me in real life are aware that I am not Ms. Spontaneity, I'm not particularly fond of surprises, and I like to have a plan.  I REALLY like to have a plan, and often enjoy making the plan better than participating in the activity itself.  This is why I sit down for a couple of looong evenings every year around this time, to make a nice rigid Summer Fun Plan.  Yes, the kids will probably be describing all of this to a psychiatrist someday.

Anyhow, the planning process this year is even more fun than usual, because it's our first summer in France.  (This is not strictly accurate.  We moved here last July, but spent the first 7 weeks essentially under house arrest at Poulet's place.  The less said about the better, just in case there are family members out there who read English better than I think they do.)  I've been surfing the Web and combing guidebooks until my eyeballs have been pretty much ready to fall out, and have collected a huge list of potential activities, trips, and festivals where the kids will, dammit, HAVE FUN.

The next step is always to sit the non-preverbal kids down and run each item on the list by them for a thumbs-up, thumbs-down, or split decision.  (In that last case, the activity is marked as a solo outing for the interested kid and a parent.)  We went through this part of the process a few mornings ago at breakfast, where I found myself explaining to Secondo and Terzo the concept of a Medieval Festival.

I had Secondo at "jousting."  Terzo, not so much.  Until I went on to explain that there would be ladies in old-fashioned dresses:

Terzo:  "Okay, now I want to go!"

Medieval ladies, you're on notice.