C'est ma vie

4 months

4 months, originally uploaded by afoos.

I almost forgot to update for Alice's 4 months!

She's growing so fast- this little size 6 month dress fits her just perfectly now. At her last appointment she weighed 6 kg (about 13 lbs) and measured 61 cm (24 inches).

We still have some dousing people in spit up issues and I do believe her teeth are causing bouts of incessant crying during the day, but her fussiness has subsided in general and she is all together a well rounded little lass.

Now, if I could just get her to sleep through the night, that would be another story...

As far as my post-pregnancy health, well, the nose tumor looks like it's making its appearance again as well as very frequent nose bleeds and the doc thinks it might actually have something to do with the pregnancy, some type of pregnancy granuloma or something and I need to make another appt. with the ear-nose-and throat guy and it needs to be removed again. I'm still tired, but I've just learned to live on few hours of sleep a night. It has definitely been harder recovering from this pregnancy and birth, still have some weight to lose, still have a ways to go before I feel 'normal' again, and some days the postpartum emotions are still flying. With all the nose problems, which might involve a minor surgery this time, and general feeling of malaise, my doc decided that it would be best for me to not go back to work for the 2 weeks that are left of school, so he gave me an extension to my maternity leave and I won't be going back to work until September.

When it rains...

After the ER, originally uploaded by afoos.

it pours blood around these parts.


Every Saturday morning, it seems like the same old routine. Breakfast and then lazying around the apartment the whole morning. This usually entails letting the kids watch a few episodes of Dora or Spongebob while I put away laundry, load the dishwasher, or do some other random insipidly banal chore around the house (yes, E is asleep during this time- whack!). During this time, I am used to screams and yells and cries. Usually, as soon as I leave the room, one hits the other then there's a WWIII nuclear meltdown and drama ensues, as if the world is going to end.

Today I was casually putting away clothes in the kids' room, E was, guess where? on his computer and Louise and Gab were playing with a balloon in the kitchen/living room, since it's all one big area. We were getting ready to head out to the Marché St. Pierre to get some supplies so that I can launch a new sewing project and I just wanted to get those chores done so that during naptime I could relax a little. All of the sudden, I hear the nuclear meltdown. It's usually Louise because Gab hit her or took a toy or some other silly reason and every time, you'd think she was getting her arm amputated or something by the sound of it, but this time, that wasn't far from the truth. So, I say to Etienne "What is it this time? I swear you can never leave them alone for 5 min. without them fighting or pushing each other." So, I got out into the kitchen saying "What is it this time? Mommy was busy and has better things to do than regulate brother and sister fights, this better be good." Louise said Gab pushed her and she had a boo boo. Usually, when she says that, it's nothing, so I proceeded to scold Gab and tell him not to push his sister (he's heard that one a thousand times). Then, I saw it, the blood on the floor. Now, anytime I see blood, this is my reaction:

"Etienne, there's blood, come."

Because I don't deal with blood or the source it comes from. I picked up Louise and thrust her into E's arms, still not knowing what really happened or where the blood was coming from. Then, I saw the trail of blood and felt my knees buckle. E said, "OMG, she has a huge, 3 cm wide open gash in her leg, this is serious, we need to take her to the ER." And I am still panicking and feel my eyes blacking out. E said "We need to disinfect it and put pressure on it, get some gauze and something to clean the wound" and I am almost on the floor blacked out. Then I miraculously got it together because I remembered that E couldn't handle Louise plus a screaming Alice plus a curious Gab alone. I got some gauze and disinfectant and took over, just abstracting myself from the wound and the streams of blood running down Louise's leg- just held the gauze on there and put pressure to stop the bleeding. E called the emergency services because at the time, we were afraid to move Louise because of all the blood, but then it almost completely stopped bleeding while he was on the phone and we decided that he could just take her himself. The cutest thing was Louise, as I was washing the blood off her leg with a wash cloth (and there was lots of it, I was half closing my eyes and thinking about flowers and roses as I was doing it), she kept saying "Oh, thank you, Mama."

A couple hours later, Louise has 6 stitches and a bandage wrapped around her leg. They were almost afraid they would have to operate because glass wounds are complicated and sometimes they need to explore the wound more to see if there aren't any tiny glass shards stuck in there (oh, I might as well stop right there and say how she actually got cut- yep, me again, I told you I'm an awful mother- last night I broke a glass putting it into the dishwasher and put the shards in a trash bag on the kitchen floor and was going to take out the rest of the trash with it but hadn't gotten around to it this morning, Louise fell on it playing with her balloon or Gab pushed her and she fell or something, I never quite got the whole story, anyway, maybe I should put a link to child services on my sidebar!) We have to go back tomorrow morning to redress the bandage and then again on Tuesday for the doc to take a look. Stitches out in 15 days and she just has to be careful about the activities she does until then.

When E left, I had the job of cleaning up the floor, which had a huge trail of blood. I had been meaning to get around to mopping the floors, no better occasion than today.

Friday night Festivities

Caterpillar rollercoaster, originally uploaded by afoos.

Last night, we picked the kids up from school and partook in a little random outing for Friday night. We headed to the Bois de Vincennes to take them to the annual Foire du Trone, which is the closest thing to an amusement park they will ever get when they're in our hands.

Picnic, funnel cakes, a few rides, some depressed ride operators with tattoos all over their body who look like they want to commit suicide, and two very enthralled kids later, a good time was had by all. I was disappointed that they didn't want to go in the haunted house with me- Gab said "No, you can go by yourself." And, I was disappointed to not have done some more rides myself, but at 3 euros a head for most of the rides, let's leave it up to the kids.

Heard, in the car this morning

We had gone over 'the plan' about ten thousand times. I had a 'get rid of the baby fat' (a.k.a abs of steel) session with the physical therapist (kiné) this morning and I was to come promptly back to the apartment and pick up the baby stealer and Alice to take baby stealer to the airport. She was worried about this whole thing since the day she got here because her plane left at 12:15 and she had to be there at 11:45. People, we live 15 min. from Orly airport, and in traffic 30. Both E and I reassured her several times that it would be fine, so she finally gave in to the idea.

When I came home from the physical therapist, at 10:30 sharp, this is our conversation:

As I open the door,

BS (baby stealer): We are late, I will never make it to the airport on time, I need to call the airlines.

Me: Calm down, it's only 10:30, you said you didn't need to be there until 11:45, we have plenty of time.

BS: I just don't think we'll make it.

Me: You should have told me this on Friday when I offered to change my (abs of steel) appointment if you were so worried. Trust me, we'll make it in time, it's only 15 min. away.

5 min. later in the car

BS (incessently): Oh, we're going to miss my flight, what will I do? We should have left earlier.

Me (pointing to the sign on the ring road that says 9 minutes to the airport): Look, we'll be there before 11, plenty of time since you don't have to be there until 11:45.

BS: Nope, that's too late, I've missed my flight.

This conversation continues the whole of our short 10 minutes to the airport from that point, with me pointing to the clock, with debate about the flight already having departed, with me confused because I don't understand why the flight would have departed if it was supposed to leave at noon. Me, again, showing her the clock in the car and trying to reassure her that we had plenty of time. She would hear nothing of it, to her, we were late and the flight had already left.

Finally, when we reach the terminal and she gets out her cell to call her husband to let him know that she has missed her flight,

BS: Oh, my cell says 11 and I'm not supposed to be here until 11:45, no need to have worried.

The Baby Stealer

Alice's baptism weekend has come and gone, and I survived and we had a lovely time, kids were on their best behavior etc..., pics to come, but the most annoying aspect of this weekend is still lingering at our apartment as we speak: the baby stealer.

Etienne's mom has a cousin who annoys everyone. She annoys Etienne as well, but he is much more tolerant. I warned him that after more than 24 hours with her, my nasty side was going to come out, and it did- she has made several remarks to both E and his mom that I'm giving her the cold shoulder and I will do none other than fess up to the fact that I am, indeed, not being very cordial to her. She is just so annoying. Especially to the mother species, like myself.

I had never understood E's sister who didn't want to be around this infamous cousin. She was nice and friendly enough to me, and then, I got the picture when we had kids of our own. And I made E get the picture real fast because there was no way after spending 3 days with her when Gab was 8 months old that I was going to have spending another length of time with her, ever again and especially in the presence of my kids.

Let's see, Gab incidents:

At 8 months old she bought him some baby food that was to be given to 18 month olds (it said so on the box because it had chunks of non-pureed meat and pasta that smaller babies could choke on). When I didn't give it to Gab (I had brought his food, like I always do with all of my babies when we go somewhere), she got very upset saying that I didn't know what was best for my child.

During the same trip, when Gab got up at 8 in the morning and I came out of the room, she literally jumped out of her chair and grabbed him from me. Still naive to her annoyance factor (and that grabbing innocent babies from mothers' arms would become her trademark), I said what the heck, she wants to take him while I can sleep a couple more hours, okay, fine. I find out that 2 hours later, she refed him a bottle that had been sitting out the whole night. First of all, you don't refeed a baby every 2 hours and secondly, NOT a bottle from the night before. I was livid.

She put Gab in a wooden child's chair, when he couldn't even sit up by himself, and of course he fell, I could see it from a mile away. The kicker is that she told E's mom that we put Gab in the chair at such a young age and that we were irresponsible parents! 

She insisted on pushing Gab in his stroller, on her very wobbly legs, alongside a cliff.

But, this was only the beginning of the annoyance, I was still a little naive.

With Louise:

She grabbed Louise out of my arms to hold her and on another occasion tore the stroller away from my hands to push it. You have to know that this cousin doesn't walk very well and is very unstable and has fallen several times, so crossing a Parisian street with a wobbly cousin pushing her made me a little nervous for my daughter- MY daughter I might reiterate.

The day after Louise's baptism, I was so tired that I took Louise upstairs at E's mom's and slept. We ended up sleeping through her normal feeding time (she was 8 months old) and this cousin made remarks to the whole family about my inability to be responsible for my daughter's feeding time.

She told E's mom that I didn't know how to choose a stroller (Louise was in a Maclaren) and that Louise, who was 8 months old, was way too little to be in such a stroller. And we're talking about the same woman who bought an 8 month old food fit for an 18 month old?

There are also several other annoyance factors involved. She always wants "to help" but she's always in the way and ends up messing things up. Usually, what she wants to do is to help is with the kids, but honestly, that is one area that I master and if I need help, I'll ask. She really does believe, despite the fact that she never had any of her own, that she knows the best thing for children and that only her methods are the good ones. She also can't hear, so every time you say something and you aren't even talking to her at all, she makes this weird noise in-between a 'huh?' and an animal noise. So, you hear this noise several times an hour. I'll be talking to Louise or Gab and I'll hear the noise and I roll my eyes every time thinking to myself 'I am NOT talking to you.' She's also in everyone's business. Today I was getting something out of my purse and she said "What are you looking for? Can I help you?" Ummm, it's my purse and no, you can't go through my purse and can you just leave me alone, can a woman not look for a pair of sunglasses without being asked what she is doing? 

As soon as we got her from the airport and got out of the car at E's mom's house, I got Alice out of the car and she was on me like vultures on their dead prey because I had Alice in my arms. She kept lingering around me, I know she wanted me to pass her Alice, but I was just being a plain bitch, and I recognize that fact. Finally, she went to Etienne and asked him if she could hold Alice. For a minute my heart softened and I became less wicked and let her feed the bottle while I decorated the table for the reception (of course, I don't have the 'right' bottles). Then, I took Alice, put her in the Baby Bjorn, which she loves, while I finished decorating the table and the cousin kept saying "Can I take Alice off your hands?" and the bitch in me returned and I kept saying "No, she's perfectly happy where she is." 

Yesterday, Louise wanted to walk home with me after the baptism instead of taking the cousin's hand and the cousin got all upset and said "Well, my role as nanny has failed I suppose and she prefers her mother" Hell, yes, Louise is MY daughter!!! 

Today when I brought Alice down for her bottle around 9 a.m, when I walk into the kitchen the cousin has her arms open wide and gives me (now I wish I could do the motion on my blog for you, but I'll try to verbalize it) that clapping then give me gesture with her arms you know, clapping and then bringing her arms in signaling "Give her to me." Me, again, being the bitch, but also in my own defense, I really do love feeding MY daughter and it was a moment of relaxing around the breakfast table with my coffee, said "No, I'm perfectly capable of feeding her right now." The whole day I've heard "Can I take Alice off your hands?" No, you can't. Alice is just fine where she is. Tonight I went to give the kids a bath at E's mom's before we got into the car and headed back to Paris and she said "Oh, that's my job to give them their bath." Wth? And, what is MY role? I am THEIR mother!

When we got back to Paris, late, which is a habit we have to avoid Paris traffic on Sunday evenings, our main priority is to get the kids up to bed. She kept asking me what I wanted her to do with the kids and I said absolutely nothing, that she could just relax in the living room while I get them off to bed and you could tell that she was really bothered by my answer because she honestly thought her role was to put them to bed. We have our routines and we stick by them. She then lingered at the door of their room watching every move I made with the kids, as if Supernanny were there doing an observation. I was very annoyed. Leave me in privacy with my kids and let me put them to bed for crying out loud!

She asked me what time she needed to set her alarm tomorrow so that she could get up and help me with the kids and I said that I could manage it on my own and that I've been doing this for almost 5 years that I've got it covered. I know she is trying to be nice, but the kids are just one area you stay out of with me and I'll ask if I really need help. But, what also annoys me is that she really thinks I need help and that I can't manage and that she knows best. Materially, I have no problem taking care of them and we have our set routines. Being their replacement mother, that is not an area that I need help in, thanks. 

The whole day she has made herself the victim saying "Oh, Andie just doesn't want me to help with the kids." Today, I had nothing to do- we were in the country, with beautiful weather and I was enjoying my kids outside. I didn't need help and didn't ask for help I didn't need. I just don't see why I would ask someone to hold Alice when I am perfectly fine holding her and playing with the other two at the same time. E's mom made a comment this morning saying "I find you very relaxed and at ease with your 3 kids" and I felt like telling her, well, tell it to your cousin because obviously, she thinks I can't manage anything.

E told me tonight that I was being a bitch with her and not nice at all. I told him that we had gone over the limit and I take 100 percent responsibility for my actions, but that he had been warned. She is leaving tomorrow. I hate to be shallow, I really do and she probably wouldn't be so annoying if she weren't a baby stealer.

The image I have of her is ripping babies out of mothers' arms. And, trust me, after an hour with her, you would be writing the same blog post.

Alice's Baptism shoes

Alice's shoes, originally uploaded by afoos.

Aren't these shoes just too cute? I LOVE them and can't wait to try them on Alice tomorrow.

This is a super easy, super fast pattern, although my seams are a little wonky, as usual.

Dirt Cups for the Kids

Dirt Cups for the Kids, originally uploaded by afoos.

My whole theme for the baptism is springtime and flowers, so I thought it would be fun for the kids (and to hear the French freak out by saying "What in the heck is that?") to have their own special dessert- dirt cups!

France didn't get the memo about the invention of gummy worms. I looked left and right, up and down and had to improvise with gummy pacifiers (the round part is in the 'dirt'). I'm hoping this dessert will hold up until tomorrow night, I made it last night and am a little afraid that the oreos are going to become soggy.

Not going to feel guilty, not going to feel guilty

This is what I've had to tell myself over and over again this morning, as E walked into the kitchen scavenging for lunch food and then the inevitable question came "What are we going to eat for lunch?" 

I am cooking the whole day for 30 people tomorrow, I have no time to think about lunch today. My SIL is also coming tonight for dinner with her 4 kids, so lunch is the farthest thing from my mind. Why not, like every normal middle-class Occidental human being go downstairs and across the street and get takeout? This, I will never understand. Instead, E has to linger in front of the fridge filled with party food and not lunch food wondering how in the world he is going to get lunch.

I started to do the victim thing and feel guilty saying "Well, let me think of something to make." because when he starts bitching about lunch, again, I start feeling guilty that I'm not fulfilling my role as provider of food. But, all you have to do is take one look at the kitchen to see that it is just not possible for me to make anything- the countertops are filled with all my cooking stuff strewn everywhere, egg shells, chocolate batter drizzled all over the stove, mixing bowls and veggie peelings. And, I by no means intend to make anything- why can't I be more frank instead of being all passive-aggressive by saying 'Oh, well, I'll make something for you' (since apparently, that's my role).

Well, nope. I've decided it's not my role and that we should just throw some money at the problem across the street with the takeout.

I will not feel guilty about this. 

It's a worm

It's a worm, originally uploaded by afoos.

When I look at this picture, I can't believe that my little Louise is growing up so fast. Just 2 years ago we were baptizing her and now, she's potty-trained and starting school already in September. Sometimes, she still looks like a baby to me, but other times, like in this pic, she is 100 % little girl. They sure do grow up before your eyes.

Baptism Preparation- Main Buffet Table

Baptism Preparation- Main Buffet Table, originally uploaded by afoos.

This weekend I'm catering a dinner buffet for 30 of our relatives for the reception following Alice's christening. Today we went to start setting up at E's mom's house and I have a whole helluva lot of cooking to do tomorrow.

We've always done the same type of christening reception for our kids and through the years we've gotten lots of questions from Americans, usually curious but sometimes downright negative (we've actually heard "I just think it's ridiculous that you put so much into a baptism, it's like a wedding" . I don't mind curious but the closed-minded negativity can stay on the other side of the Atlantic. Since when does ridiculous= that which is unfamiliar to you? Just because certain countries have different 'rituals' for certain events doesn't make them 'ridiculous'. We have prom and baby showers, which are two things that definitely do not exist in France, but we put just as much time into those events as the French put into a baptism reception and I don't think many Americans would appreciate hearing that the time and preparation we put into these events are 'ridiculous'. Or what about the quincinera in the Hispanic culture? I could never allow myself to say that something that is so inherent on their culture is 'ridiculous' just because we don't celebrate the same way in our own. Anyway, off of my little rant of hearing yet again, 'Well, in the US we just don't do it that way'. As if that's is the ONLY way to do it. If I got a penny for every time I've heard that one, I'd be able to quit my day job.

A baptism, in France, not only symbolizes a child's entry into the church but also their entry into the family and it usually involves a little more than cake in the church basement and just the grandparents attending. It's a celebration of welcome. It's not as big as a wedding, but it is a formal dinner where family and extended family are invited. There's always champagne, yummy desserts, tons of good food and many people you don't get to see too often.

So, what am I blogging about, I need to go make some food to put on that table for Saturday!