C'est ma vie

The Price of a Plane

One of my favorite things in the world is brocanting. A brocante is basically a street sale where once a year the streets of villages are lined with tables of people selling their old stuff. Basically, one huge yard sale. I usually try to go to one or two each Fall and each
spring and have been known to find toys, antique furniture, vintage books, knitting yarn, leather coats, and lots and lots of clothes for the kids.

Growing up, we didn't have too much money and we would live off of hand me downs and garage sales. I thought this would be enough to completely turn me away from my kids wearing used clothes, but then Etienne's cousin introduced me to brocantes and the adorable things you can find for just pennies and I'm addicted. Sure, we can afford to make a trip to Baby Gap every spring and fall when the kids need new clothes, but I have this unexplainable immense pleasure in bringing home a bag full of a variety of clothes that are recycled and being used again. Maybe it's because I have no budget when going to a brocante and even on no budget, you have a whole winter's wardrobe for 30 euros- the cost of one pair of pants from Baby Gap.

Last weekend, Etienne's mom said that her women's club had a stand at a brocante in the outskirts of Paris if I wanted to stop by. I quickly jumped on the opportunity because Louise needed a couple of summer dresses. At first, I was just planning on taking Louise so that I could actually stop and look at things rather than run after Gab, but then I decided that I could handle two kids and that Gab would just have to be good. So, we set out on our adventure. I could have stayed the whole day looking at people's stuff but knowing that Gab would get very bored, I just focused on finding Louise a couple things. And, as usual I found that one stand that had adorable little girl clothes, including 2 precious dresses, for just pennies. Since I did want to stay a few minutes and look through all the clothes, I was firm with Gab and told him to sit down, which he surprisingly did. The woman was also selling some plastic Barbie plane and let Gab play with it while I looked. Gab also kept telling me 'plane, plane' then turning to the woman and translating 'avion, avion' and really loved that particular plane. I made my purchases but then saw some more stuff that would be cute for Louise's winter wardrobe but I still needed to find a cash machine. So, we left and headed towards my MIL's stand. By this time, Gab was getting a little cranky. There also happen to be lots of toys for sale at these things, and he wanted to stop at every stand and play with the 'cars'. I'm not one to bribe my kids, but I reasoned with him by saying that if he was good, he would get the plane (okay, I really wanted to spend more time at that stand on our way back and the only way I could see fit was if Gab could play with the plane, but how could I let him spend so much time with it and not buy it!) Borrow money from the MIL, head back towards the stand, by this time Gab is dragging his feet and very, very tired after all the walking.

We find the stand again and I am ready to look at some more clothes for Louise when, before even seeing the price of the plane, I say we'll take it and that Gab can play with it while I look. In a brocante, things are dirt cheap. We're talking 2 and 3 euros on average for a regular toy, so I thought this plane would be as such. Then, I see the price tag- 7 euros for a piece of crap! Just a plastic plane that Gab would probably destroy in a matter of days given his track record with toys. I did negociate for 5 euros, but still, I hated getting ripped off and having, in our house, the ugliest plastic Barbie plane in the world. My only consolation was that I got Louise a Baby Dior dress for 3 euros as well as a bunch of other adorable things. But, that plane, it still irks me.

Oh well, that's the price you have to pay for a few minutes of peace. After we got up to leave that stand, we headed towards the car at least 2 miles away. As I tempted to stop and look at other stands, it was impossible and the Gab needing food and a nap took over and it was really time to go. Needless to say, I don't know if this is an adventure we will be doing again anytime soon!

Persistance and Insistance

Those are two concepts we are going to be dealing with a lot lately. Etienne and I have decided not to back down and we want some answers as to why Louise, after being enrolled for a year at the daycare, does not have a place. We pay taxes for the structure of the daycare and yet, impossible to get an appointment with the director to discuss why our daughter does not have a place for next year. It is our right to know their criteria and why they decided not to take her in the daycare. In reality, we know the answer: there are no criteria and the places at the municipal daycare for which we are paying taxes go to friends of the mayor (who, by the way, CAN afford the 1000 dollar per month costs of hiring a nanny or private daycare). So, this means we've decided to write letters, lots of them, to the mayor of our precinct, to the senators, to the deputies, to the mayor of Paris until someone can help us.

And, this is where my regret at speaking fluent French comes in. I HATE insisting. Maybe because I'm not used to it and in the States, we don't really have a culture of being at odds with the system and having to be on the verge of aggression when you contact a member of the administration. In France, you learn from a very young age to question your rights rather than just go along with what everyone tells you, which is a great asset to have in your character, but it's definitely not one I have from little polite Midwestern America where everything goes fairly smoothly and if you complain a little, you usually end up winning. Today, for example, I am to call the director of our neighborhood daycare to ask for an appointment that she'll refuse to give me. And, that means I have to go further by insisting that the minimum she can do is give me an appointment to explain why Louise doesn't have a place in her daycare. Unfortunately, language is not a barrier, it's more my nervousness which is! Etienne says I have to be firm but polite and firm is just not in me. I make my friend Aimee negoticiate at flea markets for me!!!!, which shows how much I hate conflict. But, we have to do this. Etienne and I, since we both are equally responsible for Louise, have divided the work up. I do the 'motherly' stuff by calling the two daycares we are trying to get into, meeting the directors if possible and he is going to deal with all of the politicians by writing letters, meeting the mayor.

Just to give you some statistics: Paris is divided into 20 precincts and each precinct has its own townhall with its own mayor. So, even though the mayor of Paris is from the Socialist Party, our 'quartier chic' is governed by the right conservative party. There are only enough daycare structures THAT WE PAY TAXES FOR to equipe about 20 percent of the actual and factual daycare needs, so of course there is a huge problem with getting a spot in the municipal daycare. Other precincts, like the 5th for example, have a mayor who makes it a political right to daycare for every child in the precinct so he had enough structures built. But, that is rare and most precincts have major problems with meeting childcare needs. So, corruption ensues and it's become so illicit that Etienne and I even question if anyone gets a place in the crèche based on the real criteria rather than being a friend of some politician.

If September rolls around and we still don't have a solution, we are going to have to send Louise to Etienne's mom's until we can find one. Drastic, but that's what we'll have to do.

One Piston Please

And the nightmare begins. Our fight to have a place in the municipal daycare for Louise next year. I can't stress enough how much we NEED this place. Not only for our peace of mind, but also for financial reasons. Being teachers, we cannot afford the 1400 dollar per month private daycare, I can't afford to not work, we can't afford to hire a nanny to come to our apartment, and there are no 'nourrices' or babysitters who take children in their homes even close to where we live because there is only ONE in our sector! One who is allowed to take three kids out of the thousands who live in our arrondissement! What are we going to do? This is a question we are asking ourselves daily this week and basically it all comes down to one thing: Piston.

This beautiful French word seems to pop up almost systematically when you are talking about the French administration. Our friends who tried endlessly to get their daughter into a 'crèche municipale' finally were told by the elected adjunct mayor that they needed a 'piston' to get in. What, do you ask, does this mean? It means the opposite of a system based on fairness and basically, it's a system based on connections. We need to know someone who can secure us a place in the daycare. Someone who knows someone who knows someone at the Mairie, or townhall. My colleague's sister in law was the astrologist for one of the mayors and bam, he had his piston and his daughter had her place in the daycare.

Yesterday I tried hopelessly to go plead my case to the adjunct mayor. But, among the 50 either pregnant or mothers with babies waiting in her corridor, it was useless- she wasn't taking any more appointments for the day. Our only hope is being a 'crèchehugger', that is standing in front of the daycare until they give us a place, which even then I don't think will allow us in, or we need a connection to get us in.

We will take any piston we can get but the problem is finding one because we aren't very connected. If any of you have anyone who can give us an 'in', we'll take it!

Until then, we are considering selling one of our kids to get the money to finance the other's daycare needs. But, I don't think a terrible-twos ridden two and half year old goes for much these days.

Only the Granddaughter of a Dermatologist

Etienne's mom is a retired dermatologist. So of course when she calls us the other day and says "Oh, your darling Louise has gotten some color to her face, we've been outside a lot and I am giving you back one tan little baby who is ready for the swimsuit season" it makes complete and total sense.

The test is over, I am more than glad. We are going to a restaurant tonight to relax one last time before the terrible two come back tomorrow. It was a nice break for us, but I don't think it will be an experience that Etienne's mom will be glad to have again any time soon. On the phone yesterday she said 'I thought having these two kids would be tough, but this, this has been nearly impossible. One is hungry the other one isn't. One takes a nap the other one is awake. One needs a diaper change and 5 minutes later the other one does. I don't know how I did it with 3 kids' Welcome to our lives!

But, we love it, and can't wait to see those guys tomorrow.

Stupidity

You have to be pretty stupid to get a ticket for breaking the speed limit when there's a huge sign saying RADAR AHEAD and everyone in front of you is slamming on their brakes.

Hello, I'm stupid!

And the ticket I got in the mail today proves it!

Feelin the Love

I think that out of all of Etienne's and my family and friends combined, only one person called to wish me good luck on the test this week. That's my fault really since I overly made a big deal of the other teaching test and when I finally succeeded everyone thought it was over and I could move on in my career and have been so non-chalant about this one that you can't expect anyone to make a bigger deal than I do. Well, the truth of the matter and the most ironic thing about the whole situation is that this one is actually, for my long term goals, the more important test of the two! You heard me right, the future, of future careers rests on passing or failing this one test so, no, it ain't over. Luckily, that doesn't have to be this year or even next because passing that other teaching test did allow me to be able to take my time just a little in passing this one. I am, however, giving myself 2 more years because I can't start my doctorate when I'm 50, or even 40 for that matter and gotta move on in my goals. Luckily, however, this year I'm having quite fun taking this test and can allow myself to see what I get on what little I know. Take today, for example:

7 hr Essay in French. You don't know if it will be History or Literature. Since the past two years the essay has been in History, silly me thought this year it will be in Lit. which was way to my advantage because, well, quite frankly from my conversation with Etienne yesterday I didn't know anything about the topic of Devolution and decided that if by some weird fluke they put History for yet a third year in a row (they've NEVER done that) then I was going to get up and leave because I really didn't know anything. Guess what the Essay was? Yep! Devolution in the UK! My first thought was to leave when you are allowed to, after 2 and a half hours. Then, I started making an outline and from the little I knew, I got 10 pages and stayed for 6 of the 7 hours. With that, I can't get much worse than I did last year so I don't feel as bad. Still won't pass, but at least it will allow me to see how I can do not knowing much.

Oh, and don't bother wishing me good luck after the fact because A/ Luck really isn't a part of it and I know that I should have worked much harder and B/ It's after the fact.

My Fate is Sealed

Here is how a conversation with Etienne went this morning:

E: "So, you know who Gordon Brown is, right?"
Me: "Um, yeah, I think he's the exchequer something in the UK"
E: "Yeah, that would be the Chancellor of the exchequer, and why is he important?"
Me: "Um, just a second, let me look at my notes... oh, I can't find his name"
E: "He's going to replace Tony Blair AND he's a Scot which is an important factor for the Devolution issue. You need to know these things, I don't see how you can not know this and go into that test tomorrow."

Hello, I am a dumb American ignorant of world politics, even ignorant of what goes on in my own country, and should not be trusted to be able to learn about such a complex subject as British politics. At least Lewis and Clark are more humbling as a subject.

I am so going to fail....

Knitted Gifts

It's a beautiful day. I feel like going outside and reading for my own pleasure and NOT about Devolution. But, alas, such is my fate today and it would be stupid to waste these last few precious hours. But, before I get to it, let me just talk about something that has been on my mind to post for awhile, and that is knitted gifts.

In my knitting books, you read never to give non-knitters a knitted gift you made because they just don't understand the work that goes into them. But, I tend to ignore that advice because I like making gifts. However, I would like to underline a few things for my friends and family members who might be susceptible to receiving a knitted gift from me. Sometimes, people look at me, especially my MIL and SIL, like my little knitted fancies are just that- little whims equivalent to Gab's aluminum foil stars, Playdoh Christmas ornaments, and his picture with glitter stuck on a piece of paper that he brings home from the daycare. Like knitting is this cute thing I do on the side and 'oh how cute' that I'm knitting Louise's baptism booties rather than 'she's knitting a family heirloom'. I admit, my finished knitted objects are not professional looking and have their flaws, but they are made with love and love for something that I like to do. Just so you know, last night it took me 2 hours to knit 3 inches of the front of a sweater for Gab. So, you can imagine the time it takes to make the whole sweater. And, there is also a misconception that making gifts is the easy way out because it's cheaper. Let's break that myth right now. Yarn is not cheap and if you get a gift from me, most likely, it cost more in time and money than going out to buy something.

When I told Etienne the other day that I need to quickly knit something for the sister of Gab's godfather who is going to have her baby in May he said 'Don't bother, you should only reserve knitted things for your close family and friends because hand knits are special' Yes, finally a non-knitter who understands.

My point has been diffused- no complaints if your sweater is not from the Gap! And, if you don't get a knitted item from me, it's not because I don't love you- I just don't have time!

Poor Little Lou

This pic doesn't even look like Louise in all of her sadness to be at Mamie's! Parents always say that their kids never cry but they really do. Well, for anyone who has spent time with us and Louise, you know that our little girl really doesn't cry, even when her big brother is pouring water over her head in the bath or throwing cars at her. In fact, she is a rather resilient girl- except when we are not there! Mamie called today asking if we could come and get Louise on Tuesday when I start the test. Not just because L is upset but also because of all the work those kids are between the meals, diaper changes, etc... If she just had Gab, things would be easier. But, Etienne told her that it would really help if both of the kids could just stick it out for another 5 days. It's true that I admit breaks like this from the kids are nice once in awhile, but then I look at this pic of poor little Lou and just want to go get her!

Study Marathon

Although the following posts look like a series of procrastination sketches, let me tell you about yesterday. From 11 am to 8:30 pm I was in the books, and hard, with only one 30 min. eye rest break (okay, a nap), a 30 min. lunch break, and a 30 min. break in the afternoon. When I called it quits for the evening, that bath felt well deserved, I poured a glass of wine, turned on a really mindless movie, got out the knitting needles and really, for the first time in months, felt like I deserved all of that relaxing and indulgence after all that hard work. (I'm weird like that and feel extremely, extremely guilty about indulging in reading for pleasure, knitting, watching movies if I haven't gotten a good amount of studying done in a day, and that his been my life for the past 5 years. Unfortunately, the past 4 months I have pretty much spent feeling guilty just because I hadn't studied at all and finally, yesterday, I felt good about studying, why couldn't this have come sooner?)

This morning, howevever, was a different story. I woke up as if my whole body had run a mararthon- my back ached, my head ached and the prospect of another day of intense studying just really didn't sound good. It started out well for about 4 hours, then it all went downhill. Around 6, I just couldn't learn anymore and I came to the conclusion that Etienne accidently slept in one year and got a zero one year for not having read the literary work and thus not being able to write anything- in my case, at least I think I could write something and if I can't, well, it's not the end of the world. I'll review tomorrow a little bit and am meeting with a fellow student to review tomorrow afteroon and then, well, I'll give the rest to Fate's hands. I really don't feel like going to take this test, but at least at the end of next week, it will be over with and I can start focusing on next year.