No, I'm Up! I'm Up!

I have always been just a tad bit annoying to those I love. Especially when they are trying to take a nap.

I love sneaking up behind them and then lightly tapping them on the shoulder and whispering their name.

"Hey, Big Sister, time to get up!"

I'd do this for about 10-15 minutes, the whole time said Sister would plead and demand for me to leave her in peace. Finally, she'd jump up from where she was napping, and chase me like hell on fire around the house. Good thing, we tended to be laughing at this point or I think she could've done me some serious physical harm.

Well, Sister, Karma has come round. And no, it's not the dog this time. It's Bubba-Love and his fleet of trucks and tractors.

It's been a sleepy morning for me. Hubster left for work around 5am (I think) and I was pretty much awake since he left. So after the tribe was finally up, watered and fed, I thought, "I'll just sneak a quick 10 minutes before I get dressed."

I got about 2 before Bubba-Love found me and decided that I made a great mock 4x4 course as I hid under my duvet. And trust me, there is nothing like having trucks roll over your head and a front loader dig out your ear wax to really get you moving!

Of course, he's a speedy little toddler and I wasn't able to catch him as he ran shrieking with laughter down the hall. He definitely takes after my side of the family.

Sleep will have to wait till later. I'll just fire up the coffee machine and hope for the best.

Did I mention that today is the first day of the kids' autumn school vacation? Might have to pull out the sleeper sofa and a really long movie.

Hope they'll like Doctor Zhivago.

More Life at the Birth Control Bed & Breakfast

It's been a bit crazy here this last week. Lots of things going on and I've found myself well and truly swamped with life. In some ways, I like it like that. You go to bed on Monday night and then the next thing you know, it's Sunday and we're out of milk, toilet paper, and yogurt.

I had 3 extra kids in the house on Wednesday and I was beyond pleased with my ability to not yell at anyone in French or English for almost 12 hours. Thank goodness salt dough is a big hit with 6 kids between the ages of 2.5-7. Of course, I'm still finding lumps of it in strange places in the kitchen, but it's a small price to pay for guarding what's left of my sanity.

Which I have need of in the months and years to come. Trust Me.

Why? Well, let me introduce y'all to Whoopsie. Or "Bon Vacances, Chérie!":

Yes, we've been given a gift. Or rather, I was just before I left for my trip to the States in August. Who knew I had a little stowaway travelling with me, enjoying my cousin's wedding and the Orioles' game? I should have known something was up by the way I was craving seafood and chocolate in the same bite. One could only be sick or pregnant for that kinda combination.

We are expecting Whoopsie to check into the B & B sometime in early May. I can only imagine if we had such good success in scaring people out of having children before, now we'll be the place to stay.

One of my sisters already has four kids and she keeps trying to tell me how wonderful it is going to be. Of course, I'm getting this through snippets of conversation by telephone and on Facebook. She keeps promising to call when she's got a free moment to talk. That'll be about September of 2013, I'm thinking.

The dogs have taken the news rather well. I think they had hoped for a puppy (in truth, me too) but at least this means Anouk and Abaka will be able to get their beauty sleep from here on in.

I'm going to need a coma.

So here we go. On to the next adventure and whatever he or she may be like.

Being Cursed From Kansas

Over 2.5 years ago, our friend, Madame Home Depot, came and helped Hubster and I do some renovation work around the house. She spent hours stuffing insulation around the attic, caulking the shower in the bathroom, building shelves, and even changing the odd nappy or two.

All she ever wanted in return was for us to send her one of these:

Yes, it's a drying rack. And for some strange reason, she can't find one like it in the US.

Now, I should be super sensitive to that whole, "not finding what I really want" thing after living here for so long, so you'd think I'd be a bit more willing to help her get one. After all, she's hauled peanut butter, cake mix, cloth nappies, and chocolate across the ocean for me, the least I can do is get her a drying rack.

But the truth is, I'm lazy and the thought of trying to figure how on earth I'm gonna pack that sucker up and send it to Kansas leaves me shaking. If only there was a Mail Boxes Etc near by, but alas, this is France. And there's not. Just me, a roll of duct tape, and not enough cardboard. Hence, why she still hasn't gotten one.

But Madame Home Depot has friends in high places it seems. My very own clothes rack like this one gave up the ghost the other day. Just one gust of wind too many and a very curious husky has now reduced it to a strange pile of metal. Which means, I need to get another one.

Enter Catholic guilt.

I could just buy one for us and let it go at that, praying that she'll buy one for herself the next time we haul her tookus over here (hopefully this spring) or I could finally do the right thing and get one for her and actually send it over the pond.

I know, I know. I need to stop being so lazy and just get off my bum, buy her a drying rack, slap some tape on it, and send it.

There will be a little perverse joy for me in that whole scenario though. Can you just see Miss Snootie's face when I finally haul that thing into the post office?

Chilies Rock, Especially With a Nice Red from the South of France

We had a major success at the Birth Control Bed & Breakfast yesterday. We fed real live French people Mexican food and they survived!

I don't think it is possible to explain (but I'm gonna try anyway) how terrifying it is to know that you are having your French friends coming over for dinner. The question of what to feed them becomes all consuming. These are FRENCH people. People who actually LIKE eating a minimum of 4 courses at Sunday dinner. And have eaten INCREDIBLE STUFF since they were 2.5 years old!

The pressure is insane.

Sure, I can now make a mean boeuf bourguignon and even a gratin dauphinois that'll knock your sock off, but it just seems odd for me, the woman who grew up on seafood and spaghetti, to offer typical French cuisine to the French. (The exception being Magali, who helped me finish off a huge casserole of gratin dauphinois all by ourselves. God, that was good!)

Hubster and I finally decided that for this occasion, we were going to be different. We were going to offer a real taste of something not French and, most shocking of all, we weren't going to offer a cheese course.

We started off with a 5-layer dip and, thanks to a former ex-pat, I whipped up a recipe of chicken enchiladas while Hubster made his famous chili. Of course, the two of us sat there eating green chilies before cooking with them to be sure we didn't over due the spice factor. The French cook with exceptional flavour but rarely with spice so we were both very afraid of overdoing the "heat" factor. Not nice to accidentally kill your dinner guests, now is it?

Luckily for us, we picked the right guinea pigs. None of their heads turned bright red, no one broke out in a huge therapeutic sweat, and best of all, they even asked for seconds. Finishing off dinner with a bit of banana bread and fruit, Hubster and I were pretty darn pleased with ourselves.

It was so nice to eat Mexican food. Guacamole, re-fried beans, sour cream, salsa, chilies: happiness on a tortilla chip. My only concern is that I'm worried our friends might get a little Montezuma's revenge for their gastronomic straying. Too bad we didn't have any Beano to offer before we started eating!

It'll be Hubster who suffers though. These friends are his co-workers. And they share a very small office space.

Tee-hee.

We Could've Payed Mini-Husband Less, I'm Sure

We got the bill from Godot Roofing the other day and much to our surprise and joy, the final bill is exactly what they had estimated ever so long ago. This is a minor miracle in my book and both Hubster and I were relieved that we only needed to cut off one arm and leg each rather than the two we feared might be the case.

I have to admit, I kind of miss having the guys from Godot around. They arrived each morning with a smile, played with the dogs, chatted with The Princess, explained their work to Mini-Husband, and didn't laugh at my French.

They also inspired Mini-Husband to start renovating his cabane in the garden. He's created a wish list of things to buy at Gedimat which include paint, nails, an electric screwdriver, a mirror, and a hammer. I'm not sure what Santa will make of this list, but it just goes to prove, he is definitely like his father.

Yesterday, Mini-Husband decided it was time to re-do the roof of the cabane. And so he did.

I was impressed with his work ethic and as he pointed out, it is nice to have the roof of the cabane match the roof of the house.

The Princess took a different view on things:

But in the end, the cabane has a new roof and all involved, including the four legged assistant, seemed pleased with a good day's work.

Of course, we still need to work on that 'cleaning-up-the-site-after-the-work-is-finished' thing, but we'll get there.

Her New Favourite Spot

There is a universal truth to huskies that they have a tendency to sit on top of things. Be it on their dog houses, steps, walls, etc etc.

Luna used to have a thing for sitting on the fire escape outside Hubster's apartment in England, happily watching the world go by as a cool breeze tickled her tummy.

Our latest crew hasn't seemed to have the same need, or rather, the same access to a fire escape. Anouk likes the wall. Typhon likes the steps. And Abaka, well, she's a fire escape kinda husky.

I've found her lately on the picnic table on the patio, up on top of the kids' playhouse peering into the neighbour's yard, and hanging out on the wall behind Anouk.

But she seems to have finally found a spot that gives her exactly what she's looking for. A little peace and quiet, with a cool breeze to tickle her tummy.

You Never Know Where You'll Find One

Several years ago, the summer after The Princess was born, I joined a women's online running forum. This group gave me a couple of things I desperately needed at the time, motivation to run and somewhere to speak in English.

The cast of character on the forum has changed and grown over the years and I really do feel as though I come to know a lot of these women, their stories, their worries, their lives. Of course, I was always well protected from any unpleasant realities of the group (like they were really all big fat smelly men who liked sitting in their underwear, drinking beers and watching marathon runners on TV) because I lived across a very big ocean.

That was, until Magali showed up.

All of the sudden, I had someone on the site who knew what was happening in my part of the world. Someone who was suffering roughly the same kind of weather and buying her running gear at Decathlon, just like me.

We met for the first time in "real life" when I ran the Paris Half Marathon. Magali and another woman from the site, who was living in Germany at the time, met me for dinner the Friday night before the race. I must admit, I was terrified to meet up with these two. I had no idea what to expect and no idea where I could go and hide in Paris if things went really awful.

I shouldn't have been worried. Magali is wonderful. (And so is our other friend, but this post is about Magali! I'll get to you another time, Sephora!)

Magali's a traveller, an artist, a runner, a sensitive soul. She is happiest comfortably ensconced in a couch, hot cup of tea in hand, writing or drawing whatever is inspiring her at that moment. Which is why it is so damn funny to us that she seems to like coming back to the Birth Control Bed & Breakfast so often.

This place is loud, this place is crazy, and here, Magali, ends up becoming a safety security officer. I can't vouch for how many near heart attacks she's had here, but I'm thinking it's good for her sprint training!

She also ends up having long, in depth conversations with Mini-Husband and The Princess about all kinds of matters of life and living. They'll be huddled around the dining room table, conversation flowing, using a level of French that gets reserved only for native speakers. All three of them, discussing, challenging, sharing. It's beautiful to see your kids interested and enthralled by your friend.

Magali is a wonderful find. She's become our good friend and the kids' tante.

I'm ever so glad she showed up on the running site. And I'm even more glad that she's not really a bald, 40 year old man wearing a sports bra on her head.