Vive la Difference

In response to a friend’s question- how is this time different for my kids— I thought I would ask them over dinner last night. 

Ironically, we returned to the restaurant where my kids had an epic meltdown during one of our first nights in Antibes in 2014. After that stressful night, I think the waitress felt sorry for me and went out of her way to be kind to us the next few times we saw her, including once in the street when she didn’t hesitate to come over and greet us. Of course she recognized us immediately last week when we poked our heads in to say hello. I would like to think we somehow endeared ourselves to her, but she probably remembers us for the kids’ bad behavior and me welling up with tears and regret. 

Dinner last night definitely went better than two years ago, mostly because the kids are older and have fewer meltdowns. There were also a lot of kids out being loud and playing in the street near us, so my kids were calm in comparison. The difference could also be my approach. I was so worried about them misbehaving last time until I realized that the French are very forgiving about kids behaving like kids. Other than being loud in the apartment near the neighbors, or at times when were are in close proximity with others who are being quiet (the bus or at restaurants), I am letting a lot of kid behavior go without a big fuss. To be honest, it never bothers me, but it bothers the hell out of our family members, the neighbors, people in church, teachers at school, people trying to have dinner in a nice restaurant— some of you understand.

Cooper is distressed when his Kinder bueno is hidden inside another package inside another package--
 and we thought the French were so environmentally friendly!!

Cooper says that he is “not so enthusiastic” this time; when I asked what he meant, he said that this time he knows what to expect about France this time. I like his choice of words— but I wouldn’t say my kids lack enthusiasm. If my kids like a place, they beg to return. I’ve mentioned this before— my kids crave routine, even in a new environment where it’s difficult to establish. Samuel almost seemed disappointed to return to Antibes after our recent trip to Toulon and Nimes because he was thrilled to see new things. At the same time he drove me CRAZY in Marseille because we didn't have a plan for the unexpected layover. Bleh! Tough crowd.

Although Cooper is less anxious about being in France, I think he is more anxious about speaking French than last time. He asks me repeatedly how to say something before he tries it out. He now knows what he doesn’t know and he has been the most enthusiastic about learning French this time. He has asked me to read a book we bought here each night and translate along the way so he can learn the words. It’s exhausting for me at the end of the day but he loves it. 

King of the world- Benoit!

Bennett says the biggest difference is that they’re speaking more French. Pardon my French but that’s a bunch of crap. In 2014 I was prepping them with videos, online exercises and tutoring before we came. This time I was too busy to pull that off. I think they did retain a lot more than I thought they had, and I was proud of the amount of French they spoke in Cannes and Toulon last week. I wish they spoke more French, but it’s hard when they are with each other. The real proof will be this week as they attend language school with kids from all over the world whose only common language is (supposed to be) French. Bennett totally looks French; people often assume he is French until he speaks with his American accent, but I really think he sounds great.

Mr. Cool Guy-- and yes we brought a skateboard, two in fact!!

Samuel is so cocky. He told someone two years ago that he was fluent in French. Gotta love it. He will talk to strangers in French without any hesitation. He also enjoys talking to strangers in English, German, and affected English accent. His French is really coming along and he wants to get rid of any trace of his American accent. Aim high Samuel! He’s going to get a lot out of the school this week, which is fabulous. He is also the most taken with the diversity of kids at the school. He is very interested an aware of global politics; he absolutely blew away an English couple on the beach when he could discuss not only their new Foreign Minister, but Brexit, of course, and Scottish independence (in a Scottish accent, PS). He buddied up with a girl from Russia last time who we met up with later in London and kept in touch, so I am hopeful he’ll make some connections again. This is where he really shines. Other kids have sports, Samuel has this.

I think the biggest difference this time is that we are here in the summer. While I was fearful that we would be surrounded by tourists, many of them seem to be from elsewhere in France. I am not hearing as much English as I thought I would, which is great for our French. Everyone around us is on vacation, so there are more kids out and about in the daytime. Everything is open, whereas last time it was off-season.We get to see Antibes as the bustling tourist destination that is. And we get to swim- the beaches were too cold to swim last time, but fine to picnic. People just assume we’re here on vacation like they are; there’s no difficult answer about homeschooling or why we chose Antibes. This time it is a vacation and it’s less weird (well, it’s still us, so that’s always a little weird). The last experience was more interesting than a mom and three boys on summer vacation in the South of France. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. That’s precisely why I didn't think I could write a very entertaining blog (and maybe it’s not!).

Because we’re here in the summer, my kids have a summer mentality about studying French. I scheduled time during our first few days here to have some home lessons on French for the boys. You would have thought I was torturing them— SCHOOL in the SUMMER!?  I knew it would be an uphill battle; in fact, two years ago, a lot of my friends asked why I didn’t just wait and do our experience in the summer. I explained that we would be doing school in France and I knew my kids wouldn’t want to do that in the summer time.

Bennett and Samuel chat up the German and Italian girls. 

I’ve talked to a few kids at the language school for whom this sort of thing is the norm. I guess if Americans could send their kids to an intensive language summer camp in another country just a few hours away by train, maybe more of us would do it. 

I think the differences I see in my kids this time is that they have more confidence to speak another language, ride trains and buses and eat different foods. I think they have met more people from more countries than most adults I know, and having done this before, they think that’s expected. They don’t see France as a monolith, so hopefully they won’t paint other countries or people with a broad brush either. And this time they understand that spending long periods of time in another country isn’t weird, it’s fun. Vive la difference!

Taylor- you wondered what we'd do without beach chairs-- you can use this one when you come!

French Immersion- thanks to Norfolk, Virginia.

Who knew spending time with friends we know from Norfolk would give us so much practice speaking our French?

Monday we met long time friend Nicolas in Cannes to return his son Remy from what we all agreed was the coolest sleepover ever. We upped the cool factor by hosting him on another continent. Of course the things they wanted to do most were build Legos and play video games. 

Boys will be boys, even with all that Antibes has to offer, they wanted to hang out and play video games.
Not to worry, I eventually got them outside!

Bennett and Remy have been friends since they were two and we always knew they would eventually share some worldly adventures together. Nicolas is French Canadian and has an apartment in Cannes. Remy speaks to his father in French here and there but I can never get him and Bennett to speak French, even in France. 

Nicolas was a great host and showed us around Cannes with his sister and niece who speak mostly French. The result was an amazing mixture of French and English all day and into the evening. My boys used more French than ever so far on this trip. We had to drag Samuel out of the museum (as usual) and up the steps to the top of the castle overlooking Cannes and its harbor. 

We shared a traditional French dinner with numerous courses and because it was owned by gypsies, tableside entertainment before dessert. It seemed like such a family affair with kids at one end of the table and adults at the other. My boys taught Jasmine and Remy how to balance spoons on their noses, for which I think the French gypsies shall be forever thankful. (How did they get through those long dinners without that trick? They must have some of their own). 

Of course Whenever you do something with families there's a lot of waiting around. This was the case when we met our friends in Toulon the next day. Marie was thrilled that we came to see her at her mother's house where they are staying in advance of her husband's transfer to Paris. 

Larchmont Elementary has had several French families since we've been there thanks to NATO. We became so close with them that their son Donovan served as French tutor and sometimes babysitter. 

This was great for us because I don't know all of the cuss words and slang that my kids want to learn, so having a surly teenage French boy around boy was just the thing. 

Actually it was very touching to watch Donovan and Elya grow up over the past three years. Donovan experienced the arc of starting out French, becoming American and then returning to his French style at the end. Elya was a little American girl from the beginning but spoke no English at all when she arrived. I was heartbroken to see her leave our neighborhood and her first school. 

After a brief tour of Toulon and lunch, Marie's friend drove us up the tiny mountain roads high above Toulon to his basement studio apartment. A gracious host, Ludovick arranged for an extra rollaway bed and we crammed into the tiny space with no AC. That lasted about 5 minutes and we were all outside to enjoy the view. 

Piling into the car with Marie and her friend to head high above Toulon 

We opted for another family dinner; this time it was a picnic at a grey sand beach in Seyne sur Mer. Not before a couple of hours of packing the picnic (I almost got arrested for going the wrong way out of the produce section-- another story, really-- how was I supposed to know I needed to weigh my watermelon?), wrangling children and waiting out Navy base traffic. Yes, that's a thing in Toulon and - yes-- it's Norfolk's sister city! Apparently that's one of the questions on the Sister City application for Norfolk. 

And so, finally to the beach. The kids were turned off by the leaves at the bottom of the water, but were soon enticed to swim when Cooper discovered something to jump off of-- this is a common theme. "We've got jumpers!"

Picnic dinner and it was time to pack up- again! Ah-- these family affairs are difficult to coordinate! Sadly, our goodbyes for the evening were also our goodbyes for Marie and her family. We had rushed through our "see ya laters" in Norfolk because I knew I would we had plans see them again in Toulon. This was for real and I found myself with tears and we left the beach and our friends. 

Sleeping without AC was a challenge after Cooper saw a mosquito and we were all convinced we would get attacked like the time we were in Florence (That shit is for real!) and I closed all of the windows. We survived and once again I was impressed that my kids put up with all of the wacky adventures I keep throwing at them. Honest to God-- they are incredible at rolling with it. 

Garage apartment was really one big room- we made the most of it with a rollaway bed and fans.

Of course all if this uncertainty and chaos may have something to do with my son's anxiety disorder, but I'm just gonna say for the record I'm having nothing to do with that. And if somebody gets diagnosed with a paranoid disorder, I'm blaming the mosquitos. 

Such a great time with our friends, and so thankful that my village now includes France!

Elya and Cooper enjoy a swim and jumping off a pier together.

Never giving up

So many things have been going through our heads and hearts since we got the news early this morning about the attack in Nice. 

Samuel got in my bed at 1:20. He received a notification on his phone and couldn't get back to sleep. We've been to nice a few times and know the Promenade des Anglais well. Since it's only a ten minute train ride, we had considered going to Nice to see the fireworks if the Nimes trip didn't work out. 

When it was Nice Ville- On the Promenade d'Anglais in 2014.

Samuel was inconsolable with anxiety; not about our safety but because it is a problem he can't figure out. If you know my boy genius he doesn't deal well with questions he doesn't have answers to. 

I had to weigh Samuels resulting anxiety of missing out on some sites in Nimes against the anxiety of not getting enough sleep and chose to let him sleep in. We missed the gardens and the Galois tower that is a huge source of pride here-- it was built long before the Romans arrived and is an example of an advanced ancient French society. 

The major collection of Antiquities is in storage during renovations and we really missed out. Instead we saw a temporary reduced collection and visited the famous arena. More about that later (maybe)-- but my thoughts on the attack:

Today, people were moving on. Trains are running on time (mostly), people are out and in the cafes and I haven't seen the ubiquitous TV coverage like I would be in the US. I haven't even overheard people talking about it. We noticed armed security in the train stations and some bomb sniffing dogs.

The train we take to Antibes is always marked "Nice Ville;" in fact it's a little joke we always say, "and it IS a nice ville, isn't it?" When we were finally making our connection train today, Cooper pulled me back by the hand and said "oh no mommy, do we have to go to Nice?" He was very worried. He had said something to me earlier today about how awful the attack was because it was so close to Antibes. I tried to reassure him but I think he's nervous. He and Bennett were talking about which car on a train was the safest is it the first one in case the train is in an accident-- but what if it has a head on collision.... These are worries I don't remember them expressing before. 

The worst thing about this is that I had to sit down with my children and talk seriously about an emergency plan. Previously, we've talked about getting lost as our worst case scenario, but today we talked about what to do if there's an emergency and they can't find me or maybe they think they WONT find me, like I've been hurt.  Once again weighing the anxiety created by talking about this stuff and the importance of preparing them just in case. The thing is, I've always worried about them getting taken or going missing. As remote of an occurrence that is, it's the one we've always talked about it. 

Once, when one of these child captives came out and told her story, she said she kidnappers had convinced her that her parents had stopped looking for her. I remembered telling my kids that day that I would NEVER stop looking for them-- no matter what. Even if they chose to run away, I will never give up. I will never stop loving them.

This was so clear on Thursday. When we got dropped off on the side of the road by a taxi (yes, I will explain that later), we made our way over to the only group of people that had already assembled, a group of women about my age.  They immediately started talking to us-- we had HOURS to wait for the caravan and the race, so we might as well make friends, and we've all got at least one crazy ass thing in common to be standing in the dirt and cigarette butts on the side of the road in the middle of NOWHERE. Anyway, we were talking and I noticed a couple of them had t-shirts with a teenagers face on them. I thought maybe he was a hometown kid in the race. Then they unfurled a big banner, same face and big letters -- disparu! They told me this kid had gone missing in early March. One of the more enthusiastic moms was shouting orders and came over from across the road-- same shirt. I said- oh is she the boy's mother? No. A friend? "Not really. She's part of the association." The group of people looking for him. Many people have been helping the family for months since he disappeared. 

These ladies were dedicated. Just as the caravan started to arrive, they literally wrapped themselves in the banner to hold it up for the TV cameras. They asked people to take pictures of the banner for FaceBook, even me for "American Facebook." After the peloton passed and helicopters were passing behind us, they quickly turned their big banner around, hoping to catch their attention. They had another banner across the street and a bigger one laying down in the middle of the roundabout for the TV helicopters. They passed out flyers to the cars stopped to turn around. These ladies weren't giving up. Never. 

I told my boys-- "see like I told you-- if anything happens to you, I will never stop looking. I'll be out there with my crazy mom friends and we'll never give up." 

After the race, One of our new friends drove us back to town. Fabian is a middle school teacher-- teaches Latin, French literature aNd Ancient Greek. To middle schoolers. Samuel was green with envy. 

Later that night we were heading to the fireworks. The streets of Nimes were filled as I had expected. There was a street festival as well as the fireworks that night. Bands were playing in the different squares around the old city. I was wondering why people weren't making their way over to the garden when it was time to go. We walked away from the street festival and over to the boulevard. I started to get the sense we were going in the wrong direction because crowds of people were walking the opposite way. I asked a lady who told us the fireworks had been cancelled. I assumed at the time that it was because of the wind. The mighty mistral had affected the Tour de France earlier that day, the ending of the stage had been moved off of Mt. Ventoux  due to dangerous winds. We turned back and headed through the street festival and back to our apartment. My sister called me almost immediately to check on us. We hadn't heard anything. She had few details. A Google search only turned up an old airport scare so I texted Taylor. He hadn't heard anything either. 

Samuel's notification confirmed it and another search turned up the tragic details. I hopped on line and the messages and phone calls all popped up. I put up a quick Facebook post to tell my friends and family that we were OK. After my restless night with Samuel, he fell asleep around 6 am. When I got out of bed at 9am and checked my Facebook for news, there you were. 

All of my crazy mommy friends, and my daddy friends and all of my friends, first 50, then 100 ---searching for me, checking on me. I was so touched to know that if anything ever happened to me or my family, all of you would be there for us just like those ladies on the side of the road, just like you were there for me this morning, letting me know that you would never forget about me, never stop looking. NEVER.

Clash of Cultures- In the Can

can

verb \kən, ˈkan also ˈken; dial ˈkin\

verbal auxiliary

1a:  know how to <she can read>; b:be physically or mentally able to <he can lift 200 pounds>; c: used to indicate possibility <do you think he can still be alive> <those things can happen> ; sometimes used interchangeably with may; d:be permitted by conscience or feeling to <can hardly blame her>; e:be made possible or probable by circumstances to <he can hardly have meant that>; f:be inherently able or designed to <everything that money can buy>

2: have permission to —used interchangeably with may <you can go now if you like>

noun

1: a usually cylindrical receptacle:a vessel for holding liquids; specifically a drinking vessel; b:a usually metal typically cylindrical receptacle usually with an open top, often with a removable cover, and sometimes with a spout or side handles (as for holding milk or trash); c:a container (as of tinplate) in which products (as perishable foods) are hermetically sealed for preservation until used:a jar for packing or preserving fruit or vegetables 

2:  jail

3a :toilet; b:bathroom

4:  buttocks

5 :destroyer 

in the can

of a film or videotape: completed and ready for release

Thanks for clearing that up, Merriam Webster, now can you tell me—

What the eff is THIS? 

I was hoping to have a delicious bit of tuna with my pasta. There’s a whole shop filled with canned fish and seafood around the corner, these French know how to can some tuna, believe me. It’s no chicken of the sea. So imagine how pissed I was to find this thing as the only implement in the kitchen that resembled a can opener. Am I camping? 

Sorry to sound insensitive, but I’ve been in this country before and they have can openers- even electric ones! It looks like it’s missing half of its parts! Forget it.

The next day, the boys are lazing around while I start to pack lunches for our hike (we excel at picnics). I need to make a sandwich—this is BULLSHIT! I paid $4 for that can of tuna and I am going to open it. I’m half laughing at myself and half praying I don’t end up in urgent care. 

I was in the Outer Banks once, alone with my kids, like I do (because vacations can’t always wait for Dad to get out of work). I was setting stuff up when I got my hand stuck in a …. OK, we’ll skip that, totally gross, but off we go, to the urgent care and the nurse bends down to address my children and I say- “uh, no…it’s ME who’s hurt.” That wasn’t the most embarrassing part- I spent the next few days with a sandwich bag over my hand so I wouldn’t get sand and seawater in it. Nothing a cold beverage to the palm couldn’t help— and constant application was needed. 

I’d like to say I got the can open, but mostly just hinged in two places. I call that a win. 

So much for THAT can.

Here’s what I bought the next day— BOOM!

The first day we got here, we went to my kids favorite beach- La Gravette. I think I’ve posted pics before, but it’s a little cresent beach nearly contained by two jetties. It was the ancient Greek port and you can totally envision it that way. 

Today I think of it as a giant toilet bowl. Sure, I think it’s fine but I can’t get over the idea that people are peeing in it all day. But we go because it’s the kids’ favorite (it’s the one we ALWAYS went to the first time we were here, and my kids are creatures of habit—see EVERY BLOG FROM THE LAST TIME!!!). There is an English family next to us. As they pack up ready to leave they’re complaining about the sand everywhere. Now I am accustomed to this from working at the Virginia Beach oceanfront for three summers as a kid. Tourists ALWAYS complain about the sand. Where did they think they were going? 

He’s ranting and rinsing- (and what are you going to do now, genius? your feet are clean but you have 50 yards to walk through sand…), then his kid says he needs to pee. He says to his son- “well, you have two choices- you can pee in the sea or you can go to the public loo, and it’s a FRENCH public loo, so you can imagine how disgusting THAT is…” 

OK, again- where did he think he was going? Of course that’s beside the point, because he just made a terrible comment in front of his child and the people at the beach, most of whom understand English— and by that I mean the language, not the people. That’s been historically impossible with these two, and I’m not just talking about the can, or the loo or whatever you call it.

Last night, as promised, we returned to the tiny movie theater so we could see a U.S. film in French. I know it sounds silly, but my kids think this is really cool. 

Last time we saw a movie they had already seen, so it was no problem to understand the plot, even if we were unsure of all of the words in the dialogue. This time that was not an option, so we saw Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2 - thankfully, also not a problem understanding the plot because there typically isn’t one. 

Now, my French is rusty, but thankfully I understand more than I can speak; but when I asked Cooper how he did, he said- “well, I understood about 30%, and what I didn’t know, I could just figure out from the words I did know.” Successful lesson using contextual clues to understand French- in the can!

PS- we found another beach today-- it has big rocks for the kids to jump from, lots of afternoon shade and small waves because it's less protected. The English guy would like it because there's no sand- of course I'm not telling HIM about it (I guess we know where he stood on the whole Brexit thing!).

and here's a video:

Retourner or revenir? France, two years later.

Whenever I decribed this trip in French, I would always get hung up on using retourner or revenir, to go back or to come back. I can't tell the difference, or maybe I'm just tired.

It’s nearly midnight and the place is still going crazy. People are honking horns and shouting to each other; the game ended almost an hour ago. I think all of this talk about the post-Brexit emergence of Germany is really pissing off the French. Tonight they showed Europe who the real chef is— at least in soccer. 

We were lucky to score a table just at the edge of the viewing area at a popular cafe. France’s version of a sports bar- a flatscreen begrudgingly rolled out for the patrons. Cooper was our emissary and of course he scored big with a drunk who was holding up one end of a table and offered the charming child the other. Bennett, Samuel and I followed and his glassy eyes widened in surprise (see The Drunks Love Us in This Town from ’14 for more on that theme). I think Samuel thought it was total bullshit until he realized that a crowd amassed along the wall across the street. That rowdy crowd of teenagers couldn’t score even half of a table and were happy to stand for the game and cheer. Samuel is a willing participant when being put in his place; he usually knows when he’s showing his privileged ass. 

The experience will be memorable for the energy of watching an important match with the home crowd. When France scored their first goal the place went totally crazy; the kids were amused. Also memorable was the drunk guy who slugged back his cloudy absinthe without regard for the mysterious ritual of sugar cube and water droplets whose necessity is all but canon for certain US hipsters. I got into a serious discussion of the merits of Antibes over Nice with two guys at the adjacent table who were relieved at our arrival for no other reason than to not be further associated with the drink guy. Antibes won hands down, as did France. We ended up watching the last of the match at our apartment where we could hear the commentary and whoop it up in the comfort of our air-conditioned living room (sorry Antibois!). 

I hesitantly chose a place one block outside the walls of the Vielle Ville- the pedestrian zone filled with restaurants and shops, contained within the 18th century walls until it spills out into the yacht harbor. With so much to do in the safety and familiarity of Vielle Ville, my kids think of it as home. But…my American kids need two things in their lives— space and air-conditioning. I just couldn't find both in the Old Town, so I sacrificed the quaint cave kitchen and rooftop balcony for modernity this time.

We came in yesterday about 8 hours after we were supposed to arrive. Our original flight was canceled and although we got rerouted almost immediately, the only way to Nice was via a four hour layover in Chicago and a three hour layover in Frankfurt. The boys did not complain once until the final two blocks before our final destination to meet our host, when every bag became impossible to carry. Packing for only 5 weeks instead of three months seemed easy enough; even with two skateboards and a half dozen gis to donate to the Judo studio, we only brought one large suitcase, two roll-aboards and one backpack per kid.

With just a few hours of daylight after our host finished showing us around the apartment, we hit the streets to check out what had changed. There was a little melancholia accompanying us on our walk down memory lane. A tree at the park had been chopped down. I’m sure Bennett and Cooper were disappointed when it didn’t seem as big as they remembered. Cooper noticed some graffiti on one of the play structures and I really think he was about to cry. Our favorite cafe had changed ownership and decor, and the boys considered that their favorite waitress was probably gone too. But then - there was the carousel and the gelato stand, and more funny stories started coming out. The boys remembered their short cuts through town. They begged to stop at different restaurants and argued about which beach or park to visit the next day. Oh, the new spot for the English Bookstore is much better than the old spot which was dank and smelly and bad for the books; and oh look- the same guy is at the Snack Instant! It was all coming back. 

We returned absolutely exhausted to our apartment one block into new territory, but somehow in just the right place.

Re-entry

Since we’ve been home everyone asks— are you glad to be back?

Well of course I am, but I would be lying if I didn’t say that I missed being abroad. 

There were many things that were great about being away for three months. It was sort of like being in college again, where you had loving family members back at home paying the bills so you could have “the best years of your life.” God Bless Taylor for not only agreeing to the whole thing, but for lovingly supporting us financially and otherwise while we did this adventure without him. It takes a strong dad to allow his children to have “memories of a lifetime” that don’t include him.

I was not a Francophile before I left. Now I am one of those obnoxious people who thinks most of what is great about the planet resides in France. And I’m not talking about Paris, where everyone goes and is instantaneously smitten. I was discussing this just today with someone who had traveled extensively in France— there is so much to see and do there. The various regions, geographically, culturally and historically, provide you with much of what you need to know about the world. Look no further than France. Sorry— now I am one of those obnoxious people.

Today my boys noticed a new hue of blue on the front of our maritime museum— “oh I love it mom, it looks like the ocean in Antibes.” Yes boys, the Cote d’Azur. I have ruined every other beach in their future by taking them there. Their longing for Antibes has been heart wrenching at times. When they reminisce about summer camp or the beach house, I love that they have a fondness for the places we go together year after year. I can’t put my finger on the reasons they loved Antibes so much, but I have a sadness that we can’t return there so easily. 

And of course I miss the food and wine. I was fortunate to be invited to a reception aboard the French navy ship Mistral the other evening and the menu featured amazing cheeses and bread I have searched for here in vain. Right now I am getting a dough together to try to emulate a decent baguette. This was a labor undertaken months before our trip and I approach the same now with a new sense of urgency.

I am so happy to be together as a family, and I do feel more complete with my husband. I need a partner in the undertaking of parenthood and I love that someone has my back again. Nevertheless, there was that intimacy I had with my boys during our trip that their father and their friends now intrude upon. We had a good little routine going. I can’t explain it other than to say I enjoyed being with my kids on my terms. 

And speaking of my terms— it did take some adjustment to sharing decision making and — yes— control— with someone else after three months of calling the shots on my own. I rather liked being in charge, to be honest. Now Taylor would tell you that I still think I’m in charge, but that is another story. As my friends know, I take little solace in letting someone else take over. I have calmed down since the initial week after our return, but I was fighting quite a bit before I could get comfortable with sharing power —and parenting— again.

Getting into a routine at home has been difficult so far, but only because we came back at such a crazy time. Samuel needed to return to school for testing, so I thought it would only be fair to keep up with homeschooling the other two during these last two weeks. Poor Samuel needed to take the Algebra SOL. I was a nervous wreck because I had been responsible for covering all of the required material through my homeschool curriculum, and I am terrified by algebra. I had another disadvantage as his teacher because I had no idea what material would be on the test— no “teaching to the test” here. I was afraid I hadn’t covered everything, but he passed the first try. The littles are bored because we finish our homeschool as usual at noon, but instead of parks and sightseeing in the afternoons, they get Home Depot and Costco. I had stocked up on everything before I left so Taylor wouldn’t need to deal with toilet bowl cleaner and lightbulbs— but Good Lord— the house was in need of everything when I returned. He had two rolls of toilet paper left from my stockpile! Very serious indeed! Add to that all of the doctor visits that were due and it’s been very busy and very boring.

I’ve also been plagued with a nesting craze second only to during my pregnancies. Immediately when I returned home, I started thinking of things that needed cleaning, planting, repainting, fixing or recovering. I am sure Taylor was counting on our credit card bills going down when I got home, not up. Poor guy. Not only that, but after living with so little for three months, I can’t understand why we have so much crap. At least Taylor is a fan of tossing out the old, so I’ve been getting lots of support. The pile of junk for the thrift store pick up this Friday is embarrassing. The neighbors are going to think someone is moving out or dead.

To echo my “wrapping it up” post from one of my last trip journals, I’m not totally sure I can say how the trip changed me or what my big “take-aways ”were. I cautioned family members not to ask the kids too many questions when we got back, but instead, to let the boys digest the trip a little bit and allow them to tell stories as they became ready. Too many adults asking the same questions, and the boys’ responses start sounding more and more apathetic… “How was your trip? …fine. Say something in French… quelque chose. What was your favorite part?… Antibes. Why?…I dunno.” Instead, I felt pressure to give insightful answers or justify the trip— the time, money and energy, or I get worried I’ll sound too braggadocios or privileged, or if I say I miss it, people will wonder about my marriage. So for now I just say- “yes, I am glad to be back.” 

In reality, I am just astounded that we did it. What an amazing trip. 

Through all of the ups and downs and the behavior issues and the logistics, and the moments of self doubt and mommy guilt, I cannot believe it worked. It accomplished so much more than I imagined it would and it was just great. And I hope I can orchestrate my life so that I can do more astounding things with our family.