In France, children should be seen and not heard. And they should be seen perfectly dressed, brushed and presented. My children apparently do not meet this standard. Although their hair is (usually) brushed, it is a rare occasion that they will allow hair accessories. And, as for dressing, I am afraid it is no better. Target casual does not fly in France. As a matter of fact, one of our neighbors brought us a catalog of children's clothing shortly after we moved here. The message I got, "your children do not look French enough." Another member of the French Mommy Brigade said last May, "it is finally warm enough for summer clothes." I said yes, but my girls were ready in February. "Yes," she replied, "I noticed." Yikes.
And, although dogs, also to be seen and not heard, are adored, allowed and welcomed everywhere, children are not. You will often see a dog at a restaurant, but rarely a child. And, it is even less likely that the restaurant will have any type of high chair. If you dare to bring a child to a restaurant, they had better behave. Recently, we went to our favorite "family" restaurant. One that actually has high chairs. We like it because one, it is a buffet, and two, kids eat free, a great deal for us. Unfortunately, on this particular day, the little blond duckling had the dropsies. Not 10 seconds into the buffet line she dropped her plate, 30 seconds later, she spilled ALL her food on the floor. Two minutes after that we were informed of a change in the kids eat free policy. It only applies if there is an equivalent adult. So, we would have to pay for two of the kids. Perfectly fair under the circumstances, but I think if a dog had dropped the food, all would have been forgiven.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Self Cleaning/Pay Toilets 1, The Ducklings 0
On one of the recent beautiful days in Toulon (ok, who am I kidding? It has been hot, really hot), the Ducklings and I headed to our favorite beach. Although a mere 5 minute walk from our villa, all the Ducklings needed to visit the self-cleaning/pay toilet immediately upon arrival. If you have visited San Francsico or Paris, you may be familiar with this creation, a nice public potty, that flushes and cleans itself after each use. A brilliant idea really, but it seems the reality is somewhat different. If you have ever visited one with a toddler, you know what I mean. The floor is always wet, but at least it is cleanish. Anyway, being the organized mommy that I am, I only had 20 centimes with me, the cost of one visit to the potty. I therefore insisted that all the girls go in together, all use the potty, and then all come out. I put in the money and the girls entered. I walked away to set up camp, a distance of about 20 feet, when I heard them call to me with the door open. They could not find the lights. They found them, shut the door and then about 20 seconds later chaos, and screams of terror. Apparently opening and shutting the door set off the self-clean cycle on the potty...with all the Ducklings inside. I dashed over and yanked open the door just in time to see the biggest Duckling sliding to the floor as the toilet retracted into the wall for cleaning. Water was spraying from the walls, and the girls were pretty much terrified, the big Duckling with her swimsuit around her ankles. I did my best to put on the "good mommy face" and not laugh, but it was tough. The dark-haired, twin Duckling just kept repeating over and over, "Mommacita, that was so scary. I was terrified." After a quick rinse in the beach shower, they were off into the water. The "terrifying" trip to the self-cleaning potty quickly forgotten. I really must learn the French trick for never having to use the potty.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Summer is coming to an end....
Today is a very exciting day in the Canard household. The cleaning lady is returning from her extended summer vacation. She has been visiting her mother since the beginning of July. I am quite jealous of the extended French vacation. Everyone we know has been gone all summer. Most people have gone to visit family, staying a couple weeks and then either returning sans kids or vacationing on their own. Did I mention, sans kids? As the Big Duck technically works for the U.S. we do not enjoy the same benefit. Did I mention, jealous?
Not only does Madame P come once a week to vacuum and scrub, she watches the littlest duckling, giving me one afternoon a week to myself. Granted, I usually do my big grocery trip of the week, but it is blissful to be alone. And, that is saying something as I go to Carrefour, the French equivalent of the Wal-Mart Super Store only with more people crowding every conceivable space. In Madame P's absence, I did manage to vacuum several times a week and even cleaned a few toilets, but let's face it, unless the kids knocked over the dogs water, the floors were just not getting cleaned. Having four ducklings at home and under foot every day, all day for the past 7 weeks is not conducive to accomplishing anything at the house. I consider it a miracle that the laundry got done, although come to think of it, they did wear swimsuits a lot cutting down on laundry volume.
So, although I will remember this summer, our first here in France, with fondness, what I am really looking forward to having is a clean house and more then 30 seconds to myself. Did I mention, Blissful?
Not only does Madame P come once a week to vacuum and scrub, she watches the littlest duckling, giving me one afternoon a week to myself. Granted, I usually do my big grocery trip of the week, but it is blissful to be alone. And, that is saying something as I go to Carrefour, the French equivalent of the Wal-Mart Super Store only with more people crowding every conceivable space. In Madame P's absence, I did manage to vacuum several times a week and even cleaned a few toilets, but let's face it, unless the kids knocked over the dogs water, the floors were just not getting cleaned. Having four ducklings at home and under foot every day, all day for the past 7 weeks is not conducive to accomplishing anything at the house. I consider it a miracle that the laundry got done, although come to think of it, they did wear swimsuits a lot cutting down on laundry volume.
So, although I will remember this summer, our first here in France, with fondness, what I am really looking forward to having is a clean house and more then 30 seconds to myself. Did I mention, Blissful?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Once again, Mother of the Year
The littlest duckling recently broke her arm. She fell from the top of our plastic play structure head first. Several years ago, the play set was a gift to the biggest duckling from Nonna. Nonna feels very guilty it caused a trip to the emergency room. I am just glad it happened here and not in the US. The Big Duck and his duckling were home from the ER within an hour and a half, Xrays, cast and all. After the plaster ER cast they put on the cast shown in the photo. It is made of a plastic mesh that they heat and then mold to the arm. Hers actually goes to the shoulder, but I did not get a good photo. Worst of all, in an attempt to make up for not immortalizing the event in photos, I washed the little cast (after removal of course) in the dishwasher....ooops. It melted. It melted to all the parts of the dishwasher. I had to use the hairdryer to heat it and pry it off. Now, in her keepsake box, my littlest duckling will have a blob of beige plastic. Someday, I am sure, she will ask what it is. Hopefully, I will remember.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Notes from a summer weekend
It was an exciting and important weekend in the South of France. Sixty-five years ago, on August 15, 1944, the Allies began Operation Dragoon. The parallel to the assult on the Normandie beaches, Operation Dragoon, with the help of the French Resistance, lead to the eventual liberation of southern France. In celebration, most of the towns, big and small, between Toulon and Cannes hold some kind of ceremony each year around August 15. What this really means, is that the Big Duck is really busy, and attends lots of functions. He says it is like simultaneously planning 7 weddings that are all happening at the same time. The highlight for him so far, was the ceremony in Le Muy, where 8 US, WWII vets were presented the French Legion of Honor. These men, now mostly in their 90's, parachuted into Le Muy and liberated the area from the Germans. Also in attendance were many of the family members of the men who liberated this town. Quite an experience.
What August 15 meant for me and the Ducklings, was another long day at the beach. We spent the day holding places for us and another family to view the fireworks in Toulon. We arrived at noon for 10 p.m. fireworks. It was hot....really hot. However, with sunscreen and SPF protective clothing we survived. After a quick trip home in the evening we returned just in time to view one of the most amazing fireworks displays I have ever seen. It was set to music, all in English (which I always find an interesting choice) .....and was spectacular. Some of the fireworks burst in pastels, some at angles, and some danced. There was also a light show....awesome. The French sure know how to do fireworks. Sunday was the airshow and it was also impressive. Quite amazing, when you think of all the towns south of Toulon, that are doing the same thing simultaneously.
And, just a couple notes. I have been reading a few other blogs as I set out on this blogging thing, mostly in hopes of figuring it all out. Anyway, one of the more interesting ones I have found, is http://www.lemomparis.blogspot.com/. This woman is leading a life that is slightly more, how shall I say? Socially advanced then mine? She covers topics from her hairdresser to her vein Dr (I wish), to nannies (I really wish) etc. But a recent post caught my eye. She talked about an article in the newspapaer Le Journal du Dimanche, that discussed how the French are sun illiterate. They don't believe in sunscreen, they can't imagine wearing a hat and SPF protective clothing is unheard of. A tan is actually considered a social plus as it shows you vacationed and could afford to vacation somewhere sunny. In turn, skin cancer rates are steadily increasing. Le Mom said she is showing the article to anyone who criticizes her for sunscreening and covering her kids (the French Fries as she calls them...I love this). It made me think, while I know that we are pegged as Americans everywhere we go, (loud dog, louder children, even louder Mom, hats and rash guards at the beach etc.) I have never heard a comment about us. Then, I realized, I wouldn't understand any of the comments I hear. So I figure, for now, until my French improves a bit, we will be "the Americans" and when I make a mistake or do something that is not normal to the French, they can roll their eyes and say, "oh those Americans, they do not know anything." And, they will just expect me and my children to be imperfect. C'est la vie! I just hope tomorrow is another great day in France.
What August 15 meant for me and the Ducklings, was another long day at the beach. We spent the day holding places for us and another family to view the fireworks in Toulon. We arrived at noon for 10 p.m. fireworks. It was hot....really hot. However, with sunscreen and SPF protective clothing we survived. After a quick trip home in the evening we returned just in time to view one of the most amazing fireworks displays I have ever seen. It was set to music, all in English (which I always find an interesting choice) .....and was spectacular. Some of the fireworks burst in pastels, some at angles, and some danced. There was also a light show....awesome. The French sure know how to do fireworks. Sunday was the airshow and it was also impressive. Quite amazing, when you think of all the towns south of Toulon, that are doing the same thing simultaneously.
And, just a couple notes. I have been reading a few other blogs as I set out on this blogging thing, mostly in hopes of figuring it all out. Anyway, one of the more interesting ones I have found, is http://www.lemomparis.blogspot.com/. This woman is leading a life that is slightly more, how shall I say? Socially advanced then mine? She covers topics from her hairdresser to her vein Dr (I wish), to nannies (I really wish) etc. But a recent post caught my eye. She talked about an article in the newspapaer Le Journal du Dimanche, that discussed how the French are sun illiterate. They don't believe in sunscreen, they can't imagine wearing a hat and SPF protective clothing is unheard of. A tan is actually considered a social plus as it shows you vacationed and could afford to vacation somewhere sunny. In turn, skin cancer rates are steadily increasing. Le Mom said she is showing the article to anyone who criticizes her for sunscreening and covering her kids (the French Fries as she calls them...I love this). It made me think, while I know that we are pegged as Americans everywhere we go, (loud dog, louder children, even louder Mom, hats and rash guards at the beach etc.) I have never heard a comment about us. Then, I realized, I wouldn't understand any of the comments I hear. So I figure, for now, until my French improves a bit, we will be "the Americans" and when I make a mistake or do something that is not normal to the French, they can roll their eyes and say, "oh those Americans, they do not know anything." And, they will just expect me and my children to be imperfect. C'est la vie! I just hope tomorrow is another great day in France.
Friday, August 14, 2009
So Many Things..
Today, I could share so many adventures, but I will stick with only one, my morning run. Yes, I am running. Why you ask??? Because, in a fit of, I don't know, let's call it stupidity, I decided to run a marathon to celebrate 40 years on this earth. In my defense, I did pick what has been described as "the most fun marathon anywhere" and, there is drinking involved. In September I am running the Marathon du Medoc, in Bordeaux. My friend, Melanie, is coming to run with me, and we are a pretty even match at between 12 and 15 minutes per mile. Throw in the wine tasting every 2 km, and we may finish in the required 6.5 hours.
Anyway, this brings me to my morning run. I love running at the beach in the morning. The beach here in Toulon is beautiful. It is a series of jetty's and coves ringed by about 20-30 feet of sand (well, actually gravel, as that is what passes for sand here). Just past the sand there is a seawall and perched on top are restaurants, grouped in twos, an asphalt walkway, then grass and trees, a playground, a carousel, various food stands, a putt putt golf course etc., etc. This stretches on for almost a mile, and in the summer, it is packed. However, at 6:30 a.m. the only people you see are the workers, cleaning, watering and preparing for another day. You also see my favorite Toulonaise. There is the twenty-something swimming every morning, the sixty-something methodically preparing his sun spot...a raised platform of sand/gravel about 6 by 4 feet, painstakingly raked to perfection each day at 7 a.m. Then he lays out his blankets, his towels and his umbrella. I assume he then spends the day there. I know he leaves his umbrellas and blankets there, as I see them before his arrival. There is also the lady that feeds the cats each day and the restaurant owners setting up their beach chairs. Today, the special guest stars were the couple that seemed to have spent the night at the beach after partying at one of the nearby "discos". On one pass they were making out under their blanket, apparently wearing their clothes from last night. Hers was a lovely shimmery, silver dress. On the next pass, they were asleep...that was fast. How I would have liked to see that walk of shame. My very favorite person is the man who walks his dog every morning from his car. He drives in a very slow circle while holding the dogs leash out the window. Yes, the dog is attached. Is this lazy or what?? The dog stops to pee, he stops, the dog stops to sniff, he stops. I love it.
Today, I almost got run over by a waiter who I am sure was late for work. He yelled at me for crossing in front of him. Whatever. The walking man was up. Of course, as I turned to yell back, my french being what it is, I yelled, "c'est walking man verte". If he spoke no English he would be confused.....it should be "homme verte" and he had passed by the time I got out the rest of what I wanted...a naughty word that rhymes with "bass pole". Good thing I live in a country that knows the meaning of gun control. No need to worry about the crazy waiter jumping out with a gun. May every day I run be just as much fun.
And, before I go, I just finished a good book...."The Sweet Life in Paris" by David Lebovitz. Funny anecdotes about living in Paris...many of which I can relate to...and AMAZING
recipes...can't wait to cook. Check out his blog at www.davidlebovitz.com.
Anyway, this brings me to my morning run. I love running at the beach in the morning. The beach here in Toulon is beautiful. It is a series of jetty's and coves ringed by about 20-30 feet of sand (well, actually gravel, as that is what passes for sand here). Just past the sand there is a seawall and perched on top are restaurants, grouped in twos, an asphalt walkway, then grass and trees, a playground, a carousel, various food stands, a putt putt golf course etc., etc. This stretches on for almost a mile, and in the summer, it is packed. However, at 6:30 a.m. the only people you see are the workers, cleaning, watering and preparing for another day. You also see my favorite Toulonaise. There is the twenty-something swimming every morning, the sixty-something methodically preparing his sun spot...a raised platform of sand/gravel about 6 by 4 feet, painstakingly raked to perfection each day at 7 a.m. Then he lays out his blankets, his towels and his umbrella. I assume he then spends the day there. I know he leaves his umbrellas and blankets there, as I see them before his arrival. There is also the lady that feeds the cats each day and the restaurant owners setting up their beach chairs. Today, the special guest stars were the couple that seemed to have spent the night at the beach after partying at one of the nearby "discos". On one pass they were making out under their blanket, apparently wearing their clothes from last night. Hers was a lovely shimmery, silver dress. On the next pass, they were asleep...that was fast. How I would have liked to see that walk of shame. My very favorite person is the man who walks his dog every morning from his car. He drives in a very slow circle while holding the dogs leash out the window. Yes, the dog is attached. Is this lazy or what?? The dog stops to pee, he stops, the dog stops to sniff, he stops. I love it.
Today, I almost got run over by a waiter who I am sure was late for work. He yelled at me for crossing in front of him. Whatever. The walking man was up. Of course, as I turned to yell back, my french being what it is, I yelled, "c'est walking man verte". If he spoke no English he would be confused.....it should be "homme verte" and he had passed by the time I got out the rest of what I wanted...a naughty word that rhymes with "bass pole". Good thing I live in a country that knows the meaning of gun control. No need to worry about the crazy waiter jumping out with a gun. May every day I run be just as much fun.
And, before I go, I just finished a good book...."The Sweet Life in Paris" by David Lebovitz. Funny anecdotes about living in Paris...many of which I can relate to...and AMAZING
recipes...can't wait to cook. Check out his blog at www.davidlebovitz.com.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Another Great Day in France
What a great day we had at the beach. Six kids arrived, and six kids left. For me, this makes for a successful day, but then I have pretty low standards. Encouraged by our new friendship with the French/Austalian family visiting Grandmere in the house behind us, we ventured beyond the local beach and headed to Hyeres. There is some concern by the Aussie mom that not only will her children return home not speaking French, they will have picked up American English, but, they keep inviting us to join them on outings. This has worked out well for everyone although her son, being the only boy is pretty over all the girls. He was heard to utter several times today, "that is it. I am not playing with girls anymore."
The beach....L'Almanarre is beautiful. It is long, very long and wide. There is free lot parking at the beginning and end as well as pull in parking all along the beach. Also at the beginning of the beach, there are several restaurants and a small market. This end of the beach holds one of the few lifeguard stations and regular toilets. After that it is pretty much the ocean or the port-a-potty. The French are not known for their public toilet facitities, and frankly, I am not sure the French ever do go to the bathroom. The family we were with did not drink anything all day, so that might explain it. Of course, my children had a juice box or a water with lunch, and then, were port-a-potty bound. They all refused to go in the ocean.....making them possibly the only children ever to make this choice.
The beach is made up of small, smooth stones close to the water and regular coarse grain sand further from the water. When the wind is down, like it was today, there are no waves. However, by the looks of some of the folks on the beach, it has possibilities as a windsurfing and kite-surfing beach. There was a lot of gear laying around. The highlight for me, was that across the road from the beach there are flocks of wild flamingoes living in the marshes. I have been dying to see them for some time, so this was a bonus to the day. There are viewing platforms spaced along the roadway, but you can see just as well from the rise of the beach albeit from 30 feet further away. The flamingoes also bring out the birders, so on one side of the road you have the topless sunbathers, and the other the usually older, binocular clad bird folks. I am sure I will be joining the bird group someday.
It is always interesting to go to the beach in France. There is a nice mix of families and groups of younger people, locals and tourists. I love how comfortable French women are with their bodies. It doesn't matter to them if they are the thinest or the prettiest, they wear what they want. Usually that is a bikini. Often, it is a bikini with no top. Often it is grandma with no top....not a pretty sight...think two dried prunes hanging from your chest. Often it is Mom, playing catch with her kids with no top. Unfathomable to most Americans. You won't see me without a top, but I have started wearing a bikini. I figure I look just as good as most of the people out there, better then some, and I should be happy with my body. Americans have a hard time with the concept of being comfortable with themselves. Americans judge each other much more harshly then the French judge one another. To them a body is a body and from a very young age they learn to accept this. Girls generally wear just bikini bottoms until age 10 or so...of course, not my girls who are covered in UV protective clothing as much as possible. We stick out as Americans, but I will not sacrifice my childrens future skin for the French. Thankfully, my girls don't seem to mind....so far.
So here is to another day......may tomorrow be just as much fun.
The beach....L'Almanarre is beautiful. It is long, very long and wide. There is free lot parking at the beginning and end as well as pull in parking all along the beach. Also at the beginning of the beach, there are several restaurants and a small market. This end of the beach holds one of the few lifeguard stations and regular toilets. After that it is pretty much the ocean or the port-a-potty. The French are not known for their public toilet facitities, and frankly, I am not sure the French ever do go to the bathroom. The family we were with did not drink anything all day, so that might explain it. Of course, my children had a juice box or a water with lunch, and then, were port-a-potty bound. They all refused to go in the ocean.....making them possibly the only children ever to make this choice.
The beach is made up of small, smooth stones close to the water and regular coarse grain sand further from the water. When the wind is down, like it was today, there are no waves. However, by the looks of some of the folks on the beach, it has possibilities as a windsurfing and kite-surfing beach. There was a lot of gear laying around. The highlight for me, was that across the road from the beach there are flocks of wild flamingoes living in the marshes. I have been dying to see them for some time, so this was a bonus to the day. There are viewing platforms spaced along the roadway, but you can see just as well from the rise of the beach albeit from 30 feet further away. The flamingoes also bring out the birders, so on one side of the road you have the topless sunbathers, and the other the usually older, binocular clad bird folks. I am sure I will be joining the bird group someday.
It is always interesting to go to the beach in France. There is a nice mix of families and groups of younger people, locals and tourists. I love how comfortable French women are with their bodies. It doesn't matter to them if they are the thinest or the prettiest, they wear what they want. Usually that is a bikini. Often, it is a bikini with no top. Often it is grandma with no top....not a pretty sight...think two dried prunes hanging from your chest. Often it is Mom, playing catch with her kids with no top. Unfathomable to most Americans. You won't see me without a top, but I have started wearing a bikini. I figure I look just as good as most of the people out there, better then some, and I should be happy with my body. Americans have a hard time with the concept of being comfortable with themselves. Americans judge each other much more harshly then the French judge one another. To them a body is a body and from a very young age they learn to accept this. Girls generally wear just bikini bottoms until age 10 or so...of course, not my girls who are covered in UV protective clothing as much as possible. We stick out as Americans, but I will not sacrifice my childrens future skin for the French. Thankfully, my girls don't seem to mind....so far.
So here is to another day......may tomorrow be just as much fun.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
This was just the beginning
It is hard to believe that it has been a year since we were denied visas for our move to France. Let's just say I learned that traveling with a husband on military orders does not speed the process up, and sometimes it takes the intervention of a higher (ranking) power to fix the problem. In our case, it took 8 weeks to fix the problem, but fixed it was, so on 25 October 2008, we set off for a "new" life in Toulon France. When I say new, I mean that really my life was pretty much the same. I had the same husband...who beat me to France by a week, and the same four adorable daughters...all under 6. What was new was pretty much everything else....the house, the language, the friends, the city, the bus, the French etc. etc. I am sure that there is no way I can do this past year or the coming year justice, but I will try. Oh, and I hope to really do the coming year justice, as I am sure that there will be many, many more exciting and laughable (well, eventually laughable) adventures. Allez!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
