You Don't Get To Be This Absent-Minded Unless You Actually Are a Professor: A Scene From the Phone

X was gone all day yesterday.  Before he left, as is my habit, I took the girls upstairs to watch Caillou on YouTube so that they wouldn't freak out when all the boys went out the door.  He wasn't scheduled to return until about 9pm, which means that I had to walk about a mile, uphill, to the maternelle to pick up the boys after school.  And then walk back.  And pick up a whole bunch of groceries on the way.  Not a huge deal, and it's good exercise.  Or so, I thought, until I went to get the double stroller ready.

Me, on my despised cell phone for the first time in about a month:  "X."

X:  "Hey, how's it going?"

Me:  "So, is the car feeling a little heavier than usual?  You know, with the double stroller still sitting in the back?"

X:  "Damn, I meant to take that out last night."

Me:  "And you have the umbrella stroller too?"

X:  [Crickets.]

Me:  "And the sling, so I can't even leave extremely early, make Quarta walk the entire way, and carry Quinta?"

X:  [Crickets.]

Me:  "And my wallet?"

The girls and I were the envy of the maternelle when I rolled up with Quarta in a filthy, rickety single stroller that I found in the attic, and Quinta riding in the neoprene front carrier that I use to take her to the pool.

ETA:  Six hours later, I found the wallet.  On top of the microwave.  Until I get an apology for the stroller fiasco, though, I'mma not be apologizing either.

Secondo, Lord of the Flies: A Scene From the Yard

While our American friends commemorate Memorial Day, here in France we also have a three-day weekend in celebration of Pentecost.  Well, it probably seems like a celebration if you don't have four small kids fighting like cats in a bag.  Fortunately, the weather has been relatively nice, allowing me to send them "OUTSIDE TO PLAY!!!!" whenever the decibel level hits an arbitrarily determined level.  Until I heard this:

Quarta:  "AIEEEEE!!!!!"

X:  "QU'EST-CE QUI SE PASSE????"  ["What the hell is going on?"]

Terzo:  "Secondo did it!"

Me:  "Okay, I want an answer right now.  What are you guys doing?"

Secondo:  "We're just playing soccer!"

After bringing the gradually calming down Quarta inside, I asked X if he could figure out what was going on.  He informed me that the boys -- led by Secondo -- were kicking soccer balls, with Quarta as the target.

Because Quarta was unhurt and at that point no longer upset, I started to laugh.

X:  "What's so funny?  That was awful."

Me:  "I forgot for a second that you were a youngest child.  I was the oldest--my memories are different."

Sorry, Sorella.

See What I Have to Put Up With?

Please rescue me from Mommy and her scary CHEETAH NAILS.  Oh, and please send a pallet of that delicious strained pumpkin.  NOM NOM NOM.

Fashion Friday: I Chose It Myself! (Part II)

Hanna Andersson jammies?  Check.

Backwards?  Check.

Rain boots for stomping?  Check.

On the wrong feet?  Check.

With the slogan "HAMSTER FEVER" (bought in France!) on the sides?  Check.

French ladies are so fashionable!!!!!

I Don't Know Where She Got That Idea: A Scene From My Purse

Quarta had a heck of a day today.  She got to look ridiculous in her leopard-print dress (which she later accessorized with pink and purple rain boots) for a trip to Bordeaux.  She got to eat lunch in a restaurant.  When we returned to our village, she got an ice cream cone all to herself.

And then the ice cream was gone.  After turning my back for a split second to throw away the napkin, I turned back to find her diving, head first, into my purse.

Me:  "Quarta, what are you doing in my purse?"

Quarta:  "CHOCOLAT!!!!!!!"

Why in the world would she think that???  At least I'm not hiding chocolate under my pillow.  Like some grandmothers I know.

The Penalty Box: A Tale of Filial Solidarity

My mother waited nearly four decades for Quarta to be born, because revenge, like a fine wine, only improves with age.  That is to say, Quarta is smart, charming, cute -- and a Tiny Terror who is going through a screaming phase.  The same one that I went through back in the day.

Because I have a lot less patience than my mom did, Quarta has recently become acquainted with the wonderful world of the Time-Out Step, where she goes (in theory) every time she screams.  OH, THE DRAMA.  It's kind-of almost not worth it, because once she's on that step, she figures she might as well double down. I was beginning to think that this whole "time out" thing had been a bust.

Until today when another child who shall remain nameless, Terzo, talked back to me.  I gave him The Look (which totally does not work on him the way it worked on me) and snarled, "Okay, TIME OUT."  At which point Quarta, who had been watching the whole thing, walked herself over to the Time-Out Step and sat herself right down.

So either she actually has been paying attention, or we've got a toddler with a raging case of codependency on our hands.  Time to set up that therapy fund.

Why Can't They All Be Like This?

So tomorrow, May 23, is the festival day for Secondo's "saint."  I'm not sure whether this is really A Thing in France generally, but in our family, the saint-of-the-day's namesake generally gets some kind of a small treat.  Secondo apparently was under the (mistaken) impression that he would be able to choose the treat:

X:  "Tomorrow is St. Secondo's day!  Isn't that exciting?"

Secondo:  "YES!  What do I get?"

X, slightly taken aback:  "Well, there might be a small treat involved."

Secondo:  "Can I sleep in?"

Me:  "Hey, if you can get your brother and sisters on board with that plan?  I am all for it."

Mommy's Little Delicate Flower: Or, Kids Are So Honest (Part III)

A scene from the living room.  The kids all just had baths.  One would think that they could all stay clean for ten minutes or so.  Yet for some odd reason, there is an apparently diaper-related odor, indicating that it's time for us to play yet another round of my least-favorite game, "What's That Smell?"

X:  "Okay, who still smells bad?"

Quarta:  "MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Girl-On-Girl Crime: A Scene From the Car

The scene:  It's Ponts de Mai, which apparently is French for "a long weekend every day this month."  Thanks to a badly planned childcare patch for my visa renewal appointment involving taking the kids to Poulet's house, said kids ended up attending no days of school this week.  In order not to have this situation result in five straight days of cabin fever ending in the kids probably killing each other, we set up little field trips for each day.  X chose yesterday's outing, which was a trip to the brocante.  He loves these French flea markets; I think that "brocante" is French for "a lot of broken crap that is NOT coming into my house."  By the time we headed home, everybody was kind of cranky and tired.

Quinta:  "AIEEEEEE!!!!!"

Me:  "Okay, what the hell is going on back there?"

Secondo:  "Quarta STOLE Quinta's binky, Mom!"

Me, to X:  "We need to put a stop to this crap right now.  One day she's stealing a binky, the next thing you know she's running off with the President of France." 

Mommy's Little Political Analyst: A Scene From Newly Socialist France

The boys have just returned from Easter vacation with Poulet, whose feelings about the French presidential election are so strong that she threatened to leave the country if socialist Francois Hollande beat Sarkozy.  Because I am still kind of in the honeymoon phase of this whole emigration thing, and am not eligible to vote anyway, I don't have much of a dog in the fight.  But was curious to hear about whether Poulet was able to convince the kids to join the UMP.  This scene took place five minutes before the news embargo lifted and Hollande's victory was announced:

Me:  "So, boys, do you like Sarkozy or Hollande better?"

Secondo:  "Sarkozy!"

Terzo:  "Hollande!"

Me:  "Terzo, why do you like Hollande better?"

Terzo:  "Because Sarkozy can't do the job."

Me, with a "WTF" look on my face:  "Uh, where did you hear that?"

Terzo:  "Hollande said so on the TV."