Happy Halloween.

Soren and I went to Angers in search of a Halloween costume. We found none. We did find a night light of an unidentifiable (to me) superhero. I assumed that we did not need to buy any Halloween candy because we are in France and Halloween is an American holiday. Naturally an hour ago our doorbell rang and we opened it to two costumed french children bearing baskets. It was their first Halloween. Since we had no candy on hand, I offered them two pommes potes (a squeezeable applesauce) and two sealed packets of cookies. I feel fairly lame since we are the only Americans in this town and we failed to provide any Halloween spirit. Maybe someone will TP our lawn.

Parc Oustiti.

I took Soren to an indoor amusement park packed with kids on school vacation. It was mania all around. Most of the kids were much older (the park claims 0-12 years, but it is probably more like 4-12. I am not sure what a child who did not walk securely could do). I let Soren go in most of the bouncy houses and in a giant pool filled with balls. In these he was most often the youngest kid by a number of years. I hovered near the entrances and wanted to jump in and drag him back to safety, but I restrained myself and he survived just fine. He was at turns thrilled, terrified, and unable to gain his footing. The bigger kids, when they noticed him, were very kind. It was what might happen when they did not notice him that I feared. At the end, we entered a tranquil room filled with professional makeup artists who were painting kids faces and Soren wanted to get his done. I thought that he would not be able to sit still long enough, but he was transfixed.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

I Want One...

This Amazing Toadstool. For me, not the kid.

Update 12nov08: Oh no! The link no longer produces a toadstool. I hope they are not sold out.

Aaah.

I am able to relax most at nap time. I think it is because you are sleeping and so I am relieved of any latent guilt that I may feel when you are awake and I am not with you. Sometimes those naps are the most productive hours of the day for me, like the whole morning of you playing with someone else is just me gearing up to actually get to it once you are soundly asleep. Because if you are asleep you are dreaming of lizards anyway and do not need me to be anywhere other than nearby.

My Life:

While reading through old notes in preparation for a fellowship application I happen upon the following:

1. problems in creating paint in various colors: what available, how mixed with binding medium, and what the effects of these colors were; "knowing how to mix properly was a technical skill that required training, not understood by lay people."

HTTP://WWW.WHOLESOMEBABYFOOD.COM/CEREALS.HTMpliny--visit by Alexander the Great to Apelles' studio (35.85) told him to keep quiet because the boys who were mixing the paint were laughing at him

After Discussing The Differences in our Jobs.

J: I have a problem...

P: They sell a cream for that you know.

J: ?!?

I am over my word count again on this critical bibliographic essay.

Night-weaning, please

I still nurse the little gnome at night, once at around midnight and then in the morning sometime in the hours before he actually gets up (I am going to guess 4:30/5, but I am not really sure as I am doing my best not to be awake as well). From 7pm until midnight he sleeps in his crib. He then wakes up and screams for Mama! and Boob! (yes, he really uses that word). I then bring him into our bed and nurse him back to sleep and he stays in bed with us for the rest of the night. If I try not to nurse him in the morning, he screams and thrashes around and eventually wakes himself up whatever the hour and then cannot be convinced to return to sleep even if I do offer him the boob. This seems like a lose/lose situation. The problem is that I have begun waking up angry and I am really starting to resent these intrusions into my sleep. I am happy to continue nursing during the day and I am probably ok with continuing to co-sleep for part of the night (although our bed here is much smaller than our bed in SF), but I really want him to kick the night-nursing habit.

Any advice?

Hair.

I have been trimming the little gnome's hair. Up to now he has kept his baby hair, or whatever grew in after the first round fell out, except for two trimmings of his bangs by Miss Jennifer L. You can track the moment, about six inches ago, when his hair changed from blond to brown because the bottom half of his hair is blond and the top brown. I really like his long locks, although the confusion over his sex can be tiresome. Lately the length has seemed a bit too much for his face and so I began my attempts to turn him into a little duplo figure. You know those little lego people (the old-school ones) with helmets of plastic hair, perfectly straight across the forehead bangs and a longer bob? Sort of like plastic fairytale kids?

Well, I have met with a few problems: he does not like to have his hair cut. Watching youtube videos of Lisa Loeb and some other lady singing Stop/Go or Elmo and Norah Jones singing Don't Know Why is not a sufficient distraction from my shears. In fact, he sort of turned towards me, batted away the shears and turned back, as through to say "Can't you see I am watching something here?". So, the result is less boxy and duplo than my fantasy cut. It is also much more crooked. There are little jags across the forehead rather than a solid block of hair. And I really did not get to the sides and back, so he just has some short, crooked bangs with long wispy sides. I had hoped to transform the sides into a cute little bob, but I am not sure what to distract him with while I do this. There is also the issue that I am not skilled with the shears. Anytime I have taken them to my own hair I have had to seek professional correction. Perhaps I should just get myself a doll and leave the little gnome alone.

Psychomotricite.

I took Soren to a psychomotricite class this morning. It took me several days to figure out how to say this word. I am still not quite sure what it is, but it was held at the same building that held the library reading last Thursday. The class involved La maitresse de Psychmotricite, two nannies and their charges, and Soren and me. She, la Maitresse, had placed various squares of carpet of various materials and textures all around the room. We were all then encouraged to walk over the different squares with bare feet. After that there were a few obstacle course like offerings and finally we massaged one another with balls of various sizes and textures. It was not un-fun, but I am still surprised that it is "a thing", a formal practice and class. I suppose we will try it again next month. I especially enjoyed the prickly carpet that felt like those massage sandals.

30.

I turned 30 yesterday. It was a lovely day in which I did nothing in particular. Peter and I walked around Angers in the morning while Soren was with NayNay. We walked around in the way I prefer to, with no agenda, just dipping in and out of shops and alleys and looking around. We had gallettes for lunch, mine with smoked duck, spinach and onions. After that we came home and Soren and I took advantage of the first sunny day in a few. We saw the neighbors (no school on Wednesdays) and Soren shifted his obsession from Anais to her sister, repeating Fanny, Fanny, and following her around. She, five and the middle child, seemed quite at ease in this role. Later we went to the park and there were kids out once again. It was a calm day for parenting. NayNay made me a choco-choco cake for which the baker had lent him butter since the grocery store is closed on Wednesday afternoons. Once Soren was in bed, Peter and I went out to dinner at L'Etoile d'Or, one of the three restaurants in La Pointe. On all of our previous attempts to eat here, it was closed, but last night we were in luck and they were serving dinner. The dining room has the feel of an old parlor and the food was tasty. After dinner, I went to bed. Just like that it was over and now I am in my thirties. I wanted to feel some kind of anxiety about aging or some sense of passage, but to be honest, it was all very normal.

It Is Not How It Sounds...

My Friend: Wait, you are living in the Loire Valley with your nanny?

Me: Yes.

My Friend: You know, I have a bong and a bag of Doritos within easy reach...

Me: Ha!

My Friend: No judgments, I am just noting the distance between us at present.

Little Fish.

I was sad to leave behind La Petite Baleen, where the little gnome was slowly transforming into a little fish (although sometimes a tearful fish). Luckily I met another mom at yoga* this morning who knew where to find swimming lessons in Angers. Now we just need to enroll. The plus side, an entire year of weekly lessons costs the equivalent of two months at LPB.

If you want to take your baby swimming in Angers too, you can find the info here.

* and if you are looking for yoga in Angers, you can find it with David Le Barzic, a former phd-turned-yogi.

Change.

Something we would like out of this journey, in addition to the completion of my dissertation research (no small thing, that), is the opportunity to make some changes to our daily lives. We each, in different ways, were feeling crowded and unhealthy and had slipped into habits that surprised us, but were hard to shake.

Travel tends to shake these things off a bit. Some people suggest trying to quit smoking in a completely new environment, because in the old one there are too many signposts that suggest that you smoke and all you feel is the lack you have just introduced into your life. Already we have begun to feel the impact of these changes, a bit thinner, a bit more exercised, more space in the day, the head. I forgot, however, that changes are not always pure pleasure, that even things that you believe you want (more time, for example) may not greet you with a kiss.

If last week I was overjoyed with the pleasures of country life, with space and unstructured time and solitude, this week I feel the (a) city's lack. Of people and activity and noise and grime (although dirt there is a-plenty out here). I am, however, happy with some of the small differences in or daily lives. As we have noticed small changes that we have made already, like not spending each evening after dinner fiddling around on our computers next to one another on the couch, we have talked about how to bring those changes back with us to wherever we land after this. I am enjoying driving less and walking more. I like having my own desk. Peter likes having his own office, with a door. I feel better if I eat actual meals instead of random things grabbed from the corner store throughout the day. These are all details, but they add up. And it is possible, when one steps away for a spell, to imagine how they could exist where one was before (almost) as easily as they do here.

We Found Some Kids...

This afternoon we drove, after an extended trip in search of gas, back to the area of this morning's story time to attend the parent/child playtime. The building I was trying to describe is called the espace enfance. Anyway, we eventually made it thanks to a map scrawled on the back of my directions from google by the man who runs the grocery store. It was a very pleasant afternoon. Two adults from the center are there to facilitate the children's play as needed and/or to talk to the parents. They have set up a bit of tea for the adults and there are loads of toys. When you enter, you write the name of your child and his/her age on a white board along with your name. Soren was very happy to be amongst other kids, a little boy very close in age to him and one slightly older, and it was nice for me to have a few people to talk to in my awkward french. The offer this playtime every Thursday from 3-6pm. Thanks to the french government, it costs only 50 cents. We will definitely go back.

I think that I underestimated how much harder changing locations is with a child. So much of one's life is oriented towards creating a routine for the child that it is especially destabilizing for you, as well as for the child, to change it. I used to be able to slip in and out of languages and countries with what now seems like extreme ease. For some reason this time it seems much harder. Perhaps it is also the change from living in the city to the country. I think that having this play space on Thursdays will help us both to feel less isolated.

Toto.

I suppose it was inevitable that the shine of new experience would wear off a bit, but it has still caught me a bit off guard. It turns out that all of the children who frolicked in the park and played so happily with Soren disappear when the weather turns. Unlike a large metropolis filled with people who live in small spaces and thus pour out into public spaces no matter the weather, in a small village of spacious houses, people stay inside when it is wet. What worries me is that it will be wet for months to come.

And school. All of the big kids (3+) are in school until 4:45pm with a midday break of two hours for lunch. That means that the only time to encounter them is at the end of Soren's day. This morning my neighbor, a dentist and mother of three, took me to a story time in the larger village next door (Bouchemaine. La Pointe is adjacent, but uses the post office and library of Bouchemaine). It was fine, as story times go, and in a absolutely lovely facility designed for small children, with little chairs and child-sized everything throughout. As at the Mission Library storytime, Soren did not really sit to listen, although he did spend the first ten minutes sitting down in every available little chair. The story time lacked the singing that makes the mission one so good. And of course it lacked Leila and Juniper and Clementine. So that was sad for us.

After the story time, we stopped by a neighboring child facility called an Halte Garderie, which is something like a drop-in daycare center. At any one time they have no more than 12 children with one head teacher and two assistants. The children are all presumably under 3 because they are not yet in school. Like the other building, everything here was child-sized. Even the flush toilets! The woman who runs the center seemed really knowledgeable and very encouraging about having Soren come in to be around other children and to learn french. While we were talking Soren was pressing his face against the gate to get to the children inside, some of whom were also pressing up against their side of the gate. One even asked if Soren wanted to play with bikes (I did not see any), so apparently he shared Soren's obsession. After we had gone through the details of the center, the mistress asked if we wanted to let Soren and Anais play for a few minutes while she showed us the rest of the facility. We did. In those few minutes Anais played happily to one side with Manon. Soren ran around some of the climbing equipment with a few other children and pinched every one of them on the face. Each time a child approached him, he grabbed his or her face. After the third, I took him out of the playspace. What was so sad about it is that he seemed so excited to see the other children and to have the opportunity to play with them. When presented with the opportunity, however, he went into face-attack mode. The woman who runs the center did not seem worried or upset. She said that face grabbing was very normal when getting to know a group and place. The two assistants, however, looked like they thought a feral animal had just been let loose in their center.

After that the farmer's market, where the one farmer was completely overwhelmed by the many patrons and we had to wait ages to buy our vegetables and the banana that Soren could see right in front of him. Finally, the banana, quiet, and now asleep. I am going to take him back to the parent/child meetup this afternoon at the same place as the story time was, but at the moment I am feeling a bit overwhelmed. I am sad that we have left our friends and Soren's right at this time in his life when he is learning so much so fast and seems to crave the company of other children. I know that this was our choice and in some ways that make it feel a little bit worse. I think that there are many parts of this experience that will be wonderful for him, but what we left behind is pretty wonderful too.

Size matters.

Despite my proclamation about all of the children wanting to play with Soren, we were at the park yesterday with a five year-old boy who seemed rather indifferent. He had brought his soccer/football and his dad and little brother and he seemed to want to kick the ball around by himself in front of them. Naturally Soren was not at all attuned to this and hotly pursued the ball. The boy's father and I conversed about the joys of country life (he is a former Parisian) while his son and mine played a strange game of ball, Soren grabbing and kicking a foot or so, the other boy trying to escape him by kicking the ball a different direction. He was not mean about it, but he was not particularly interested in playing with pint-size. At some point his father went over and spoke to him for a moment and after that he started passing the ball to Soren rather than away from him. His father came back to the picnic table and explained that he had told his son that Soren was a little American boy and that had suitably impressed his son to ignite interest in kicking the ball with him. Apparently the little boy asked his father why Soren was not very big, since he expected an American boy, even a one and half year-old, to be much bigger than he.

kourotrophos.

while looking for something else entirely, i came across this book on Greek nursing deities.

No, I have not just joined a mother-goddess cult.

An iphone Tour of La Pointe.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

We left our camera in San Francisco, but here is a quick tour of our village as pictured by my iphone.

Sweet.

Apparently the waters of the Loire have some sort of gentling effect on young children. For reasons that we cannot quite pin down, the kids in this village are incredibly sweet. And not just the littlest ones. In our many playgrounds in San Francisco, Peter and I can think of one example of a child of around five who willingly played with Soren and did not try to keep him out of the game or laugh at him. Most of the slightly older kids were indifferent to the little ones, but some were actively mean. I really did not think much of it at the time, other than to be prepared to intervene when he approached kids slightly older than he. I have to prepared when he approaches kids his own age too, but then because I am afraid his hug will extend into a bite, but that is a different issue altogether. Anyway, we have only been here a few days and are fully prepared to meet the village bully at some point, but up to now he or she has not made her presence known. Instead the slightly older kids have approached me to ask whether they can include Soren in their games, have held his hand while walking along the path or hiding during a game, and have generally seemed more concerned about his safety than he is. It is quite refreshing to watch and also less work for me! Perhaps there is something about growing up in a very small community in which there are only a handful of children at each age that accustoms them to playing across the ages.

Un Bateau for Soren.

The village in which we are living sits along the place where the Maine river flows in the Loire. It is a fishing village. Tiny dingies dot the river, each with a single fisherman and his line. This morning Soren and I walked to the neighboring village to visit its weekly farmer's market, which consisted of an amply-stocked single stall and a fish cart. To get there, we walked along the river and looked for boats. A boat, un bateau, we said each time we spotted one. Leaves are falling from the trees along the path and he collected bunches of them and handed them to me, saying "Merci Bo-poo" with a huge smile.

Later in the day we walked back from the school with the older kids and their parents. Our neighbor has two kids in school and one Soren's age and she asked if we wanted to join on the walk. Soren was thrilled to arrive at school and find himself surrounded by Kids! We met Vincent, the eldest and only boy of the La Pointe crew and the older brother of Juliette and Manon. He is a loquacious and very patient little boy of seven. He prevented Soren from launching himself into the Loire while the kids were throwing sticks into the water. He pushed Soren along on Manon's trike, even arranging his feet up on the fender since they did not reach her pedals. Soren asked Vincent to carry him several times and he complied, although I think Soren was quite heavy for him.

At some point Soren said Oui and Vincent added that to the list he was keeping of words in french that Soren can say. So far the list is four words: bateau, oui, merci, and merci beaucoup. He is in a phase of his language learning in which he adds words in english every day and has started joining words, mostly to ascribe possession (Papa's sock), but tonight he offered me "Thank you Mama". I am not certain whether he knows that these french words are in a different language or whether they are just entering his vocabulary along with everything else.

La Pointe Crew & the Matter of Socrates.

I meant to continue the tale of Socrates le pisseur. It began with Michele's suggestion that I bring a bunch of never-before-seen toys on the airplane to help keep the little gnome occupied on the 10+ hour flight. Joanna and Leila oversaw the selection of two dinosaur finger puppets, a monkey hand puppet, a top, a brio puppy stacker, and an orange koosh that glowed when you whacked it (until the little gnome removed the glowball inside). To these I added Baby Max and a finger puppet of Socrates acquired at the Getty some time ago.

We stored most of these in the trunki, that was a moderate success. Its presence did not prevent the little gnome from pursuing the suitcases of other, but it did provide some airport amusement. I was cursing it while trying to get off of the TGV, but I am getting ahead of myself. So, on the flight (during which Calliope was a true star) we placed the various finger puppets on hooks on the seats in front of us and they could be called into action as needed. Although he enjoyed all of the toys, the finger puppets were the greatest success. He especially liked putting his finger inside them. We also placed a cup in the cup holder and somehow ended up having Baby Max use it as a potty. This involved Soren removing all of Baby Max's clothes and diaper (projecting?) and me stuffing Max into the plastic cup. We then pretended Max was peeing for quite some time. Then I asked whether the Teradactyl needed to use the potty. She did. And the T-Rex. And finally Socrates. Does Socrates need to use the potty? Of course. And so we dangled Socrates by his arms over the open cup and narrated his business. Thus passed the airplane ride.

Our few days in Paris were excellent, save navigating the city with our obscene amount of luggage. I was very conscious of my insistence on providing un-asked-for details (we are staying for a while, not just a vacation) lest someone think we were merely insane vacationers. This, the providing of un-asked-for details, seemed about as un-French as traveling with so much luggage on vacation. We had also agreed to take Nathan's baggage to La Pointe for him since he had gone on a short trip to visit friends elsewhere. This meant we had to get to Angers by train with six full-sized suitcases, three carry-on sized bags, two backpacks, my purse, Soren's trunki, the car seat* and the Stokke stroller*. It was nuts, required that we take two separate taxis to the station in Paris, and we might not have ever gotten on the train except that we met with a dynamic father-son team able to load all of these bags on two delivery carts (the kind the guy delivering beer to your store uses) and take these down the escalator and load everything onto the train. Without them, we would have been sunk. Anyway, if you are ever debating whether to ship or to pack your things, it is probably wiser to pack. More expensive, perhaps, but with all of the tips you'll be shelling out for assistance, it might come close. Anyway, we made it out of the station and into a super-sized taxi on the Angers side and were able to get to our house. We might need some deep tissue work though, especially Peter.

In Paris we saw Isabel, Daniel and their new baby, Alexia (just three months). They are both such relaxed parents and have been gifted with an equally relaxed baby who already sleeps eight hours or more at night and puts herself to sleep for naps. Quite amazing. I will say that they well deserve her calm demeanor after Isabel's birth story, but I will let her tell you that one.

Today, our first full day in La Pointe, we walked along the Loire, which is clear and beautiful during the day and a bit ominous and Sylvia Plath at night. The leaves are falling and Soren spent a while gathering them. Later we met our neighbors (our houses actually share a wall) at the playground and another family and Soren began to get to know his La Pointe Crew. The youngest children of these families are Anais and Manon. Anais is a few days older than Soren and the youngest of three girls. Manon is two months older than Anais and Soren and the youngest of three as well. I told Soren that Anais reminded me of Oona and he started calling her that instead of Anais, which he had been saying earlier in the day. Oops, I should have kept that one to myself. But they are both, Anais and Oona, delicately pretty with easy smiles and a calm reserve. Manon seems full of energy and was rolling along the lawn with Soren. She even protested when he offered Anais two kisses and her only one. Bisou, Bisou, she demanded. The parents were very welcoming to us, although I think the whole village is sad that Loic and Michelle and their kids are away for so long. Of course, we miss our SF crew as well, and Soren his Juniper, Alma and Oona. Bisous to you three.

*we purchased a rolling case for the carseat (there is also a backpack version) and a rolling travel case that Stokke sells to go with the stroller and both were worth it.

La Pointe!

We and our many many suitcases made it to La Pointe this evening. The house is lovely and there is a custom made playhouse overlooking a tiny body of water (pond? puddle?). I made the mistake of showing Soren the playhouse first and then could not get him to go inside for ages. Peter and I had to trade off watching him play with the ball, no the toy lawnmower, no the scooter, so that we could each look through the house. There are exposed wooden beams everywhere and lots of child-sized chairs. The only problem we ran into is that Calliope trips the motion-sensitive alarm, so we returned from dinner to a lot of noise and a very stressed puppy. Other than that, the village is peaceful and the house will be a wonderful place in which to live and work (and play). More soon.

Does Socrates Need to Go Potty?

this was a long post, but it got erased. no time left on my card.

to be continued...