Thursday 22 November 2012
Thanksgiving and Giving Thanks
Today we had Petite and Bebe's first real Thanksgiving (since we have been living in Europe for their lives up till now). They didn't quite get the whole historical precedence (Petite is mostly anxious that the Pilgrims' "President send them on a long journey and many people died").
Paternal grandma had us all go around the table and say what we are thankful for. Three year old Bebe says she is thankful for her sister (OK, my heart was truly melting). After dinner, when they should both be completely melting down from an exhausting day, Petite surprises me beyond belief. She goes into her room and CLEANS UP EVERYTHING (this has never ever happened before), organizing her toys and categorizing them and then proceeding to fold all of her little sister's clothes.
This is the the kid who steps out of her clothes and usually just leaves them on the floor.
After congratulating her and telling her how proud I am of this behavior, I ask what made her do this. She says "Thanksgiving is a holiday when we give thanks. So I cleaned up."
Honestly, every time I think I have a little clue as to what makes my kids tick, they do something totally baffling and I am awestruck.
Friday 26 October 2012
Girls
6 year old Petite has friend over for playdate.
"Let's pretend we are sisters at a dance and all the boys are surrounding us"
"OK pretend he kissed you and now you're dead but then you're alive"
"I got kissed!"
"Me too!"
3 year old Bebe is crawling around on floor pretending to be a puppy dog.
Petite twirling around the room "the boys are all trying to dance with me"
YEE GADS!!!! This is age SIX? What the hell am I in for in 10 years????
Gluey mom
Sunday 21 October 2012
SO happy to be in California right now. Shlepped the girls to Tahoe
for the weekend. Because MAMA has been dying to get to the Sierras (a huge pull for me to move back to CA). Previous weekends/trips "en famille" have not fared so well (read: SUCKED!) - including taking them "off the beaten track" in Morocco, to a fabulous luxury hotel in Sorrento that hubbie was shooting. Hotel room bigger than our entire apartment which turned out to be much needed since it RAINED FOR A WEEK - and Mama was solo entertaining two tykes - one of whom insisted on only eating hot dogs (in Southern Italy? Not so easy to find). So, trepidatiously, we embarked on this weekend, discount hotel room since very "off" season at ski resort. Turned out to be GORGEOUS foliage (=happy Mama) and even though no hiking (not with these two), we managed to put them on the back of bikes and take lovely ride through fall foliage (bribing them with chocolate along the route). A tantrum free (almost) weekend (empty hotel helps - no fear of waking paying guests). Feel we might be back in the game!
Friday 7 September 2012
Settling in
Two weeks into Bebe's new school and things feel almost settled. Found out that the heater in the floor IS in fact legal and up to code. Amazing since in order to heat the place, the metal grate on the floor will heat up to burning hot temperature, enough to severely burn feet - big or little. Of course there is no way I will use it as it is place directly outside the girls' room. Can't believe this is up to code. Jeez. washer and dryer finally arrived after two weeks and, I kid you not, no less than 10 phone calls and 15 emails which arrived daily, each one confirming a different delivery date and time. Are we actually IN the USA? Land of "convenience"? Seriously, it was more "convenient" to take Bebe and trek across town to DARTY in Paris, place our order and wait for the delivery.
Sunday 2 September 2012
Fairy WIngs
Tonight while falling asleep, Bebe announced, completely matter of factly, "Mama I don't want to do the Olympics in swimming or gymnastics because I am wishing for fairy wings and then I will be able to fly"
Tuesday 28 August 2012
Welcome Back
Want to shoot myself. We finally found an apartment to move into. After squatting at my mom’s for seven weeks, she was plenty ready for us to find our own home. Real estate shopping sucks right now. Nothing available, unless you are able to buy, which we are not. Picky we are not. We looked at and applied to every two bedroom apt in Sausalito, my only requirements being that there are at least two bedrooms (even tho the kids have slept ON TOP OF ME to date, I had high hopes of sleeping in a room with only one other person. Though, frankly, right now, my fantasy night includes me alone, sleeping just about anywhere. Honestly, I am thinking of taking a backpacking trip alone). Every apartment we applied to fell through: one was so moldy Clay started wheezing after three minutes in the bedroom, another owned by a crazy guy who decided, after the agent accepted our application, that he didn’t want to meet us, the third we lost out because even though we were acceptable, the owner preferred to take a Silicon Valley 27 year old with a million dollars in the bank (is that legal?), the fourth, the owner told me he doesn’t want kids in the building (and stated that he cant legally not accept my application but since he doesnt want us, please don’t apply). Several more we put in an application for and the agent just never called us back. Finally, we were accepted to our current apartment after the initial applicatns decided not to take it (probably should have taken a cue from them).
We had a feeling the apartment was quirky and a shoddy cosmetic job had been done so that it could be rented, but we needed somewhere to live and frankly, this was our only option.
This weekend we discovered why this part of Sausalito is called Hurricane Gulch. We owned a house ten years ago on the adjacent hillside and sure it was windy but now I realize that house was protected because if was tucked into the hillside. The brick townhouse we rent is smack in the middle of the “valley” between two Sausalito hillsides, right in the path of the hurricane winds that blow down the hill towards the bay.
Frinds Jessica and Jonathon came over for dinner Saturday night. I had told them the house gets cold, dress warm and they realized I wanst exaggerating when they kept their parkas on all evening. Meanwhile the windows are so old that gusts blow through the gaps between paine and sill. The girls’ room is so cold that I have our sleeping bags tucked into their beds. Down sleeping bags – the ones we used trekking to Everest Base Camp. That’s how cold it was this weekend.
Because aside from the hurricane winds blowing inside due to the crappy windows, the fireplace has no damper. Just an open chimney to the sky. The realtor had told us we could use the fireplace. Now the management company tells us it is not usable. Not only was that appealing for its charm but it would be a way to keep warm! (Yes, this is August in Sausalito. Eveyrhwere else in the country people are dropping dead from heat exhaustion. Meanwhile we are wearing long underwear and fleece and wrapping ourselves in down sleeping bags).
Now for the heating system. I never used heat gorwing up in San Francisco. Didn’t even realize we had central heating since my dad forbid anyone to use it. Turns out the heating system in this apartment is a metal grate in the middle of the floor – right at the intersection of the girls’ room, the entryway and the kitchen. Impossible to avoid stepping on or over it. The heat blows up from there. The system gets verhot, the grate becomes a burning piece of metal. It is clearly labled “Caution: Keep off. May cause burns. Keep children away”.
Now HOW are we spuppoed to use this system without injuring either ourselves or the kids? We turned it on, just to check it out. The thermostat must be broken because it is blank – impossible to regulate temperature. We flipped the switch that says “heat”, a huge rumbling noise gurgled up from the floor, followed by a strong burning smell and then the piercing screech of the smoke alarm.
We turned it off.
We wrote to the property manager explaining that 1. The heater set the smoke alarm off 2. This doesn’t seem safe (and says “Caution, keep off, burns” etc).
Their response was “Don’t scream at me Tamar! PGE checked it out and it is working fine”
Excuse me?
I called PGE. They do check heaters. They don’t check whether they are in a safe location or likely to burn someone (hmmmm???) I called the Sausalito building inspector. A very nice man called me back and said they don’t check heaters either. I called the Fire Department. A nice fireman drove twenty minutes to our house. (Im not sure why I couldn’t get through to the Sausalito Fire Department 3 minutes away?) . Guess it is a slow day, since I had explained this isn’t an emergency, I just have a question about possible fire hazard and to whom should I talk?
He looked at the system questioningly and stated he had no idea whether it was hazardous but, it clearly doesn’t work.
A local realtor came over just to check it out. She turned it on, practically burnt her hand in about 2 minutes.
Just then our sofa was delivered. The guys, moaning and groaning about our low ceilings and steep staircase (all of ten stairs. Jeez guys, do you know how many times Ive schlepped furniture up and down 70 stairs of our old house???) and immediately piped up “what is burning in here?”
I’ve been advised to go through our apartment with a fine tooth comb, document every single scratch, crack and dent. Not to mention the open wires poking through the wall, the dodgy extension chord into which the stove is plugged, the cracked glass window in the children’s room and the toilet that barely flushes.
Seriously I’m just about the most low maintenance tenant you could get. Indoor plumbing and safe living conditions are my basic requirement. But for the rent they’re charging, I’d like to not have my kids either freezing their fingers off or making trips to the ER for feet burns on the heating system.
Yes I have reported this to the property management company.
Who replied “You don’t need to scream. It’s already been check out”.
Excuse me? That doesn’t cut it.
Monday 23 July 2012
Mom needs to escape
Sitting in The Grove on Chestnut Street in San Francisco, after having just stormed out of my house. I am beyond frustrated and it’s because of my kids.
Everywhere I look moms are sitting with kids, who are NOT pulling on them, nagging at them or having a temper tantrum. Just net to me, a mom has a newborn in the bjorn and her three year old is calmly sitting next to her, sucking on a lollipop. At another table two moms sit sipping coffee, each with a toddler CALMLY sitting in a stroller, looking at an iphone.
Granted, the whole bebe-with-electronics thing kind of creeps me out. The iphone has become the new addiction etc. But honestly, at this point Id be in heaven if mine would sit and play with anything short of live dynamite and just let me have a conversation for more than 30 seconds.
This morning I took my two to the playground and noticed that there wasn’t more than one minute time span that someone (Bebe) wasn’t calling “mamamamama” or “mama look at me”. I mean, CONSTANTLY! Then La Petite starts, I think vying for attention, either calling “mama look at me” or coming over and pulling on me, wanting me to come climb up the play structures with her.
It’s worse when, like today, we met up with my friend , Nadine, and her little one. Nadine sits there calmly while her tot plays near her or wanders away to climb up the slide. Every once in awhile the two year old comes over to check in with mom and Nadine smiles, gives her daughter a big hug and kiss and then the little one wanders off. Meanwhile Bebe is calling “mama look at me!” from the monkey bars and La Petite is pulling on me “mama I need you” so that by the end of a mere 45 minutes I’m about to boil over AND am thinking HOW am I going to get through the rest of the day?
They are constantly questioning, complaining or nagging. There is little if no silent time and when the two of them are alone with me it is constant rivalry for attention, sitting on lap, getting hugs, or just talking. Non stop. I mean NONSTOP talking, demanding, pulling.
So HOW do other moms do it? I have tried all the typical methods of setting limits. I’m not overly indulgent and I am definitely not personally invested in my kids “needing” me. You know those moms who NEED their kids to need them. I don’t! I must be the only mom who feels like “please DON’T need me!” Please need someone else!
To make matters worse, when my husband comes home and I’m desperate to escape the kids, they treat him like he’s the boogey man “no daddy no daddy!” and run away from him. The only way for me to have ANY break is to escape – to physically LEAVE the house. Which is exhausting for me after six years, and discouraging for dear old dad.
Today, when DH came home and was going to take over the kids, they ran from him in terror, I ended up doing bathtime while folding laundry and he is reading a book. He shrugs and says “I cant do anything if they run away from me”. Which I understand – it’s tough for him t take charge if they run from him in terror (which is completely unfounded) but it means I dont get a break, I end up fuming, spitting fire at both husband and kids and storming out.
Everywhere I look moms are sitting with kids, who are NOT pulling on them, nagging at them or having a temper tantrum. Just net to me, a mom has a newborn in the bjorn and her three year old is calmly sitting next to her, sucking on a lollipop. At another table two moms sit sipping coffee, each with a toddler CALMLY sitting in a stroller, looking at an iphone.
Granted, the whole bebe-with-electronics thing kind of creeps me out. The iphone has become the new addiction etc. But honestly, at this point Id be in heaven if mine would sit and play with anything short of live dynamite and just let me have a conversation for more than 30 seconds.
This morning I took my two to the playground and noticed that there wasn’t more than one minute time span that someone (Bebe) wasn’t calling “mamamamama” or “mama look at me”. I mean, CONSTANTLY! Then La Petite starts, I think vying for attention, either calling “mama look at me” or coming over and pulling on me, wanting me to come climb up the play structures with her.
It’s worse when, like today, we met up with my friend , Nadine, and her little one. Nadine sits there calmly while her tot plays near her or wanders away to climb up the slide. Every once in awhile the two year old comes over to check in with mom and Nadine smiles, gives her daughter a big hug and kiss and then the little one wanders off. Meanwhile Bebe is calling “mama look at me!” from the monkey bars and La Petite is pulling on me “mama I need you” so that by the end of a mere 45 minutes I’m about to boil over AND am thinking HOW am I going to get through the rest of the day?
They are constantly questioning, complaining or nagging. There is little if no silent time and when the two of them are alone with me it is constant rivalry for attention, sitting on lap, getting hugs, or just talking. Non stop. I mean NONSTOP talking, demanding, pulling.
So HOW do other moms do it? I have tried all the typical methods of setting limits. I’m not overly indulgent and I am definitely not personally invested in my kids “needing” me. You know those moms who NEED their kids to need them. I don’t! I must be the only mom who feels like “please DON’T need me!” Please need someone else!
To make matters worse, when my husband comes home and I’m desperate to escape the kids, they treat him like he’s the boogey man “no daddy no daddy!” and run away from him. The only way for me to have ANY break is to escape – to physically LEAVE the house. Which is exhausting for me after six years, and discouraging for dear old dad.
Today, when DH came home and was going to take over the kids, they ran from him in terror, I ended up doing bathtime while folding laundry and he is reading a book. He shrugs and says “I cant do anything if they run away from me”. Which I understand – it’s tough for him t take charge if they run from him in terror (which is completely unfounded) but it means I dont get a break, I end up fuming, spitting fire at both husband and kids and storming out.
Monday 16 July 2012
Sunny California
So we just moved back to San Francisco after 7 years back and forth between Paris and Italy. Bittersweet. Especially after a challenging month of "transition" in Italy which was meant to be "relaxing" but began with Bebe getting hit by a car and ended with me being seriously ill for weeks. Fun. We landed in SF exactly as we had NOT meant to - feeling like we were refugees. After all of our planning to return calm and rested. I think this is an impossible task with two small children under any circumstances. On the drive from the airport to my mom's house (where the four of us are crashing as husband and I frantically search for a place to live. Miraculously we got both kids into charter school - an impossible feat - but can't find a place to rent!) - we arrived smack in the midst of Gay Pride. The kids staring out the window at a man strolling down the street wearing a backpack and sandals. And that's all. Welcome to SF! After years of manhandling my kids into "appropriate dress" in Paris ("appropriate" by Paris standards does NOT include my kids' favorite outfits: 1. fairy wings, 2. Dora the Explorer Nightgowns. 3. No pants).
So far things have gone well (minus Bebe's current dislike for the Golden Gate bridge, which we cross every day to go to camp. No idea what her opposition is but every day I hear "OH NO! NOT THE Golden Gate BRIDGE!" with La Petite chiming in chorus "Not the bridge!"
Yesterday, Grandma and I took the kiddos on what was meant to be a kid-friendly outing to see children's theatre. The show was at the Fairfax Community Theatre. Fairfax is the epitome of birckenstock/organic/family friendly/ LIBERAL/"peace" - it's where all those folks still stuck in the 60s venture to live. The home of "peace and love".
So we are in the theatre. The show is horrid. I mean, I have seen a LOT of theatre and i have an extremely high tolerance for anything that keeps my kids entertained, but this was pretty intolerable. Bebe was entranced (I think the Pirate costumes had something to do with that). And La Petite was chattering away, as three year olds do, We tried to keep her voice to a whisper but, as all kids, she had several comments she was just dying to make. After years of shushing kids and trying to keep them quiet and still in Paris, I was relieved to be in a kid friendly, casual atmosphere.
Oh did I mention that there were ten people in the entire audience? So this lady behind me taps me on the shoulder and says "i think it is highly inappropriate that you have brought your daughter. She is disturbing the actors!" It was all I could do not to retort "these actors are so awful I don't think an 8.0 earthquake would disturb them." They all appeared to be walking coma victims. You have to work pretty hard to appear this inanimate while performing on stage.
I couldn't deal with a fight. Or more of the horrible show, so we left. Bebe was disappointed. Surprisingly she had been entranced and now we had to explain why we were leaving.
So we went to feed the ducks at the Palace of Fine Arts. A sure fire hit with the kids and what could go wrong? Feeding the ducks was a regular activity for me growing up.
Bebe recovered from her disappointment, and for the first time seemed to have overcome her fear of the swans. She was proudly tossing them bits of bread when a voice booms over my shoulder "YOU! STOP feeding the ducks! You are making them fat! You are ruining them!"
I turned to see a livid old man, shaking with fury. What is going on here? Bebe was upset and I could tell she was about to start crying. I pulled myself up to my full 5'2" height and told him"Back off buddy! Today we are feeding the ducks!"
What the hell is going on here? I don't eat foie gras. I barely eat meat. I am all for save the planet, the animals, the planets, the air , the water. But for goodness sake since when did it become an act of cruelty to take your kid to feed the damn ducks?
Friendly Bay Area aint as friendly as I thought!
So far things have gone well (minus Bebe's current dislike for the Golden Gate bridge, which we cross every day to go to camp. No idea what her opposition is but every day I hear "OH NO! NOT THE Golden Gate BRIDGE!" with La Petite chiming in chorus "Not the bridge!"
Yesterday, Grandma and I took the kiddos on what was meant to be a kid-friendly outing to see children's theatre. The show was at the Fairfax Community Theatre. Fairfax is the epitome of birckenstock/organic/family friendly/ LIBERAL/"peace" - it's where all those folks still stuck in the 60s venture to live. The home of "peace and love".
So we are in the theatre. The show is horrid. I mean, I have seen a LOT of theatre and i have an extremely high tolerance for anything that keeps my kids entertained, but this was pretty intolerable. Bebe was entranced (I think the Pirate costumes had something to do with that). And La Petite was chattering away, as three year olds do, We tried to keep her voice to a whisper but, as all kids, she had several comments she was just dying to make. After years of shushing kids and trying to keep them quiet and still in Paris, I was relieved to be in a kid friendly, casual atmosphere.
Oh did I mention that there were ten people in the entire audience? So this lady behind me taps me on the shoulder and says "i think it is highly inappropriate that you have brought your daughter. She is disturbing the actors!" It was all I could do not to retort "these actors are so awful I don't think an 8.0 earthquake would disturb them." They all appeared to be walking coma victims. You have to work pretty hard to appear this inanimate while performing on stage.
I couldn't deal with a fight. Or more of the horrible show, so we left. Bebe was disappointed. Surprisingly she had been entranced and now we had to explain why we were leaving.
So we went to feed the ducks at the Palace of Fine Arts. A sure fire hit with the kids and what could go wrong? Feeding the ducks was a regular activity for me growing up.
Bebe recovered from her disappointment, and for the first time seemed to have overcome her fear of the swans. She was proudly tossing them bits of bread when a voice booms over my shoulder "YOU! STOP feeding the ducks! You are making them fat! You are ruining them!"
I turned to see a livid old man, shaking with fury. What is going on here? Bebe was upset and I could tell she was about to start crying. I pulled myself up to my full 5'2" height and told him"Back off buddy! Today we are feeding the ducks!"
What the hell is going on here? I don't eat foie gras. I barely eat meat. I am all for save the planet, the animals, the planets, the air , the water. But for goodness sake since when did it become an act of cruelty to take your kid to feed the damn ducks?
Friendly Bay Area aint as friendly as I thought!
Monday 4 June 2012
Too pooped to pop
I'm exhausted. Kids asleep. 9:30 and sun just going down here in Piemonte. Gorgeous sky. Our Norwegian guest has prepared dinner and a mutual friend who is a local wine maker has just arrived. Everyone is so nice. A lovely group of people. but I am exhausted and so not up to making conversation in four languages! English, Italian, Norwegian and Ukranian - equally represented by two guests each. I can barely hold my own in ENglish these days, I feel so tired, brain dead and worn out by kids. Italian only for survival and I wouldn't attempt to survive in Norwegian (is it Norwegian or Norsk?) or Ukranian!
Thursday 31 May 2012
The Gate to Lucca
In Lucca with the family while husband does a photo shoot. Yes this is a fabulous opportunity to stay in an amazingly luxurious villa. The grounds are incredible. There are two “small” guest houses on the property as well as one ginormous mansion, two swimming pools, acres of manicured lawns. Clearly there is a “staff” though except for one discrete gardner I haven’t seen anyone.
Husband is hired to photograph the retreat that is taking place here and the girls and I are along for the ride. Partly because why not come stay at a lovely villa (that I am not required to clean). Also I knew other kids would be here so it wouldn’t be my usual stint of entertaining kids in a formal, non-kid friendly place. And partly because we’ve already left our Paris apartment and our villa is rented out so in reality, we are homeless this week. So the upside is the gorgeous location and accomodations. The downside is taking care of two kids, one of whom tends to go hysterical in new situations (as well as when she is tired, hungry, irritable, bored or just plain in a bad mood). But generally, having an almost six year old fly into an unpredicted instant rage/hysteria/meltdown as if someone had just poked a red hot pole up her butt, is pretty debilitating, especially when I have the almost three year old hanging on me as well.
So after two days, we were running low on food and it was time I schlepped the kids off the grounds in search of food. No small feat with a manual drive car where the gear shift sticks. I’m used to driving in Italy, on tiny roads, but Im not terrific at navigating and what I really dread is dragging two kids around when one is having a meltdown and screaming “carry me”. I was told that “town” is two minutes away, and there must be a local general store. At least enough to buy basica supplies.
So after a viewing of “The Aristocats” (I was thrilled to find children’s dvds, as I think I will shoot myself if I have to watch “Max and Ruby” or “Barbie Mermaid” one more time) I gathered the kids and piled into the car (no easy feat with La Petite now thinking every time we get in the car it’s a game of “No I wont get into my car seat”.
We drive down the narrow gravel road to the electric gate. Apparently Bebe had gotten used to pushing to button to open the gate with husband. Two of the other guests are standing waiting to get out. Maybe they don’t know where the button is? Bebe climbs over me, losing both boots in the process, pushes the button and nothing happens. She climbs back in, again losing both shoes, guests staring at me as usual. I get out, push button. Nothing. Push longer. Nothing.
I'm thinking ok I'm not an idiot. The button says OPEN. It must open….the guests give up and walk back up the drive. I push again. Nothing. Bebe starts to panic. I tell her to calm down. I'm singing some stupid song to calm them. i realize I should give up this expedition but also think shit. How am I going to get the car back up the narrow drive? I can't back it up and manage that hair pin turn backwards.
Then I remember that the washer and dryer had turned off when we left the house. I hadn’t stopped to investigate in my mission to get the kids out the door and into the car. Maybe a fuse blew. Oy. Perhaps the same fuse fuels the gate. Ok so I have to check the fuse box. No way will my girls be willing to hang out in the car while I hike back up the road andIi really don't want to carry them up. Because I KNOW they won't walk (source of daily meltdowns thus far – walking to and from the pool. I am so on the verge of being one of those parents who gives the “when I was little I had to walk ten miles to school. Barefoot. In the snow. Which in fact couldn’t be further from the truth since my mom drove us to school and really I lived about 5 blocks. I know. Pathetic. SLIGHTLY overprotective mom).
I glance back at the road and realize our little drive splits in two. I can back up into the second drive and somehow manage an impossible hairpin turn in our SUV and drive forwards up the road to check the fuse box.
I manage to do this and get us back up to the house. I check the fuse box and flip the only switch that is off. The washing machine turns on. Ah ha! I must have fixed it.!!Hey girls! Mama solved the mystery! Lets go! I make it a game "we solved the mystery of the gate button! lets go!"
This time I let them both ride in the passenger seat down the private drive. Isabelle is used to doing this at home and frankly I cant deal with another kid meltdown right now.
OK push the OPEN button for the gate. Nothing happens. I push again. Nothing. Are you kidding me????
Maybe it would work from the other side? There is a key pad on the other side and I know Clay got in using the code. The gate is about ten feet high with wire mesh both sides s there isno room to slip through. I'm used to slipping through the gate at mu mother’s house in California which is mostly meant to deter deer from getting in and eating her garden. This gate is sealed tight. Clearly the owners are worried about burglars.. La Petite could not even fit through. Damn it.
Now I am intent on getting us out. Mostly because I have 5.5 hours to kill before and this was going to be one of our "activities". I hook a foot into the mesh gate and pull myself up. Bebe, the ever good girl panics "No Mama! You're not supposed to!" I'm assuring her "I'm ok I'm ok" while I'm also thinking “shit I’m a lot heavier than I used to be and haven't done anything like this in awhile”.
I'm pretty sure that the gate will open from this side so I press the code and…. nothing. I press again. NOTHING! Dammit are you KIDDING ME?
Meanwhile I'm e-mailing husband on my phone. He is off photographing an all day bus trip to tour a local pasta factory and wheat field. Not his idea of a fabulous time. Of course I’m not able to use the phone with either French nor Italian cards. I must be out of minutes. So I’m frantically emailing husband while climbing over the gate and reassuring the girls that all is ok.
He writes back "It’s the blue buttons"
“I know its the blue button! I've pushed it twice and driven back and forth to the house”.
“Well its the blue button I don't know what to tell you.”
Jeez i KNOW I'm not an idiot even though I seem to play one in real life…
Now I have to somehow heave myself BACK over the fence, back the car up and drive BACK up to the house. where we find one of the guests . I know he drove out of the gate yesterday so I ask him in faulty Italian. He says push the button. Oy. I've done that twice.
He is so nice, he walks down the drive to open the gate. Pile the girls BACK into the car - both in the front seat just to minimized the time and distress of forcing them into carseats. He pushes the button and voila it opens. OF COURSE I feel like a frustrated idiot. As well as the fact that I was screaming this morning at the kids because La Petite was whining for me to carry her, refusing to walk. I had to trek the football field plus distance up to the pool to take Bebe swimming, carrying La Petite and carrying the bag of swimsuits, towels, toys and bottle (she is like an alcoholic with that milk bottle) as well as drag the giant inflatable dolphin that we have acquired as a pet.
It’s like making a trip to the beach just to go to the damn pool. Meanwhile there is a little pool JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR TO OUR GUESTHOUSE but it’s not heated.
Once out of the gate, I drove UP the hill instead of down, until I realized that we were NOT getting to the town supposedly two minutes away. Maneuvering narrow hilly roads, while trying to email husb, torn between total frustration and knowing I shouldn't email him because he is on a job.
Finally I find a spot to turn around and head down to "town" which is only two minutes from the house after all. We pull into the obvious parking lot. Our mission is to find food since we have nothing except pasta for the kiddos. Husband was excited that there is a "market" today. Well, i can tell in about thirty seconds the "market" is mostly cheap purses and crappy clothes. It's not exactly "local produce" market. I also immediately note the broken down playground - which the girls are excited to find, until we realize the swings have been taken down and the slide is broken. I convince them to push onward to find a cafe. We find one cafe which serves coffee and packaged ice creams. No way am I buying them packaged ice cream cones in land of gelato!!! I spy a sign across the street - an empty cafe that isn't obviously open. Turns out it IS open and serves gelato. And nothing else. so I can throw the idea of "lunch" out the window. I get them both a gelato – La Petite takes one lick and discards it. Bebe eats hers. I notice the scoops are about half the size of those in Piemonte and Liguria. And the town has an unfriendly feeling. I see a swastika spray painted near the parking lot and graffiti on the wall. the shop owners aren't exactly mean, but they're not friendly. Feeling victorious that we at least made it to town and tying not to feel dispirited for not having scored any food, I reward the girls by letting them choose a “prize” at the local newsstand.
We walk in, the place is so smoky I can barely breathe. Each girl chooses a Barbie doll (the only toys available and have probably been here for several years) and we skaddadle. Tomorrow maybe La Petite and I will head back down for food. Assuming we can get out of the gate.
Husband is hired to photograph the retreat that is taking place here and the girls and I are along for the ride. Partly because why not come stay at a lovely villa (that I am not required to clean). Also I knew other kids would be here so it wouldn’t be my usual stint of entertaining kids in a formal, non-kid friendly place. And partly because we’ve already left our Paris apartment and our villa is rented out so in reality, we are homeless this week. So the upside is the gorgeous location and accomodations. The downside is taking care of two kids, one of whom tends to go hysterical in new situations (as well as when she is tired, hungry, irritable, bored or just plain in a bad mood). But generally, having an almost six year old fly into an unpredicted instant rage/hysteria/meltdown as if someone had just poked a red hot pole up her butt, is pretty debilitating, especially when I have the almost three year old hanging on me as well.
So after two days, we were running low on food and it was time I schlepped the kids off the grounds in search of food. No small feat with a manual drive car where the gear shift sticks. I’m used to driving in Italy, on tiny roads, but Im not terrific at navigating and what I really dread is dragging two kids around when one is having a meltdown and screaming “carry me”. I was told that “town” is two minutes away, and there must be a local general store. At least enough to buy basica supplies.
So after a viewing of “The Aristocats” (I was thrilled to find children’s dvds, as I think I will shoot myself if I have to watch “Max and Ruby” or “Barbie Mermaid” one more time) I gathered the kids and piled into the car (no easy feat with La Petite now thinking every time we get in the car it’s a game of “No I wont get into my car seat”.
We drive down the narrow gravel road to the electric gate. Apparently Bebe had gotten used to pushing to button to open the gate with husband. Two of the other guests are standing waiting to get out. Maybe they don’t know where the button is? Bebe climbs over me, losing both boots in the process, pushes the button and nothing happens. She climbs back in, again losing both shoes, guests staring at me as usual. I get out, push button. Nothing. Push longer. Nothing.
I'm thinking ok I'm not an idiot. The button says OPEN. It must open….the guests give up and walk back up the drive. I push again. Nothing. Bebe starts to panic. I tell her to calm down. I'm singing some stupid song to calm them. i realize I should give up this expedition but also think shit. How am I going to get the car back up the narrow drive? I can't back it up and manage that hair pin turn backwards.
Then I remember that the washer and dryer had turned off when we left the house. I hadn’t stopped to investigate in my mission to get the kids out the door and into the car. Maybe a fuse blew. Oy. Perhaps the same fuse fuels the gate. Ok so I have to check the fuse box. No way will my girls be willing to hang out in the car while I hike back up the road andIi really don't want to carry them up. Because I KNOW they won't walk (source of daily meltdowns thus far – walking to and from the pool. I am so on the verge of being one of those parents who gives the “when I was little I had to walk ten miles to school. Barefoot. In the snow. Which in fact couldn’t be further from the truth since my mom drove us to school and really I lived about 5 blocks. I know. Pathetic. SLIGHTLY overprotective mom).
I glance back at the road and realize our little drive splits in two. I can back up into the second drive and somehow manage an impossible hairpin turn in our SUV and drive forwards up the road to check the fuse box.
I manage to do this and get us back up to the house. I check the fuse box and flip the only switch that is off. The washing machine turns on. Ah ha! I must have fixed it.!!Hey girls! Mama solved the mystery! Lets go! I make it a game "we solved the mystery of the gate button! lets go!"
This time I let them both ride in the passenger seat down the private drive. Isabelle is used to doing this at home and frankly I cant deal with another kid meltdown right now.
OK push the OPEN button for the gate. Nothing happens. I push again. Nothing. Are you kidding me????
Maybe it would work from the other side? There is a key pad on the other side and I know Clay got in using the code. The gate is about ten feet high with wire mesh both sides s there isno room to slip through. I'm used to slipping through the gate at mu mother’s house in California which is mostly meant to deter deer from getting in and eating her garden. This gate is sealed tight. Clearly the owners are worried about burglars.. La Petite could not even fit through. Damn it.
Now I am intent on getting us out. Mostly because I have 5.5 hours to kill before and this was going to be one of our "activities". I hook a foot into the mesh gate and pull myself up. Bebe, the ever good girl panics "No Mama! You're not supposed to!" I'm assuring her "I'm ok I'm ok" while I'm also thinking “shit I’m a lot heavier than I used to be and haven't done anything like this in awhile”.
I'm pretty sure that the gate will open from this side so I press the code and…. nothing. I press again. NOTHING! Dammit are you KIDDING ME?
Meanwhile I'm e-mailing husband on my phone. He is off photographing an all day bus trip to tour a local pasta factory and wheat field. Not his idea of a fabulous time. Of course I’m not able to use the phone with either French nor Italian cards. I must be out of minutes. So I’m frantically emailing husband while climbing over the gate and reassuring the girls that all is ok.
He writes back "It’s the blue buttons"
“I know its the blue button! I've pushed it twice and driven back and forth to the house”.
“Well its the blue button I don't know what to tell you.”
Jeez i KNOW I'm not an idiot even though I seem to play one in real life…
Now I have to somehow heave myself BACK over the fence, back the car up and drive BACK up to the house. where we find one of the guests . I know he drove out of the gate yesterday so I ask him in faulty Italian. He says push the button. Oy. I've done that twice.
He is so nice, he walks down the drive to open the gate. Pile the girls BACK into the car - both in the front seat just to minimized the time and distress of forcing them into carseats. He pushes the button and voila it opens. OF COURSE I feel like a frustrated idiot. As well as the fact that I was screaming this morning at the kids because La Petite was whining for me to carry her, refusing to walk. I had to trek the football field plus distance up to the pool to take Bebe swimming, carrying La Petite and carrying the bag of swimsuits, towels, toys and bottle (she is like an alcoholic with that milk bottle) as well as drag the giant inflatable dolphin that we have acquired as a pet.
It’s like making a trip to the beach just to go to the damn pool. Meanwhile there is a little pool JUST OUTSIDE THE DOOR TO OUR GUESTHOUSE but it’s not heated.
Once out of the gate, I drove UP the hill instead of down, until I realized that we were NOT getting to the town supposedly two minutes away. Maneuvering narrow hilly roads, while trying to email husb, torn between total frustration and knowing I shouldn't email him because he is on a job.
Finally I find a spot to turn around and head down to "town" which is only two minutes from the house after all. We pull into the obvious parking lot. Our mission is to find food since we have nothing except pasta for the kiddos. Husband was excited that there is a "market" today. Well, i can tell in about thirty seconds the "market" is mostly cheap purses and crappy clothes. It's not exactly "local produce" market. I also immediately note the broken down playground - which the girls are excited to find, until we realize the swings have been taken down and the slide is broken. I convince them to push onward to find a cafe. We find one cafe which serves coffee and packaged ice creams. No way am I buying them packaged ice cream cones in land of gelato!!! I spy a sign across the street - an empty cafe that isn't obviously open. Turns out it IS open and serves gelato. And nothing else. so I can throw the idea of "lunch" out the window. I get them both a gelato – La Petite takes one lick and discards it. Bebe eats hers. I notice the scoops are about half the size of those in Piemonte and Liguria. And the town has an unfriendly feeling. I see a swastika spray painted near the parking lot and graffiti on the wall. the shop owners aren't exactly mean, but they're not friendly. Feeling victorious that we at least made it to town and tying not to feel dispirited for not having scored any food, I reward the girls by letting them choose a “prize” at the local newsstand.
We walk in, the place is so smoky I can barely breathe. Each girl chooses a Barbie doll (the only toys available and have probably been here for several years) and we skaddadle. Tomorrow maybe La Petite and I will head back down for food. Assuming we can get out of the gate.
Wednesday 18 April 2012
Montgenevre
Am in a little bit of heaven, skiing in Montgenevre.
Our departure from Paris for Vacances Scolaires (school break ) was delayed two days because hubbie had to work. So instead of me taking the train solo (sans enfants – a blissful five hours of alone time to read and write), we all squashed into the car and drove to Italy. We’ve talked our fabulous babysitter (really a professional saxophone player but for some reason agrees to babysit for us) into coming on this trip (true, escaping Paris to a villa in Italian countryside has it’s appeal. But it does require spending the vacation with the Petites).
I had been DREADING this since all previous car trips (over past six years) as well as train and air trips to Italy have been HELL. Had warned sitter it might be squashed and screamy and then today - perfect! NO traffic. Rainy so not easy driving for Clay but Bebe spent ENTIRE DRIVE glued to the new Barbie movie we bought last night (that was $10 well spent!) I think she watched it four times during the drive. Petite wasn't as easy but did a great job reading books (making up stories out loud to herself ) asking for "half a croissant mama" and sucking on her bottle - which resulted in no less than four URGENT stops for her to pee (but bythe time we stopped of course she didn't have to go and then wet her pants later but cest la vie).
We pretty much had to drag Bebe out of the car at the rest stop bc she was glued to Barbie (second viewing).. They did amazingy! (except for Petite holding it and then peeing on the restaurant floor , soaking her boots and then having to go barefoot till back in the car. oh well. the boots were on sale for 10 euro and we've gotten a ton of use out of them. They are white snow boots that look like 60s Go Go boots ESPECIALY paired with the purple polyester Dora nightgown Petite insists on wearing every day. She looks like a60s Hipster. I did buy two more of the nightgowns so yes, we can wear a clean one every day…she's like one of those weird fashion freaks who only wears ONE style every day and has a closet full of ten of the same dresses…)
ANYWAY the drive went insanely easy. Towards the last twenty minutes Petite was asking "where are we going?" like "Remind me again what the plan is?"
We arrived at this ski town with amazing mountains but is virtually shut down for the season. Seriously we are the only guests at the hotel which is fab bc we don't have to worry about the noise the girls make (i.e. our downstairs neighbors in Paris freaking out bc Petite, who weighs all of two pounds, runs to the toilet at 7am). We have a huge quad room and got sitter has a single which is also huge AND she has a view of the slopes (damn!) Bebe was freaked out at first - being in new place, where are we? and Petite was calling out "i thought we were going to ITALY / this is not ITALY!" meaning this is not our villa and scoffing at our new digs until we saw the bedroom - which basically looks like a quad dorm room but the girls were thrilled and each staked out their own beds. Bebe promptly setting up her dolls, suitcase and arranging her belongings and feeling VERY independent bc she could walk the ten feet down the hall alone to "visit" the sitter’s room. She packed up a bag and told us she was off to "visit" the sitter. Petite hopped onto her bed, crawled under the covers and said goodnight. TOO cute.
Then hubbie and I went out for a walk ALONE while the girls set up camp in the sitter’s room feeling very "grown up" that they were "visiting" her.
Looks like a cute ski town but is totally closing up for the season . we must be the last guests and we were a bit desperate to find somewhere to feed the kiddos tonight since turns out everything is shut down. but one place was still open and served up a mountain of fries and spaghetti for their girls (a balanced diet is not in the cards right now). Petite strolled into the restaurant, took off her coat and announced "this place smells like vagina!”. Twice. We couldn't help but bust out laughing. WHERE she got that from I have no idea but of course laughing only caused her to repeat it. Luckily we were the only guests and luckily even still we aren't in English speaking country. Later she added "And it smells like PENIS." Again not sure WHERE she got this from but I had to choke back my wine before spitting it all over the table.
She is a natural comedian and if I don’t keep tabs on her I think she might strip off her purple polyester nightgown and danceon the table in her go go boots bc clearly she will do anything for a laugh.
Hubbie’s huge gift to me -- a key to my very own room. Since the nlace is emty he talked the owner into giving us an extra room (so yes, we have three rooms and you would think one of them would be for the kids but instead, we take turns sleeping with the kids and sleeping in our own room which feels like pure luxury). I was so excited to get some sleep that I turned down any offer of company (who would watch the kids? ) grabbed the key and headed straight for my own bed in my own room with a locked door.
Seriously, my little one starts waking up about one hour after I turn in. From then on it’s musical beds depending on who has peed where and when , what bed is dry and whether I can convince the little one to stay asleep without lying horizontally across me. She is darling, a joyful little sprite, a true ethereal spirit but she wants to sleep "on mama" and Mama is a light sleeper who needs more than two hours consecutive sleep. I’ve even given in to trying to take a nap when I’ve had some babysitting but hearing the little ones yelping right outside my door as well as knowing they might barge in any moment does NOT make for a restful sleep.
This is the first time I’ve been in bed in a quiet room of my own with no chance of hearing someone crying out for "i want MY MAMA!!!" in year
Our departure from Paris for Vacances Scolaires (school break ) was delayed two days because hubbie had to work. So instead of me taking the train solo (sans enfants – a blissful five hours of alone time to read and write), we all squashed into the car and drove to Italy. We’ve talked our fabulous babysitter (really a professional saxophone player but for some reason agrees to babysit for us) into coming on this trip (true, escaping Paris to a villa in Italian countryside has it’s appeal. But it does require spending the vacation with the Petites).
I had been DREADING this since all previous car trips (over past six years) as well as train and air trips to Italy have been HELL. Had warned sitter it might be squashed and screamy and then today - perfect! NO traffic. Rainy so not easy driving for Clay but Bebe spent ENTIRE DRIVE glued to the new Barbie movie we bought last night (that was $10 well spent!) I think she watched it four times during the drive. Petite wasn't as easy but did a great job reading books (making up stories out loud to herself ) asking for "half a croissant mama" and sucking on her bottle - which resulted in no less than four URGENT stops for her to pee (but bythe time we stopped of course she didn't have to go and then wet her pants later but cest la vie).
We pretty much had to drag Bebe out of the car at the rest stop bc she was glued to Barbie (second viewing).. They did amazingy! (except for Petite holding it and then peeing on the restaurant floor , soaking her boots and then having to go barefoot till back in the car. oh well. the boots were on sale for 10 euro and we've gotten a ton of use out of them. They are white snow boots that look like 60s Go Go boots ESPECIALY paired with the purple polyester Dora nightgown Petite insists on wearing every day. She looks like a60s Hipster. I did buy two more of the nightgowns so yes, we can wear a clean one every day…she's like one of those weird fashion freaks who only wears ONE style every day and has a closet full of ten of the same dresses…)
ANYWAY the drive went insanely easy. Towards the last twenty minutes Petite was asking "where are we going?" like "Remind me again what the plan is?"
We arrived at this ski town with amazing mountains but is virtually shut down for the season. Seriously we are the only guests at the hotel which is fab bc we don't have to worry about the noise the girls make (i.e. our downstairs neighbors in Paris freaking out bc Petite, who weighs all of two pounds, runs to the toilet at 7am). We have a huge quad room and got sitter has a single which is also huge AND she has a view of the slopes (damn!) Bebe was freaked out at first - being in new place, where are we? and Petite was calling out "i thought we were going to ITALY / this is not ITALY!" meaning this is not our villa and scoffing at our new digs until we saw the bedroom - which basically looks like a quad dorm room but the girls were thrilled and each staked out their own beds. Bebe promptly setting up her dolls, suitcase and arranging her belongings and feeling VERY independent bc she could walk the ten feet down the hall alone to "visit" the sitter’s room. She packed up a bag and told us she was off to "visit" the sitter. Petite hopped onto her bed, crawled under the covers and said goodnight. TOO cute.
Then hubbie and I went out for a walk ALONE while the girls set up camp in the sitter’s room feeling very "grown up" that they were "visiting" her.
Looks like a cute ski town but is totally closing up for the season . we must be the last guests and we were a bit desperate to find somewhere to feed the kiddos tonight since turns out everything is shut down. but one place was still open and served up a mountain of fries and spaghetti for their girls (a balanced diet is not in the cards right now). Petite strolled into the restaurant, took off her coat and announced "this place smells like vagina!”. Twice. We couldn't help but bust out laughing. WHERE she got that from I have no idea but of course laughing only caused her to repeat it. Luckily we were the only guests and luckily even still we aren't in English speaking country. Later she added "And it smells like PENIS." Again not sure WHERE she got this from but I had to choke back my wine before spitting it all over the table.
She is a natural comedian and if I don’t keep tabs on her I think she might strip off her purple polyester nightgown and danceon the table in her go go boots bc clearly she will do anything for a laugh.
Hubbie’s huge gift to me -- a key to my very own room. Since the nlace is emty he talked the owner into giving us an extra room (so yes, we have three rooms and you would think one of them would be for the kids but instead, we take turns sleeping with the kids and sleeping in our own room which feels like pure luxury). I was so excited to get some sleep that I turned down any offer of company (who would watch the kids? ) grabbed the key and headed straight for my own bed in my own room with a locked door.
Seriously, my little one starts waking up about one hour after I turn in. From then on it’s musical beds depending on who has peed where and when , what bed is dry and whether I can convince the little one to stay asleep without lying horizontally across me. She is darling, a joyful little sprite, a true ethereal spirit but she wants to sleep "on mama" and Mama is a light sleeper who needs more than two hours consecutive sleep. I’ve even given in to trying to take a nap when I’ve had some babysitting but hearing the little ones yelping right outside my door as well as knowing they might barge in any moment does NOT make for a restful sleep.
This is the first time I’ve been in bed in a quiet room of my own with no chance of hearing someone crying out for "i want MY MAMA!!!" in year
Tuesday 13 March 2012
Doggie Diner
It is finally sunny out! Husband has the kids and I'm sitting in an outdoor cafe. There are two Jack Russells at the table next to me. Which is SO normal here, right? Not only that but the waiter comes up to hand them the bill (the owners, not the dogs) and the dogs lunge at him (luckily they are on leashes), barking and attempt to bite him. The waiter jumps back and then laughs and comments on how surprised he is that the dogs are yapping at him because he has owned Jack Russells and has such a good "rapport" with them generally. NO ONE seems miffed by the fact that the dogs have taken over that corner of the cafe. Or that they almost bit the waiter. It's a matter of course. I thought the waiter was going to apologize for upsetting the dogs!
What makes this so much more unbelievable to me is that when I take my kids to a cafe (which I do NOT since Bebe has been past baby stage), my kids are scowled at, and, if one of them dares drop a spoon on the floor I'm sure we are about to be kicked out.
That's the French. Bring your dogs, leave your kids at home.
What makes this so much more unbelievable to me is that when I take my kids to a cafe (which I do NOT since Bebe has been past baby stage), my kids are scowled at, and, if one of them dares drop a spoon on the floor I'm sure we are about to be kicked out.
That's the French. Bring your dogs, leave your kids at home.
Mean Minnie
This weekend we took the kids to Disneyland Paris. Husband has fond memories of going with his dad and he has been dying to take Bebe since she was 2. I’ve been able to delay this ordeal (because really our girls don't even know the Disney stuff or care. Except for princesses and frankly they'd be happy to just go somewhere and see princess crap).
Knowing it’s a pricey adventure, months ago, I signed up for every website notification service available, waiting to spot a promotional deal on tickets.
Another family asked us to go last weekend and, even though I couldn’t find any promotions online, (or ticket prices), I figured maybe we’d score the child free with purchase of adult ticket – we’ve seen ads plastered all over the metros all winter.
Even though Disney is only about 30 minutes from our apartment, our kids were whining “are we there yet?” the entire ride. We finally arrive, for out fifteen euros to park miles away. We exit the car and embark on the journey towards the park entrance. THREE moving sidewalks to get to the end of the parking lot! Another mile till we hit security. Bebe starts to freak out “Are we going to the airport?” which is her idea of hell. At the same time, she is already entranced by the Princess vending machines outside the parking lot! We could've stopped there, called it a day and saved about $300. Oy. Through security and then we are only at the entrance to "the village". Another mile, the girls asking where are we going and more importantly WHY are we going, since they still have no idea what “Disneyland” is (I'm wondering the same thing) and we finally find the line to buy tickets. I do not understand how so many people can AFFORD to go to Disneyland. As I said, the website was impossible to navigate and all of the promos I had seen led me to believe it would be about 24 euros each. Tickets are 59 euros each! (Thank god Miss Pudding is free) but at that point we aren’t not going to go in!
SO we cough up a small fortune and enter. All goes ok, Bebe nods at the Disney "castle" (but I have to say, the kid has grown up seeing so many chateau sprinkled all over, visiting chateau gardens on the weekend as a playground spot that unless Cinderella walks out and greets us , herself, it is just another "castle" (and this time fake) to her. Mostly our girls are excited to meet up with their friends. We could have saved chunk of change and had a playdate in a parking lot an they would have been happy.
All goes surprisingly well, no meltdowns until lunch. Our friends (who were regular visitors courtesy of a huge company discount on tickets) suggest we eat at the Cowboy Grill - one of the Disney eateries where the characters join you for lunch. Hey, we are all the way here and the whole point is for the kids to see the characters - though, frankly, my kids don't know much about Mickey and the crowd. Again, we plunk down a small fortune for lunch (a pre fixe menu you pay a huge premium for the privilege of dining with Mickey and his cronies).
Fortunately, the place is relatively empty so I am sure our group of five girls will get plenty of face time with the Disney gang. Amped up and excited all five girls dash over to where they see Mickey and Minnie mouse hanging out. Two minutes later they come back, upset and fighting back tears. "Minnie Mouse was mean to us! She told us to go away!"
"Yeah, mom we went up to her and she went like this!" Bebe put her hand up making a “stop” gesture.
Minnie Mouse gave our kids The Hand? What's next - the finger? Are you kidding me?
The girls rally and head off, en masse, to say hello to Daffy Duck, the two littlest ones following in the wake of the older girls.
They come running back. "Daffy Duck is mean too!" He shook his finger at us and pointed for us to go away!"
Give me a break! I understand these characters may not want to be swarmed with kids but honestly the place is practically empty. The whole point of this "restaurant" is to hang out with the characters! It's Disneyland for goodness sake. Only in France would Minnie Mouse be a bitch.
The girls sat at our table, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their adored Minnie Mouse, who was taking her time circulating the room. She visits every table except ours. I can’t believe I’m having to hold kids back and keep them calmly entertained at Disneyland. The other mom I was with, a tough Swiss lady, is about to go tell off Minnie Mouse when she finally comes over to our table.
Minnie makes a half assed attempt at deigning us with her presence. Luckily , the Disney Country Band starts up and a bunch more characters come out and start rocking out to Happy Birthday at the table next to us.
Even in Disneyland, the Parisian snideness seeps in. Luckiily, this was a one and only Paris Disney trip for us.
In the car, on the way home, Bebe pipes up, "Daddy, when you were little was Minnie Mouse mean?" So this is my kid's memory of Disneyland.
Knowing it’s a pricey adventure, months ago, I signed up for every website notification service available, waiting to spot a promotional deal on tickets.
Another family asked us to go last weekend and, even though I couldn’t find any promotions online, (or ticket prices), I figured maybe we’d score the child free with purchase of adult ticket – we’ve seen ads plastered all over the metros all winter.
Even though Disney is only about 30 minutes from our apartment, our kids were whining “are we there yet?” the entire ride. We finally arrive, for out fifteen euros to park miles away. We exit the car and embark on the journey towards the park entrance. THREE moving sidewalks to get to the end of the parking lot! Another mile till we hit security. Bebe starts to freak out “Are we going to the airport?” which is her idea of hell. At the same time, she is already entranced by the Princess vending machines outside the parking lot! We could've stopped there, called it a day and saved about $300. Oy. Through security and then we are only at the entrance to "the village". Another mile, the girls asking where are we going and more importantly WHY are we going, since they still have no idea what “Disneyland” is (I'm wondering the same thing) and we finally find the line to buy tickets. I do not understand how so many people can AFFORD to go to Disneyland. As I said, the website was impossible to navigate and all of the promos I had seen led me to believe it would be about 24 euros each. Tickets are 59 euros each! (Thank god Miss Pudding is free) but at that point we aren’t not going to go in!
SO we cough up a small fortune and enter. All goes ok, Bebe nods at the Disney "castle" (but I have to say, the kid has grown up seeing so many chateau sprinkled all over, visiting chateau gardens on the weekend as a playground spot that unless Cinderella walks out and greets us , herself, it is just another "castle" (and this time fake) to her. Mostly our girls are excited to meet up with their friends. We could have saved chunk of change and had a playdate in a parking lot an they would have been happy.
All goes surprisingly well, no meltdowns until lunch. Our friends (who were regular visitors courtesy of a huge company discount on tickets) suggest we eat at the Cowboy Grill - one of the Disney eateries where the characters join you for lunch. Hey, we are all the way here and the whole point is for the kids to see the characters - though, frankly, my kids don't know much about Mickey and the crowd. Again, we plunk down a small fortune for lunch (a pre fixe menu you pay a huge premium for the privilege of dining with Mickey and his cronies).
Fortunately, the place is relatively empty so I am sure our group of five girls will get plenty of face time with the Disney gang. Amped up and excited all five girls dash over to where they see Mickey and Minnie mouse hanging out. Two minutes later they come back, upset and fighting back tears. "Minnie Mouse was mean to us! She told us to go away!"
"Yeah, mom we went up to her and she went like this!" Bebe put her hand up making a “stop” gesture.
Minnie Mouse gave our kids The Hand? What's next - the finger? Are you kidding me?
The girls rally and head off, en masse, to say hello to Daffy Duck, the two littlest ones following in the wake of the older girls.
They come running back. "Daffy Duck is mean too!" He shook his finger at us and pointed for us to go away!"
Give me a break! I understand these characters may not want to be swarmed with kids but honestly the place is practically empty. The whole point of this "restaurant" is to hang out with the characters! It's Disneyland for goodness sake. Only in France would Minnie Mouse be a bitch.
The girls sat at our table, anxiously awaiting the arrival of their adored Minnie Mouse, who was taking her time circulating the room. She visits every table except ours. I can’t believe I’m having to hold kids back and keep them calmly entertained at Disneyland. The other mom I was with, a tough Swiss lady, is about to go tell off Minnie Mouse when she finally comes over to our table.
Minnie makes a half assed attempt at deigning us with her presence. Luckily , the Disney Country Band starts up and a bunch more characters come out and start rocking out to Happy Birthday at the table next to us.
Even in Disneyland, the Parisian snideness seeps in. Luckiily, this was a one and only Paris Disney trip for us.
In the car, on the way home, Bebe pipes up, "Daddy, when you were little was Minnie Mouse mean?" So this is my kid's memory of Disneyland.
Saturday 18 February 2012
Carnavale
We are back in Bonvicino! Arrived yesterday after a hellish journey (more on that later). Today, blue skies and lots of snow. Lunch with good friends (pasta hand made by grandma, eggs from the chickens outside, home grown salad and home made vino!) The girls ate as if they had been starved for months. Then off to Carnavale in Dogliani - costumes and confetti, biscotti for the children. Juggler and balloon lady (of course they are friends of friends).
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