I love Paris in the springtime….

You’ll notice that there are no songs that start “I love Paris in November when it’s freezing and raining and I’m accompanied by two sick, whiny kids… ”  There’s a good reason for that.

Paris was fantastic.  Paris was awful.  Paris was tons of fun.  Paris was an exercise in torture.  We had a great time.  We had a lot of tears.  Not all of them were mine.  Let’s get to the pics, shall we?

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When you see a picture like this, know the photographer had to climb 300 steps to get it.  Or, in this case, 300 steps while dragging an indignant four-year-old behind him.

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We started our journey at 3:30, only a half hour late.  After a few stressful wrong turns on the way to the airport, we sailed through check in and security and got to the gate just in time to start boarding.  So far, so good.

We survived the Paris metro with children, luggage, and a stroller and found our apartment building.  Climbed 3 flights of spiral stairs with previously mentioned children and luggage to find out we’re on the wrong side of the building – back down and up another 3 flights and finally we were “home”.

We ate (a very buttery) lunch, crashed for a couple of hours, then went out exploring.  Bought necessities like pain au chocolat and diapers, went home to read our guidebooks and plan the next big day.  Discovered (now that we had napped and were capable of actually seeing these things) that the entire apartment was white.  White couches.  White rug.  White upholstered dining room chairs.  White bedding and towels. White white white.  Did I mention we brought the kids on this trip?

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Who needs the Louvre?  Paris has playgrounds everywhere.  As far as the kids were concerned, we should have just spent the week bouncing from one park to the next. (The fact that we can do that here, for free, was completely lost on them.) Gotta love this one, though.  Location location location.

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Day one we dragged ourselves out into the cold and walked straight to Notre Dame.  Violet has not seen the Disney movie, but she has read the book and was determined to climb to the top of the belfry to look for Quasimodo and the gargoyles.  I volunteered to keep Jonas company down on the ground, and we hung out and ate bread and cheese and fed some pigeons while they went on their hunchback hunt.  (In case any of you considering climbing the 300 stairs to find him, I will just tell you this now – he’s not up there.  And it can be a bit of a disappointment, no matter how well you were prepped.  Also?  The gargoyles don’t actually talk or move around or anything. I know, I know.  Bummer.)

After the church we walked along the Seine till we found a playground and outdoor sculpture garden.  Our guidebook specifically said it was ok for kids to touch/climb on the sculptures, so Violet made the most of it –

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“I just LOVE art!”

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After absorbing all that culture we decided the only thing to do was walk down the Champs Elysees and eat chocolate and shop.  One can’t live off art alone.

A candy shop, a bakery, and the Disney Store later we stumbled upon a winter wonderland.

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Maybe my favorite part of the trip.  We came back three times.

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We had the Arc behind us, the Concorde in front, and the streets were lined with little lit-up booths selling stuff from all over the world.  Jewelry and hand knits and those little nesting dolls and incredibly expensive hot chocolate.  I bought the kids a gummy worm that had to be three feet long (and cost me five bucks.  We won’t talk about that.)  Some were still setting up, so I guess it was day one of the Christmas market.  It was beautiful.  The kids loved the lights, loved the (overpriced) candy, loved the big slide they had set up there.   It was magic.

We traveled on Wednesdays, and had six full days in Paris in between.  We went to the Louvre, the Musee d’ Orsay, the Pompidou center, and one magical afternoon I went to the Musee Picasso alone.  (ALONE!  Man, it was sweeeeeet.) We went to the Jardin d’ Acclimation (Paris’s oldes amusement park – some little rides, lots of playgrounds, some animals, lots of junk food.) and the Cite des Enfants (kid’s museum), both of which I would highly, HIGHLY recommend if you are in the city with kids.  We exposed the kids to lots of art, some that made them sad –

Dat’s a sad, sad man!  I make a sad face like dat sad man.

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Some that made them cross-eyed –

This photo is in focus, it’s the painting that’s blurry.  When asked how it made her feel, Violet answered…

… It feels like my eyes are like this! (We have a video of this conversation that’s better than the pictures, but I have enough going on here that dealing with YouTube is just not going to happen today.  Maybe this weekend I’ll have a post of videos.)

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We took a ride on the world’s most expensive (but possibly most beautiful) Ferris wheel –

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No, I can’t explain the face Jonas is making here.

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We acted like smartasses out in public –

It took three tries before I got a shot of both of them doing this at the same time.  How hard is it to put your face in your hand and hold still?

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We ate so many ham and cheese crepes, ham and cheese baguettes, ham and cheese quiches that I have banned pork products from the house until Christmas.  (No pictures of the ham and cheese fest, thankfully.  I’m not sure I could even look a baguette in the face right now.)

We consumed mass quantities of Nutella, (or, in Jonas-ese, “Peanutella”) pain au chocolat, chocolate mousse, hot chocolate, chocolate caramels, chocolate tarts, and chocolate cake. (I have no pictures of this, either, but only because it was all devoured too quickly to capture on film.  Mmmmm, chocolate.)

We burned off all the cheese, chocolate, and butter by walking all over town.   Never have I walked so far.  We also did crazy things like decide that the line for the elevator is too long, so we’ll just WALK UP THE STAIRS ON THE EIFFEL TOWER. Yeah.

Here we are, all smily and happy because we haven’t gotten to the tower yet.  After the climb we looked a lot less peppy.

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We walked up and down the Champs Elysees, trying in vain to get a picture of ourselves with the Arc behind us (I’m using the words “we” and “ourselves”, but I’m talking about Joe.  He took my Boobah out in the middle of the busiest road in Paris (there’s a little median he was standing on – perfectly safe, I’m sure) to try and get a picture of them with the Arc de Triomphe behind them.  Unfortunately, he failed to consider the sheer size of their giant heads….  )

It’s back there.  No really, it’s right there!

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He finally gave up and took these two from the side of the street (you know, the sidewalk?  Crazy, I know.) and I think they are the best pics of kids in front of famous stuff we’ve taken so far…

Things to note: the Arc de Triomphe in the background, just how much traffic there is on that road that Joe was just standing in the middle of with my baby, Violet’s hat that we had to go out and buy her after she lost the one we packed.  We found it when we got home – still in the car in long term parking.

Things to note: Arc de Triomphe, cold red nose, fabulous soft hand-knit hat.  Nice that someone appreciates the stuff I make for them.

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The verdict: Paris is a great city for kids.  There are parks everywhere.  There are museums just for kids.  The food is kid-friendly (unlike, say, Germany – where my kids were like “Sauer-WHAT?”), the Eiffel tower is thrilling, the city is clean, the people are friendly.  You get plenty of opportunities to take pictures of your kids in front of famous landmarks (good for blogging purposes.)

Stroller in Paris – kind of a pain in the butt, but oh so necessary for a two year old who still takes two hour naps every afternoon.

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The verdict, part deux: Spending thousands of dollars to take small children to Paris is crazy.  When we were at a park they were having tons of fun.  When we tried to see some more grown-up stuff we got whining, crying, and “I’m all museumed OUT!  Let’s GO!”  They loved the children’s museum, hated walking along the Seine (well, it was kind of cold).  Basically, they had fun when we were doing stuff we could do at home for free (park? coloring? eating nutella? Why did we fly to a different country for this?) and were huge pains in my butt when we tried to see/do anything that we could only see/do there.  In the end, we had fun…. but have decided to cancel our trip to Prague.  Maybe Lego-Land is the way to go instead. 😉

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On the other hand – surely all the expense and aggravation was worth it for this photo alone. Forget those Arc ones, this is the winner for “stick the kids in front of something famous and take a picture.”  Can you say Christmas cards?

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Man, I could go for a chocolate crepe right about now….

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Au revoir!

Tonight, in the middle of the night, we pack the kids in the car and set off for Paris.  (Our flight leaves from Rome at 7am.  That means leaving here at 3am.  We think convinient flight times are for pansies.)

We’ll be there for a full week, getting home the day before Thanksgiving.  I’ll have internet access, but maybe no time or energy for posting (all those baguettes aren’t going to eat themselves.  I’ll be busy, people!)  Everyone be well, have fun planning your Thanksgiving feasts, (may I make a suggestion? ) and I’ll be back in a week with lots of pics of us looking cold. 🙂

(And to you gamers out there – GET SOME SLEEP!  Geez!)

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For my brother.

Aaron,

I figured I had all day to write this, because you don’t wake up until after the kids go to bed.  Imagine my surprise when you called today, at 6am your time.  You truly are insane.  My birthday wish for you is that you would get some sleep. 🙂

You were my bud, my cohort.  The second victim running from the evil that was little Suz (man, you can get away with a lot when you have big blue eyes.) I remember riding bikes to school, I remember your crazy Hawaiian shirt (which mom still has, btw, if you’re feeling tropical.) I remember playing freeze tag out front, and the streetlight that could zap you.

You were, are, and always will be my favorite person to watch scary movies with.  Joe has gotten better, but he’s still no you.  He’ll play along for a few minutes, then just start with the “Just watch it!  It’s not going to come out of the screen and get you! Just open  your eyes!”  I haven’ t watched a horror movie in years, because I have nobody to narrate it for me.

I think about your seaweed story every time I’m on a beach.  Not sure if I should be thanking you for that one.

I remember you “jump, shake your booty”ing when I got the guard to call your name.  I remember playing basketball out in the driveway, and attempting to play racquetball at the park.  I’ll never forget Mom telling me she heard me coming in at 4am, and me thinking she was crazy because I’d been home before twelve, and her thinking I was crazy for lying when she HEARD me, and then the next day having that hostess tell me she’d been out with you till past three.  Thanks for that.  Of course, I’ll also never forget the look on your face when you realized that Suz and I weren’t consolidating so you could have the extra room, we were planning on using it for our clothes.  So I guess we’re even.

You introduced DB’s french silk pie to me, and for that I’ll be forever grateful.

I love you and miss you.  Hope you’re (awake and) having a great birthday.  Have fun with your game, you big dork. 🙂

-Jenn

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For my sister.

Suz,

Our relationship got off to a rocky start.  “It’s nine-o-clock!  You have to come home now!” “Mom said I could go, too!” And who could forget – “I have NO idea what you’re talking about.”  You were evil.

All that changed after we had that little talk when you turned 13 (Suz. You’re a teenager now.  From now on, you’re on OUR side, not THEIRS.  If we are doing something we shouldn’t, you are to help us get away with it, not run and tell.)  You came over to the dark side and never looked back.

For all our Blockbuster/Pizza Hut (pan with extra cheese. Mmmmm.) nights.  For the years of sharing rooms.  For all the shopping, the stealing of shoes (You GAVE those to me!), the perfecting of the two-person egg sandwich making team.  For The Ring (seven days…. ) and working together at the Steakhouse and that terrible, terrible meal in Paris (“You ask for the pork rib?  I give you the pork ass!”)  For being the best, coolest, most fun Aunt to my kids, even when they’re trashing your house/terrorizing your pets/breaking your TV.  For spoiling me rotten (my hair has never looked so shiny!)  For all of that and more, I present you with this –

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You can tell I reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaallly love you because I A) went to the trouble to make the fan club shirts for the kids, B) went ahead and documented the fact that I can’t draw a Z (there you go, internet.  Have a field day.  Honest to God – the entire time I was drawing it I was thinking “This doesn’t look right.  This looks like an S.  I must be making it too curvy.  Needs harder angles.”  Then I was done and really looked at it and thought “Or, it could be backwards.  Fantastic.”) C) I’m using the video where Jonas screws up and loses it.  Really, it’s more entertaining than when he got it just right.

I hope you have a wonderful, fantastic, phenomenal birthday.  I know nothing could top last year’s present (YOUR FAVORITE!), but I hope you have fun with this year’s. 😉

Love you sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much, my lovely little sister. Happy Birthday.

-Jenn

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Random acts of Hooliganism

* I was in the kitchen, and didn’t see what happened.  But from the living room I heard –

Whack! Thud!

Jonas: OW!

Violet: You had that coming to you.

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* Last night around 11:30 (three and a half hours after bedtime), Jonas wandered out into the living room.  He was wearing red high-top Converse over his footie pajamas, and wanted me to help him tie them.

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* This morning after teeth brushing, Jonas came in and let me know that he had “cleaned up the sink ALL BY MYSELF!”  I went in there to find 11 wipes and about a half a tube of toothpaste in the sink, and a puddle the size of a wading pool on the floor.  He’s so helpful.

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I know there’s more.  These are my children we’re talking about!  They have no doubt unleashed 72 acts of hooliganism on me since waking me up at 7:15 this morning (thanks for letting Mommy sleep in, guys!)  The fact that I can’t come up with any more examples should not be seen as evidence of good behavior, only as evidence that my brain is fried.

I wonder who’s responsible for that?

I will leave you all with this – yesterday’s answer to “It’s very chilly outside.  Go put on park clothes that are good for playing, and will also keep you warm.”

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Awesome.

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Good thing he’s so cute

Honestly, it’s the only explanation for how he’s survived this long.

Last night, about 30 seconds after I closed his door, I heard the big cry.  The big “I’M IN PAIN” cry.  I hustle in there to find him holding a sippy cup in one hand, his forehead in the other.

Me: What happened, my Boobah?

Jonas: I just frew up dis cup and it fell on my FACE and I just yelled OW! and den I started CWYING!

Me: So.. you threw a heavy, full cup up in the air while you were lying on your back?

Jonas: YES!  And it HIT ME IN DA FACE!

Me: (barely managed to “kiss da boo boo” and get out of there before I started laughing.)

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He paid me back for my callus attitude by waking up four times last night.  Four. Times.  When he was a newborn, he used to wake me up three times a night.  Four times is unacceptable.

Especially considering the completely ridiculous reasons.  I can not even for a second remember the first two, (It’s kind of a miracle if the kids can manage to wake me up during my first two hours of sleep.  To expect me to remember what happened is totally unrealistic.) but at 3am he came in crying that he couldn’t find his binky. (Yes – dirty little secret time.  My almost three year old still uses a binky.  Deal with it.)

I got up, wandered into his room, started searching for the damn bink.  Pulled all 47 stuffed animals out of his bed.  Shook out his blanket.  Checked under his pillow.  Got down on all fours to look under the bed.  Finally told him I’d get him a new one, which is when he started screaming that he just “WANTS THE BLUE ONE!  WHERE’S MY BLUE BINKY?!”

It was about then that I noticed it.  Still clipped to his shirt. I think it’s pretty impressive that I didn’t strangle him on the spot.

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At 6am he showed up, sobbing, telling me he couldn’t find his “gween (mumble mumble sounds like…) fwoggy.”  “I LOST MY GWEEN (something something could be… ) FWOGGY!  WHERE IS IT? I JUST LOOOOOSED IT!”

I put him in my bed, go to his room, collect the green frog, (which, btw, was on the top of the pile of animals) head back to bed. I pitch it at him, and collapse face down and fall back asleep.  I’m woken back up 3 seconds later by a frog hitting me on the back of the head.

“NO!  MY GWEEEEEEEN (something mumble crying kid w/ binky honestly can’t understand wtf he’s trying to say)”

I tell him that I can’t understand him with the binky, and while he’s crying.  He spits it out and veeeery carefully enunciates…

“I.  Lost.  My.  Green.  Smartie.”

Apparently, he was dreaming about candy.  When he woke up and it wasn’t still there, he came into my room in a rage.  The rest of the story you already know.

The next hour passed with him dozing off, then waking up sobbing about the smartie, then dozing off, then waking up and begging me to get him a new green smartie, because “gween smaaaaties are my vewy favowite candy in da whole wide WORLD!”, dozing off, repeat repeat re-freaking-peat.

Good thing he’s so cute.

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Yes we DID!

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It’s a new day, people.  I took the kids with me to vote (overseas translation – I took the kids with me to fax our ballots) and we talked and talked about it.  Last night when I put Violet to bed I told her to have sweet dreams, that we’d have a new president tomorrow.  When we woke up and turned on the TV and saw that Obama had won, she turned to me and said –

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“Mom!  My dreams came true!”

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I know exactly how she feels.

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Guest Blogger

Joe is in Corsica for two weeks, which based on these Google Image search results seems like a pretty sweet assignment.  Of course, NATO has managed to suck all the fun out of it by sticking them in French barracks, feeding them crap food, and not letting them leave the base for any reason.  His woe-is-me texts have been so entertaining, I’ve decided to share the highlights with you readers.  Please, enjoy my lovely husband’s misfortune.

From the first night there –

Dinner was couscous with hotdog.  Awesome.

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And the next morning –

Bread and plain yogurt for breakfast. No cups so we drank coffee from bowls. No toilet paper.  Six people in my room, but only one key. Corsica supposed to be beautiful, but I can’t tell from here.

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Around then I started harassing him for a lunch update.  He had heard that the food would be bad, (so very industriously packed 5 boxes of Cheese-its in his luggage.  I’m sure that’ll get him through these two weeks, no problem) but who could’ve anticipated this level of badness?  Couscous and hot dog?  Seriously?  This is some kind of record breakingly bad food right here.  Lunch did not disappoint –

Lunch was rare hamburger and lots and LOTS of mashed potatoes. And wine.

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It’s nice that they’re providing them with such well balanced meals.  Does wine count as a veggie?  Other complaints include the fact that they shipped them out there on Sunday for an exercise that starts Thursday, there are six people in his room but one key, the bathroom is down the hall, and there is no toilet paper or hot water.

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Isn’t it nice for him?  To have this cushy NATO job where he gets to travel to fabulous, exciting places?  😉

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Back at home, I am dealing with a crisis that I will not, out of love for all of you, get into on this blog.  I will just say this – the Dr.  is thinking rotovirus, and there are few things less fun than having to take a shower with a sobbing two year old at 4:30am (after stripping the bed for the second time that night, of course.  The laundry is getting completely out of control here.)

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I would take the hotdog and couscous over this any day.

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Happy Halloween!

Look at that!  Only a day later than I promised.  This may be a new record or something.

First – Joe told me that on Friday at work, some of the people who had seen me at the party the night before were asking him if I was in costume.

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My feet hurt just looking at this picture.

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I’m guessing they were people who had never met me before.  I mean, sure, I was wearing all actual clothes, not costume stuff.  But seriously – I had to buy every single thing I was wearing (except the killer shoes.  I’ve tortured myself with those before.)  My skirts are all long and floaty.  My sweaters are all hoodies.  I couldn’t find any shirts with buttons in my wardrobe, period.  The flag pin I borrowed from Joe. (Thanks, Becky!)  This costume was the anti-me (which was kind of the point) – alarming to think people thought it was me (really?  The glasses w/ no glass didn’t give it away?  And the winking?  Did you think I had something in my eye?  Geesh.)

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Now, onto the pictures of the successfully costumed family members…

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Alligator, meet Princess.  Princess, meet Alligator.  RWOAR!

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I was so thrilled when Violet gave me the go ahead to make her a costume.  I think she looked super cute.  She liked it.  Great success.

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Door decorated by my amazing kindergarten artist.  Who needs to color in the lines when they have such amazing drawing, cutting, and pasting skills?

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After changing his mind 47 times, Jonas decided to be an alligator the first night, and a fish the second (we have a surplus of dress-up stuff in this house.)  Are you people prepared for the scawy scawy alligator?  Brace yourselves…

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RWOAR!  (Yes, alligaters roar.  Duh.)

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After physically making me chase them both around the house, not letting me take pictures, they spotted the chair Joe set out to change a light bulb and climbed on.

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How many terrorists does it take to change a light bulb?

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I swear, I should get a medel (or at least a brownie or something) for my efforts in photographing these children.  They are such a huge pain in the butt.  Deliberately turning their backs and moving and yelling and running away so I can’t get a shot.  But the lure of standing on a chair – can it be resisted?  Who could pass that up?

Kids are weird.

So to recap – day before Halloween.  We dressed up.  We trick-or-treated.  We went to a party where people thought I maybe had just come straight from work.   Violet won the “prettiest princess” prize in the costume contest (Jonas won the “scariest alligator”.  I love contests that have prizes for everyone.) We trick-or-treated some more.  Someone asked me for my autograph and told me I was an inspiration to hockey mom’s everywhere. We came home and ate all of the kid’s good candy.

Halloween day – Violet got to wear her costume to school, and trick-or-treat in all the classrooms.  It was the “funnest day EVER!”.  When she got home we were planning to go to this big Spooktacular thing, but it was raining and muddy and chilly and everyone was cranky and tired and Joe and I decided to tell them that it had been cancelled (I know.  We’re going to hell.) and instead we went bowling.  In costume.  I have no pictures, because I thought Joe had the camera and he thought I did.  Just picture a princess rolling gutter ball after gutter ball, (with bumpers!  How do you bowl a 14 with bumpers?) a fish who was micro managing everyone’s game (“YOU have the green ball!  It’s your turn!  Roll it right down the center, Mommy! Ok, Violet! You have the bluuuuuuue one!  Roll it super fast, Violet!”) and occasionally calling out “This is SO EXCITING!  I LOVE TO BOWL!”, and two tired looking parents drinking giant beers and arguing over who gets to eat the kid’s Reeses cups when they got home.

Happy Halloween, people.

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Oh, and Russia?

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I’m watching you.

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