A home with a view

There's a sense in which I never get attached to walls. Not unless they're pretty damn special, that is, as in, made of something other than concrete and cardboard, and actually pretty, not covered in white, flaky stuff that's designed to show off spiders and stains.

There's no place like home

  I've lived in a few houses. My dad was not a fireman or anything like that (they tend to move a lot, don't they?) and I don't think I'm a big traveller, but I was born in my parents' house in the suburbs of Paris, a lovely house, big, with a small garden that had a big tree. I left it when I was 4 years old and yet I remember it as my real home.

After that I moved quite a lot, I even stayed at my grandparents', moved to my boyfriend's tiny studio flat and finally, at the age of 17, to Paris. We lived in the 7th arrondissement, near the Invalides (we were lucky, it was cheap and cosy) for five years.

New shoes

Oh dear. Both my children are at school. It's official, I have no more babies.

I wish I were a little mouse, to see what they're up to. I know Alex has a few fiancées, not that he told me, but he did receive a postcard with so many hearts on it that he found it difficult to read. "Ah, girls.." he said. He's not even 7, yet.

As for Roxane, she kindly but firmly told her father: "You can go, now, I'm OK". She's just 3.

They're more grown-ups than I am. I was terrified for Roxane, her first day at school ever, you see. It was a big deal. To me. To her, it's just a new adventure.

I wish I were a child again, I wish I wouldn't worry so much. I wish I could go back to school, have a new backpack, pens, pencils, paint, brushes and a new outfit, and only care about what we'll have for lunch.

Given that I really can't do this, I'll treat myself with a new pair of shoes. I know, it has nothing to do with it, but I needed a reason ;)

Bonne rentrée, everyone!

Oh, one last thing. If you liked this post, would you mind terribly clicking on the RSS feed, here, or the Google connect buttons (top left), or by email at the bottom of this page? And if you didn't like it, you might still want to look around. There's three of us, you know, so you're (almost) bound to find something you like. And then, if you've still got time, you could share this post or stumble it, or both and get in touch with your local tv station to sing our praises. We'll love you forever.

La rentree

Back for another year, full of hopes and frustrations.





Hopefully the school bus will take them.
Hopefully Charlotte won't be late every morning.
Hopefully the time table will work out.
Hopefully we'll have proper help for Max.
Hopefully he won't refuse to go whenever he doesn't feel like it.
Hopefully I bought all the supplies they needed.
Hopefully the covers I made for their books won't fall off tomorrow.
Hopefully they'll have enough decent clothes to wear to school every day.

I can dance like a zombie

 For our Weekend Charter this week, we've chose the theme 'Dance'. When I agreed to it, I thought at first I was humouring my sister - I don't do much dancing this days outside my kitchen, not just because I don't go out so much but also because Turkish pop and I don't get on that well. I'm picky.

But then I remembered what we did last autumn.  And there, I felt, is a story worth telling.

Look, Maman, there's this really fat zombie in the Michael Jackson video. If he can do the dance routine, so can you!

With this encouragement under my belt, I decide that Yes, my daughter and I are going to take part in the 2009 Thrill the World dance event. Our friend Jo is organising the Ankara event right here, on campus. She's sent out ads on facebook and pasted them all over the place. There's to be rehearsals, for four weeks beforehand, weekday evenings and a couple of hours on Saturday mornings. 'Im indoors is onboard with this. He'll take Max shopping Saturdays while we rehearse.

My husband has it all. So do I. What are you going to do about it?

Disclaimer: I really don't mean this to come across as a criticism of stay at home mums - only those people, men or women, working or not, parents or not, who claim that it's the only valid choice. Also, I don't normally read Good Housekeeping or the Daily Mail!

J has two children and a full time job. J is, on the whole, happy, fulfilled, and wouldn't dream of giving up either children or career. 

How likely is this scenario?

Well, according to some people, including actress Emma Thompson in an interview for Good Housekeeping, and Lorraine Candy in the Daily Mail, it is highly unlikely for about 50% of the population of developed countries, and highly likely for the other half. Does it depend on how fulfilling the job is, how well-paid, how good an access to childcare A has, and A's other living conditions? You'd think these things would make a difference - working in a factory 10 hours a day to support three kids single handedly while living in a tiny flat may make for a slightly less satisfying life than an interesting writing or teaching job, a partner who also earns, two kids and a house.

I want it all and I want it now

Dear fans (yeah, I know, but it feels good to write this) I'm sorry I've been away for a little while, but my life has been a tad hectic these past few weeks. I'm back, though. For good. Because I miss writing, and because I'm starting to take Sandrine's threats pretty seriously. Man, she's scary.

Yesterday, Sandrine the Barbarian sent me a link to an unbelievable article on the Web. Some Carrie Bradshaw wannabe published a note on how women had it all and it wasn't progress at all. So basically, having a husband, a job, kids and a dog is too much to handle and we, women, should probably choose between having kids and a career. Now, let me react to that in the most sensible manner: BULLSHIT.

Seeing the archelogical sights of the Turkish Aegean with kids. Part 2

This is the second part of my post on how to travel with kids in the agean. For the first part, dealing with transport and entrance fees, go here.

Water

The sites are all hot. Ruins don't exactly provide much shade... So make sure you're taking plenty of water. And I mean plenty: go for one litre per person per site. Even for the smallies. Also, you might want to bring snacks for the children just to keep them going.

Efes is particularly hard going for a child. It is less 'wild' than Priene, for instance, so there's less climbing allowed, it is a steep climb in the heat to visit the theatres, and the site itself is long and uphill. You might want to consider taking a horse drawn carriage at the entrance. It will take you round the back, pausing at the cave of the seven sleepers (an attractive ruin of a church with some fun legend attach to it). You then get on the site from the top, which makes it a lot less painful to see the whole site. The price of the ride is not negligible, but, believe me, it's worth it.

 So very hot...

Seeing the archeological sites of the Turkish Aegean with kids. Part 1

Whether you are living in Turkey or just visiting, chances are, you'll be wanting to visit the historical sites of the Agean. And if you've got kids, you shouldn't let that put you off. Over the last ten years we have taken our children (now 11 and 8) many times, and we have seen an increasing number of young families on the sites. Before you set off, though, you might want a few pointers about practicalities.

Weekend Charter: How I lost four pianos.

For this Weekend Charter Marianne and I decided to write about music. So being lazy and all, I decided to recycle something I'd posted as a Facebook note a while back. So, facebook friends, I apologize - you'll have already seen a version of this!

My first piano came to me when I was younger than Max. It was brown, rented, and was swiftly replaced by a white one. I learnt to play on the white piano, taking lessons from a prim, angora wearing, teacher from the conservatoire and later a very tall jazz pianist with hands big as steaks. I was not especially talented or hard working and by the time I was eleven, it was clear I would never become a concert pianist, a restaurant pianist, or indeed, any kind of pianist. On Christmas of that year, we had to leave the family home in a hurry. Our mother was granted custody of the children, but not, unfortunately, of the piano. By the time the piano followed us, I was fifteen, and it was out of tune.

Who took the fun out of the fair? Or why I am a wimp and my daughter isn't.

Two days ago I took my daughter to the funfair. Her first. She loved it. She had this huge smile plastered on her face the whole time we were there. Even when her eyes were screwed close and she was holding on to her neighbours' arm for dear life.

We went to Luna Park, in Ankara. It's a big traditional affair, with some new rides and some seriously old ones too. A lot of the rides are for over 12s and Charlotte, a small 11, got turned back quite a few times. She did, however, manage to sneak in to the two storey ghost train, the caterpillar ride, and the ship that goes up and down. She did not succeed in blagging her way in the roller coaster, for which I was grateful indeed.

I think sports hate me

I started playing tennis when I was 4 years old and my mother finally agreed to let me stop when I turned 14. I can hear you thinking, "my, she must be pretty good ". Er, no. Not really. I think I disliked it instantly. Not tennis per se, but the whole running everywhere after a ball, going there every Wednesday when I could have been at home playing or annoying my sisters, you know, kids stuff. But she insisted, just like she didn't allow me to quit playing the piano, which I studied for 10 years, also. And , er, no I can't play the piano, by the way. I'd really like to learn again now, doing what I want and not just classical pieces. I'd learn jazz and I'd be able to play by ear -something which I was able to do really early on, but was never allowed to pursue because of 'discipline'.

I don't like football. It's a feminist issue.

I don't have anything against football, really. I hear it's very popular with little girls in the United States.

I don't have much of a reason to complain either: my husband isn't a great football fan - he can take it or leave it. He's more into cricket, and, as he points out, that's the ideal spectator sport for a family man: you just put the radio on and get on with your day to day business. So this rant is purely on your behalf. Selfless. 

We're back!

Before I left for our trip to the south of Turkey, I asked God to give me a sign. Then two things happened.

I'll never know what these things were because as the woman sitting next to me started to type the first bullet point the steward came and asked her to switch her blackberry off.

No, madam, it has to be switched off completely during landing. Please switch it off completely now. Please. Yes, Madam, like that.

Baggage claim

Sandrine and I were supposed to write the week end charter on packing. She found the theme, she suggested it - she does that a lot, maybe I should think more about WE charters, let's put this on my list of notes to self, shall we? and I agreed.

Then, my life took a rather disturbing turn and I had to decline the invitation and forget about this blogging thing. Later on today, I read her brilliant post about procastinating, thought about how we can't just be one thing. And then I thought about that whole packing thing. And I came up with this.

My own private vampire

OK, so when Sandrine suggested this WE charter, I was really excited. At first, that is. Because soon enough, right after the 'Oh, great, I love this show' I thought 'Yeah, but what can I say that hasn't been said already?"I mean, there are hundreds of websites, blogs and Facebook pages about it, so it is a challenge.

The whole Vampire Bill vs Eric Northman thing and other important truths about True Blood.

 A blogger I really like, Gappy from Single Parenthood, recently posted about True Blood. I'd like to pretend that her excellent post is what prompted me to suggest it as a weekend charter theme, but truth is, Marianne and I have been obsessing about the show for some time, and as the date for the release of season 3 approaches (13 June, also happens to be my daughter's birthday!) it's getting a bit out of hand. So I was hoping that blogging about it would be cathartic, and that for a couple of weeks my mind would be free to focus on something else (my book for instance, or the article I thought I'd finish this month). Ok, it's really just another excuse to talk about my favourite show.

Week end charter : Marianne's Cuba not so libre

I’m not even a real ex-pat, having only lived abroad for a few months. But since I left Paris, France for Holguin, Cuba right after I’d finished business school, I guess I can call mysef that. I could write 100 posts about my stay in Cuba. Had the internet been easier to access back then, I so would have blogged about it. But it’s been ten years, now. When Sandrine suggested this week’s theme, I realized how bored I am talking about Cuba. 

You know the feeling, I’m sure: we’ve all done something extraordinary, at least once, in our life. You rode an elephant, hunted a bear, killed a snake with your bare hands, met Alexander Skarsgard on a plane* and each time you meet someone new, there will come a moment when you will tell the story. And, except if it’s very recent, you’ll realize you’ll be telling it the exact same way as the time before. People don’t want to hear how the elephant was in fact very small, the bear blind and the snake already dying : they want to hear something exciting.

How to save your marriage (and Mary Poppins) in the kitchen

BIG APOLOGY TO THOSE MEN WHO DO ROUTINELY COOK FOR THEIR FAMILY AND DON'T MAKE A MESS! THIS ISN'T ABOUT YOU.


Yeah, yeah, yeah, we've all heard it, men don't cook. At least not everyday cooking: they won't have dinner ready on the table when the children are hungry. Or if they do, they've cooked something entirely inappropriate and made such a mess in the kitchen that Mary Poppins' frantic finger snapping and spoonful of sugar singing will cause her to have a heart attack. Then you'll have a messy kitchen and a dead Mary Poppins. Great.

Week end Charter : Marianne's version

Our theme this week was suggested by Irem:

Fastest yummiest recipes for real life working people. Bonus points if men can enjoy being involved in their preparation.

In my experience, there are not many ways to involve men in cooking. That is, except if you married Mr. Perfect who’ll cook for you way after the honeymoon period is over– the honeymoon period being the first three years in a couple’s life. If you did marry Mr. Perfect, then go away. I mean it. Now.*

OK, now that we are amongst normal women, let’s go on. I was supposed to write fast and yummy recipes, but I’m only interested in the bonus points. By the way, what do I get for that?Nothing, I guess. This blog thing is totally useless, but that might also be the reason I like it so much. 

I love lists, so I figured I’d make one for you ladies, a very important one, drum roll:10 ways to involve men in cooking. Ha, I knew you’d be interested.