The Hedgehog Returns

They are cute aren't they?

All fuzzy in a prickly kinda way. Just the right size to squeeze under fences and doorways. Ever so cute when they waddle around the garden at night looking for milk or a mouse.

I like hedgehogs, really I do. Hubster and I could start an international group that goes around saving these poor little suckers from the jaws of certain death. That death coming in the form of a Malamute or a Siberian. We've helped little hedgehogs escape from Luna back in our postage stamp sized garden in England and we've even let one give up his night job as a football here in France.

It's just that at 3 a.m. when one these little guys start acting like our third child, I get a little miffed and start planning hedgehog souffle.

Last night, sauntering up to the gate of the dog yard, plunking himself down well out of biting range but yet just close enough to annoy the crap outta Anouk and Typhon, our latest hedgehog reminded me of when Bubba-Love takes one of Mini-Husband's precious Matchbox cars, puts it in his mouth and threatens to throw up on it.

Ah, what fun when the mayhem ensues!

My only option last night to get Anouk to stop barking at the non-moving Brillo pad was to either go outside and physically remove the creature or throw a pitcher of water on the dogs from the kitchen window.

I'm not proud to admit that I have really good aim with a pitcher of water.

This morning, or rather later this morning, there was no trace of the hedgehog. There's a couple of spots in the dog yard where it's obvious the gang tried to claw their way out to commit murder, but overall, no trace of that roving wanna-be porcupine.

So there you have it. In the run up to the Hedgehog World Cup this summer, both teams are going into the competition with a solid win under their belts. The reffing was a little bit one sided in this latest clash for sure and, surprisingly, it was the losing coach who got splashed with Gatorade, but overall a fine start to the season.

Let's just hope the cats and squirrels don't field teams as well...

I Got 5 Minutes

*It's normal that a 4 year old terrorizes the cafeteria lady, right?

*Is it possible that an 8 year old can be deaf? In both French and English? And for some strange reason, he can only hear me when I'm outside talking to the dogs?

*It will happen that The Princess will be really good at ice skating and therefore force me to use my sewing machine to make those sparkly costumes, 'cause I'm all over competition, aren't I?

*Rosie is 11 months old today. To mark this milestone, Hubster and I got her a nice new/used car. Amen for a bateau de route!

*Hubster may be forced to see a dentist after 20+ years of avoiding such people. You have no idea how it's killing me not to make jokes about European teeth.

*Watching grass grow really is as boring as it sounds.

Thoughts on Gardening in March

So it turns out that not only do my lovely French women know how to cook, iron, sew, and clean while staying immaculately dressed and thin, they also, it turns out, know how to garden. It's just so unfair.

Me, I head off to the garden store, buy some plants that look nice, stick them in the ground and hope that by some miracle, they'll still be there in a month's time. My neighboures here take a shoot off of a pre-existing plant in their garden, stick it in water, and it grows. And not only does it grow, it reproduces and grows. And gets beautiful. And it will still be there in 150 year's time when they then share 2/3 of said plant with the latest foreigner to the village. The foreigner's 2/3 will die in a month's time while the other 1/3 left will bloom and grow like mad.

It's just so unfair.

I'm trying to get the front garden back to a state of bliss this year. The dogs have been banished to their prison so now it's just the kids I have to fight with to leave the flowers alone. I've raked out the holes, picked out stones and wondered the origins of the odd bit of chewed up plastic. I've planted a forsythia and I'm plotting out a little path to the side of the house.

So far, so good.

Now, if only the grass will grow.

Trust me when I tell you that the grass really does look greener on the other side of our fence. Right now our side looks brown, miserable, and the only thing that seems to be growing is more rocks. Ah, the joys of living in a volcanic area! You have no idea how much I want to go and steal our neighbour's daffodils and pretend they came from our garden.

Me and my brown thumb must remember that it's only March. Patience. To everything there is a season and a husky to blame.

On Winning. And Losing.

I had an interesting conversation with Hippy-Love Française last night. We were talking about the importance of our kids getting involved in an activity, a sport, to help encourage them to build their confidence and thus, be strong in mind and body. We both agreed it's important for our kids to be physically active and challenge themselves by learning to ride a bike, go skiing, or even head out for a run. But we disagreed dramatically on one aspect of this whole thing.

Competition.

For me, competition is important to sport. It's important to learn that sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes you train really hard and still have a shitty race, sometimes you don't train at all and somehow you still manage to do it all as it should. Competition introduces you to other people and other ideas about a sport that you take personally. It's something that teaches you how to win strong and most importantly, how to learn that losing doesn't equal failure.

I've only won a competition once in my life and that was the day all the good skiers fell down because of ice. Me, freaking about wiping out in front of the hot guy from the University of Wisconsin, I snow plowed the whole first section of the course and managed not to fall. Low and behold, that got me a gold. Good old competition teaching me it's not always about speed.

More normally, I've finished last, near last, or in the bottom half of any race I've ever been in. I'm proud of that actually because learning how to lose has been worth every penny of every entry fee.

Hippy-Love told me a lot of her issues with competition come from the whole hassle of weekends being swamped by tournaments, games, and matches. Busy training schedules and life being organized around sport. It's just too much to ask. "Where is the time for family?" She asked. "Where is the time to just enjoy skiing or judo or tennis?"

I agree with her in theory. The thought of schlepping my kids around for this or that is not my number once choice for a Wednesday evening or at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Especially if all four of them actually get involved to that level. But, once again, getting to that level with a sport teaches you commitment and patience and determination. All things that I need as much help in teaching my kids as I can get.

I'm willing to load up the bateau de route and drive all over God's kingdom to get these people to their practices, their competitions, their 'thing,' because I know, in the end, it's going to help them learn to be gracious in winning, strong in losing, and solid in body and mind. It's through competition that we learn it's ok to not always be number one. Yes, sport is good for sport's sake, but it's through competition that we really learn about ourselves.

Mini-Husband asked me if I won my race on Sunday. The answer was easy.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

Blisters: The Best Badge of Courage

A little theme music is most definitely necessary today:




And yes, that's what I did yesterday. I ran. I ran so far away. Up hills and down hills. Over trees and under trees. I climbed a river and a lava flow. 15K on the trails around my village and through it's ruined hameaux. My legs carried me to places I love and places I fear. I am exhilaratingly exhausted today.

Yesterday's run reminded me of why I like rock climbing. You have to focus so much on where to put your feet, where to make that next hold, that you forget you are scaling a rock face, and then next thing you know, you are on top of the world.

As I ran along, I glanced at the amazing scenery around me, laughed with the fast woman I trailed for several kilometers (until she left me in the dust on the last downhill section) and just ran. So far away.

I'm not a good runner. I'm built like a top heavy pear so it's a challenge sometimes just getting these legs to keep moving. At least with a trail run, there's no shame in walking the step bits. Out there it's obvious who's going to win every time. Her name is Mother Nature and she takes it all in stride.

And what beautiful, beautiful strides.

The loser yesterday was my favourite road route. I don't think I'm going to be able to enjoy that quite like I used to.

So raise your ibuprofen with me today. Here's to a year ago being one fat, pregnant spectator to this year, a mother of four who can run. Run so far away.

Tying Up Loose Ends

Let's see...updates:

*Package from hell: finally arrived thanks to the father of one of Bubba-Love's classmates who just happened to have an appointment right next door to the shittiest delivery company in France. Thank you, Pasqual!

*Bateau de route: We've found one. Over 600 kilometers away. All said and done, we should be picking it up next weekend. Cross your fingers.

*Transcripts: Grade school ones are on the way. I'm still seething over this whole thing, by the way. I find it nuts that once you are an American citizen you have to prove that you lived in America. Don't we just give that citizenship to anyone born in the country? Why then do I have to prove anything else? Grumble, grumble...

*Weekend Plans: Big match, France vs England in the Six Nations Rugby Tournament. We're heading over to French Me's to watch the game and I'm just hoping Hubster and French Me's Husband remain calm, cool, and collected through out the evening. Right.

*Dog cart has finally been repaired (thank you Musher Boy) so I'm hoping to get the 'team' out for a bit on Saturday. Right after Hubster and I sand down all the beams in the attic. Thank God we are going to French Me's that night or the tribe would end up eating pasta and dust for dinner.

*Oh, and Sunday, I'm going to drag this corpse of mine out for a 15K trail race. What the hell am I thinking? Need to make sure I got enough bags of frozen peas in the freezer. My knees and hips are going to need them.

So, there you are. All the news that's fit to print.

What's going on in your world?

Good Thing the Appointment is in May

Hubster and I are taking the tribe to the States this summer which fills me with more joy that I can actually describe. The thought of a shopping trip to Target, running shoes from the magic running store, and steamed crabs just has me all a twitter. The only downside to all this is that I have to sit for 7 hours in a small confined space with my four children. Amen for free cocktails on Air France.

In order to enjoy that lovely flight, I need to make sure all the little one's passports are ready to roll. Mini-Husband and The Princess both have expired U.S. passports and we still haven't gotten around to getting one for Rosie yet. Bubba-Love's is ok, but I think we may need to renew it next year. The mind numbing process of doing all this with the American Consulate just makes me want to curl up into the fetal position and beg Typhon to sing "Hallelujah" over and over again until my head explodes.

Getting the British passports involved filling out papers, attaching a photo that someone swears looks just like the person in question, and sending it off with a few documents to prove that Hubster and I really are married and that he's really British. Et voila, a couple of weeks later, the kids had their British passports.

To get the American passport, it's as if I need to give up my kidney and then donate 14 pints of blood. Even better is that things have changed in the last couple of years with the American requirements so we are now also required to sell them our oldest son. Not a bad deal this week, all things considered.

We've made the appointment for the beginning of May and for that appointment we will need the following:

*All previous passports, current and expired for the whole family
*Documents proving that Hubster and I are married
*New passport request forms
*Photos of each child for the new passports
*Photos of each child from each year they've been alive to prove that this is actually what they look like now.
*Birth certificates from birth country and U.S. Consular Reports of Birth Abroad for the big kids.
*Transcripts from every school I ever attended in the U.S. to prove that I actually was physically present in the United States for over 20 years.
*An envelope to send all this back to us with the new passports.
*An American credit card for payment because "we don't want no stinkin' Euros."

I'm not kidding. Transcripts from EVERY SCHOOL I ever attended. (Thank God Sarah Palin isn't having to do this, eh?)

I asked the nice woman at the consulate if she needed my American birth certificate as well.

"No, that won't be necessary. That document only proves that you were in the U.S. for one day."

And what a day that was, right Kitty? Who knew that when I splashed amniotic fluid all over the doctor's shoes that one day I would be having to create a paper trail just so my little half breeds can come back and see my blessed America for themselves.

Alas, I am what I am. How I wonder what they will be.