AliThinks

Late, But In Earnest

I look pretty young, but I'm just backdated, yeah. And so is this blog entry.

An evening at a local Cajun joint turned out to be not-such-a-good-idea on this Mardi Gras. So we went to the local French resto for all-you-can-eat mussels. We ran into our friend Mo, which was cool, since she doesn't actually live in Lexington.

On our return home, we watched men's figure skating, then I hung out with C. in her room for a while, then read another chapter of the first Percy Jackson book to T.

It was a good evening. Yep.

Dangit

I have 50 minutes to post a blog entry. GAH! It was a busy day, full of entertaining characters at the store, including one woman who called it Rump Arena. I got my kids hooked on a couple of books: Hatchet for my son and Night World No. 1 for my daughter.

Some other thoughts:

• The commercial for Shutter Island scares the bejeezus out of me, yet part of me wants to see the film.
• Google Buzz seems like a lot of extra noise to me right now. You?
• All the cats are sleeping. It's like they know something I don't.
• Meh. That's all I got.

Day 4

And I almost forgot to write something here! 

The big news is that my kids are here for their vacances de février, or winter break. Their dad and I have been switching around breaks, which has been really nice, and if we're counting, I'm actually ahead. One perk is that the kids are experiencing other seasons here than "summer" and "Christmas," something they never got to do before. They also get to see more day-to-day "normal" stuff. Not that Summer and Christmas aren't normal, but they're special times. 

Everyone's asleep but me. Miles Davis is on the radio. The cats are padding around, trying to figure out what's going on. (It takes them a day or two to acclimate to the kids' presence, and equally as long to adjust to their absence.)

Tonight I watched two TV shows for the first time: Ghost Whisperer (in syndication) and Bones. I never watched GW because I don't much like the star of the show (for no good reason. I just don't like her). I never watched Bones because...I don't know. We don't watch much TV. I really, really enjoyed it, though. I also liked the character, Temperance Brennan, because I've read Kathy Reichs's books about her. Woo-hoo for that!

OH, but wait! The TV character was apparently based on Kathy Reichs herself, not the Tempe Brennan of her books. Hmmm...interesting.

Anyway. These are shows my kids watch in France. It was cool to hear my daughter say things like "Oh, I so love her voice," because they see a dubbed version over there. 

And so it goes on a Thursday night here in Ali-land.

Happy Birthday, Ma Belle

Today's my daughter's 14th birthday. She's on her way home from a class trip to Barcelona right now, so I won't get to sing to her until tomorrow.

Grumpy And The Chatterbox

Today I talked to my kids. Grumpy Son is bouding me (pardon my franglais) because he doesn't want to come to Lexington. So we spoke for about 10 seconds, then he got his sister.

"[Sister!] Ramène ta fraise!" (This literally means "Bring back your strawberry," but in this case, it means "Come here!" I love French.)

Then Chattery Daughter talked to me for half an hour. This was good, because lately our conversations have been short. I found out why, though: I've been calling during Star Academy. Silly me.

Laughing

I called my kids today. Neither seemed too interested in talking to me, so I asked my son:

"You don't want to talk right now?"

And he said, "No, Mom. I don't have time to talk right now."

There was a football* game happening in the cul-de-sac, see.

*soccer

This Is What Happens When Boys Invade Girls' Night.

This Is What Happens , originally uploaded by Alison.

Thank You, Jamie!

A month or so ago I sent an e-mail to the Lexington Herald Leader's Culture Writer, Jamie Gumbrecht, informing her of the threat to internet radio. She thanked me and told me she'd be out of town, but that she'd keep an eye on the issue.

Yesterday I e-mailed her again, after I read that the Copyright Ruling Board had rejected webcasters' appeal for a hearing. Today Jamie wrote a blog entry about the issue, and she mentioned MOI! [insert grin]

So thank you, Jamie, for helping spread the word.

                                                       *****

In other news, I'm finding it hard to feel anything about what happened at Virginia Tech yesterday. I think it's a self-preservation mechanism. Columbine shook me hard. This? I can't let it; as it is, I'm hanging on by a hair.

To end on a happier note, twelve years ago today I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. She's still beautiful and healthy, but she's growing up fast. 

Happy Birthday, ma belle.

A Pre-Internet Pregnancy*

Before the existence of parenting websites and mommyblogs, we had to cope with our pregnancies the hard way. Motherless and in a foreign country, I read What to Expect When You're Expecting and wrote in my journal during my first pregnancy. I was the first of my family or friends to have a child, and boy, was I clueless. It all worked out, of course. I had a healthy baby girl three months before I turned 25.

For my second pregnancy, not only was I more experienced, but I was also fluent enough in French to feel comfortable reading parenting magazines. My favorite was famili, and I bought it every month. One of the rubrics I enjoyed was "La Future Maman du Mois," which profiled a different woman every month.

I started thinking about all this recently because at least three of my "Lost In Francelation" bloggers are pregnant. Riana, Aimee, and Deb are all expecting their first child. These future mamans have an advantage I didn't: a built-in support system via the internet. I think it's wonderful that they are able to tap into the rich source that is the interwebosphere, and that they are blogging about their pregnancies. Oh! If I'd only had a blog when I was expecting. (Sample entry from my journal: March 31, 1995. I can't believe I'm going to have a baby! Here I am with my huge belly, two weeks from my due date, and I just can't fathom the fact that a real live baby is going to come out of me. I know it's in there, heck, I can feel it moving! But it's a little person and it will grow up to be a big person and I made it! With some help from J, of course.)

But I digress. So I've been thinking about these three American bloggers in France and how lucky they are. And I got to thinking about how I dealt with being pregnant, eons ago. I thought of famili magazine, and how I sent my photo and a description in to the magazine. I thought of the phone call I received from Anne Wieme-Dufour, inviting me to be a Future Maman du Mois. I thought of that November Wednesday that I spent in Paris, being dorlotée by famili. I thought of that March day in 1998, when (with my baby son in his sling) I bought famili and opened it to this page:

Creative Little So-andSos

Last night I was in bed by 10:30, asleep by 11. And guess who had a "party" and stayed up way past their bedtime?

My kids, bien sûr. Sneaky little suckers they are, too. The only reason I know they were up late is because Allan heard a THUMP around 2:00.

Well, there's also the fact that they slept until noon. That, and the magic marker mustache-n-brows that my daughter was sporting as she ate her brunch.

Lucky

   

    Click it. You won't be sorry.

Quote(s) Of The Day

Both the kids had cereal for breakfast this morning, albeit at different times. I handed them the gallon jug of skim milk without thinking too much about it.

The 8-year old said "Mom! Who put water in the milk?"

Later, the 11-year old said "Mom, why is the milk transpaaarent?"

Rock On, Sister

Yesterday the four of us were walking around the Arboretum. Suddenly my daughter said to me, "Hey mom, can we go to Old Navy today?" She made her puppy-eyes, praying-hands, quivering-lower-lip face at me. And that, of course, made me laugh.

It's no hardship for me to go to Old Navy. Nope, no hardship at all. And the kids need some new clothes. Their suitcase was light; the packing job had been hasty and not necessarily well-thought out. Besides, my children, they grow like weeds.

So I asked my 11-year old daughter: what do you need?

Her reply: everything.

Then she elaborated with a long list of apparel. Again, I had to laugh. But I couldn't believe that, when faced with the rainbow of flip-flops, she didn't see any that she liked.

We had to go to Target for those.

What Is Up

Like Ally Bean, I don't have anything to say.

Well, that's not exactly true. I do have things to say, but it's more like Announcements To The Internet. I'll spare you another bulleted list, and just tell you what's going on.

Tomorrow evening I'm leaving for France. I'm spending the weekend with friends, and on Tuesday (while all you Amurrican readers are preparing your holiday barbecues), I'll pick up my kids after their last day of school (yes, you read that right: July 4th = last day of school in France this year; please, shoot me now).

The three of us will fly back to the States the next day, and we'll have a month together. My expectations are high. I don't know how else to put it.

Suffice it to say that my arms ache for my children. I won't even mention my heart.

Roque-n-Role

Just some smidgens this evening.

Laughing:  At Alexandre, a 6th-grader I called up to the board.  He actually sniffed the whiteboard marker I gave him, as if to test to see if it had a buzz-giving odor. 

Wondering:   If English textbooks will ever stop using the word "pussycat."  Do English people really say that?  This morning I almost said "J'ai une chatte" with my 8th graders.  Chatte is a slang term for -- yep -- p/ussy.   They snickered.  It was kind of hard not to laugh.  But then if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?  Aside from marker-sniffing 11-year olds, of course.

Thinking:  Teaching six hours in one day is tiring. 

Proud:  Of my own children.  My daughter is in the middle of evaluations, and she got some grades today.  The French grade out of 20, and in math she has 20, 19, and 15.  (Average is 10, of course).  In history she got 20/20. 

I just had to save the best for last. 

And Now For Something Completely Different

So I live in this small town now.  It's a medieval town, and all around you can see traces of the past.  Not 100 yards from my front door sits a castle keep that was built in the 12th century, according to the town's website. 

This afternoon I went up to the top of the keep with my kids and their dad.  It was a way to get out of my apartment, let the kids get some air, and continue discussing things with my ex.  I took my camera.  Here are some photos, which are probably the most constructive thing I got out of the afternoon.  Besides getting my precious children back. 

Now I Know Why I Never Take My Kids Out To Dinner

Earlier this evening, at a local brasserie, Le Français, the following exchange occured: 

My daughter (imitating an episode of SpongeBob Square Pants):  "We're in a five-star restaurant." 

Me, scornfully, and oblivious to the cultural reference: "We are NOT in a five-star restaurant."

My daughter, in a you-better-believe-it voice: "That's right, because I farted." 

I Can't Believe How Quiet It Is

Now that the Evil Spawn have gone off with their "Ama".

I might just have to crank up some AC/DC. 

A Few More Thoughts On Children And Parenting

Today I spent THE ENTIRE DAY WITH MY KIDS.  They don't have school on Wednesdays.  Although the third Harry Potter movie came out today, we didn't go see it; I wasn't up to braving the crowds.  I'll take C. this weekend, and maybe T., but I'm not sure.  He's only 6.  Well, 6 1/2. 

We spent the day at home, and I must admit I had my own agenda.  I hadn't planned any activities other than what I myself wanted to get done, so my children were left to their own devices.  As in, they had to find stuff to do.  C. wanted me to make a treasure hunt, but I didn't even do that.  I did teach them about More Cowbell, because they're American too, by gum, and what the heck, the video lasts five minutes so by the time they tired of watching it we'd killed a good 20 minutes.

It started at lunch:  C. didn't want to finish her sandwich.  I told her she'd better not tell me she was hungry before four o'clock.  At 2 o'clock she started, but only because she knew it would piss me off. 

A few minutes later the neighbor, Sarah, came over to see the kittens.  Sarah's almost 15.  The kids went back to her house with her, and they stayed there for a good hour and a half, so that was cool.  I got to go for a walk by myself while they were gone.  Did six to eight laps around the track (I don't know many I did. I lost count between laps three and four.  I must have a problem getting from three to four because in college I could never remember whether I'd drunk three or four beers.  That didn't stop me from filling my cup at the keg, of course.  Now that I'm almost threety-four, I don't sweat that kind of stuff anymore.  Six to eight laps?  Let's just call it 3K) and so that was -- I think -- the high point of my day. 

Getting back to the kids.  I collected them from across the street, and sat down at the computer to check a few things, and they were ALL OVER ME.  Like I couldn't have two uninterrupted minutes.  After a bit, they got involved in something, and I finished some chores, and it got to be bath time, and I asked them to clean up their mess.  And I had to repeat my request three or four times. 

This is the weak spot.  Yesterday I may have been extolling our parenting skills, but we do have messy tendencies and have been largely unsuccessful in teaching our children NOT to be like us.  The whole "MOM IS NOT A MAID" thing hasn't sunk in either.  So C. started acting like the teenager that oh-God-I-hope-she-won't-become, making lots of noise, both verbally and physically.  By that I mean she slammed a few things around while cleaning up her books and pencils and paper.  I refrained from smacking her little bum. 

While the kids were in the tub I reflected on my attitude: low tolerance.  Low tolerance.  I love my children so very much, I'm so proud of them, and I'm mostly SO lucky to have them. But I am starting to have very little patience with the little nagging kid things.  Mommy, can you get my clothes?  Mom, come here.  Mom, T. hit me!  Not to mention the physical: the grabbing, the hanging on, the tugging, the love pats on the head, the in-my-face kid breath.  (I'll never tire of the back scratching, though). 

So am I a bad mother for wanting to be Alison first and Mom second?  Should I feel guilty for putting myself first?  (Because, to be honest, I don't feel that guilty about it). 

Questions which have no real answers.  I just need to go with the flow, with my flow.  What I really think is that if I don't think about Number One first, I won't be able to cope with all the rest. 

Feeling:  better now that I've written all that down.

Mood Mood Mood

So today was a non-DIY day in this household. It still took us a long time to get out and about. The kids and I managed a quick shopping trip before lunch, then I had my delicious 90-minute nap. J had gone to work for a bit, so the kids were very sweet because they let me sleep. J called from work and said "Let's go somewhere when I get back". The kids and I bandied about a couple of ideas, and T came up with the idea of going to the Museum Of Natural History. By the time J got back it was 5:00, and the Museum was closed. So we all went for a walk at the sports complex near our house. The kids took their scooters, but the walk didn't last long: C's scooter lost a wheel and she banged a big sore scab on her knee. She and I came home and I cleaned up her boo-boo, and we went back to the stade. J and T were about to come home, so T gave C his scooter, and she and I went for a spin. She was feeling a little down, a little unlucky, so I suggested we go out. To town or to the store or something. After we got in the car, I asked if she would like to go to the gift shop at the Aquarium. (Free parking, less traffic, all good.) So we went, and spent a good half hour browsing. Talking about stuff. The place was packed.

C decided she wanted to buy a little glass turtle with part of her allowance and birthday money. Then we looked in another glass case, and I saw the mood rings. And I immediately decided I had to have one. And at 3.80€, how could I not? In fact, we both got one. Mine's an oval shape and hers is a heart. We also picked up a little wooden tooth box for T, who lost his first baby one last night. After we left the Aquarium, C and I compared ring colors, and checked the little guide that came with the rings. It was chilly out, but our ring colors seemed to reflect our moods. Once we got in the car, they changed again. They were never yellow or black, which both mean anxious, nervous, or tired. C's got a bit green, which means unstressed. We compared some more as we picked up a few things at the store. Since we've been back at the house my mood ring hasn't budged one bit. It actually looks kind of cool, even if it looks like it's worth about 50 cents. I'm not going to tell you what color it is. Just know that it's good, very good.

And my daughter and I bonded. That's the best part.