Swimming, Strollers, and Sex appeal

Being in the city of culture, I'm determined to show my kids everything I can. I took Ruby to the Rodin Museum and explored the lovely gardens with the best parenting intentions of pointing out prominent statues and stunning works of art. Unfortunately she slept through the whole thing, but it was very peaceful for me. We're off to see the Gorilla exposition at Le Palais de la Decouvertes this weekend, plus there's a Walt Disney exhibit on Snow White at Le Grand Palais to see, and also unpublished naked pictures of Marilyn Monroe at Musee Maillol (on my own I think!), and of course Hot Wheels Monster Trucks is coming in October, an absolute must see of course!
Had our first French swimming experience. Speedoes and swimming caps are ‘obligataire’. What a sight seeing my family in their get-ups; Ruby in her too big red and white cap and goggles with Ariel costume halfway up her bum, Tom unsuccessfully trying to tuck his now very long hair in the cap, Sam fully yobbed up with Pirates of the Caribbean tattoos on both arms. I’ve decided I’m allowed to be exempt from swimming as my huge head of hair certainly would not fit in a cap! The pool we went to was like Cell Block H, with security measures to match. Not hugely enjoyable, so we're off to Aquaboulevard next week, the biggest waterpark in Europe and only 10 minutes away!
We have been told off countless times here for various reasons, the French love to tell you off! Firstly, the nasty bus police on Day 2, then a park warden shouted about kicking a ball on the grass (when there were others doing the same around us??), swimming pool security checking for locks of hair coming out of swimming caps, Ruby climbing trees near Grand Palais, walking on the wrong centimetre of grass!! Living on tenterhooks a bit, and when you don’t always understand the language things are easily misinterpreted, or maybe it’s just a case of regular foreign abuse in a control freak country. I mistakenly got very annoyed with an older lady who I thought was telling me off for something on the bus but she was actually explaining that she was going to hold the door open for me…getting too paranoid!
The kids are a nightmare on the metro, officially. Ruby’s pole dancing is causing a stir, complete with gyrating and tongue licking pole action, and Sam just torments his sister til she screams and steps on other people’s feet, to the delight of the other travellers. They are however, better behaved on the bus…..just.
Our diets seem to consist of gazpacho, apples, baguettes, wine and pistachios (too knackered in the evening to cook most of the time!) Once we’ve mastered the French language we’ll master the French cuisine, but for now this diet combined with all this walking means my thighs are shrinking, hurray! We’re both not in a hurry to join a gym, let’s put it that way. And we’ll be the full French Tarzan and Jane if we don’t find coiffures soon!
It is amazing the different effect pushing a pram has on the sexes; for example, I get far more ‘Bonjour madame’ s when I’m not pushing one, but Tom gets far more sexy smiles when he is pushing one. He’s even gone so far as to get me to put Ruby’s hair up all cutesy because he gets more attention that way – the nerve!!!
Saving grace – have not stepped in merde du chien as of yet.
What we’re missing – cheddar cheese (tres expensive!), mashed potatoes (cannot find a masher anywhere! Have only seen instant mash in grocery store), and surprisingly, NOT telly. Have attempted watching ER in French, but it’s confusing enough in English, I couldn’t handle the already hectic dialogue in French.

Shopping and more

Fed up with the commute, after picking Ruby up I decide to cross Franklin Roosevelt Bridge and visit Champs Elysee. The Seine, Eiffel Tower, Arc De Triomphe, Concorde, Grand Palais, are all around me, with the Louvre in the distance. To view all of these sites within ten minutes walking distance from my daughter's school is mindblowing.
Amidst the fashion elite of Paris I am feeling a little underdressed in my jeans and skechers. Trying not to look too obvious the American tourist, I try my French out every chance I get and find the men appreciate it more (apparently zit is very sexee to try to speak Fraanch to zee Fraanchmaan, think of how sexy we find them trying to speak English!)
I find myself in Zara, (the only mother with a pram I might add), whilst all the other coiffed French girls look at me with disgust as I repeatedly say ‘excuse-et-moi’, so tempting to run over their pointy toed shoes with my pram in the process. Then I successfully manage to ask for a different size in French, but they immediately know you’re not French and answer in english.....tres annoying!
Then I visit what has to be the most expensive shopping mall in the world, Champs Elysee 26, with marble floors and fountains and shops that only Michael Jackson's eclectic taste would cater to, the wealth is staggering......I've just gone in to use the public toilettes which are very chic indeed, too good for our peasant poop surely.
Walking back around the corner from Champs Elysee, I see a very tall, thin, model esque brunette stop to take her heels off and put flip flops on, stuffing her Manolos in her huge handbag. I smirk, hah, they’re feet aren’t made of steel after all!!
· Saving grace - Retail therapy definitely works, and I've discovered a home away from home on our very own street; a Parisian version of Scallywags called Bambin Troc, a lovely looking restaurant called Lucas, and a funky jewellery shop called Lotty!

Week Two

Could things possibly be getting ever so slightly easier??? I hear a thousand ‘I told you so’s!’ reverberating across the world, but hey, the first week was always going to be hell and it’s very difficult to look past that when you don’t know what’s ahead.

Things that have made it a bit easier are:
- Tom doing the first school run (which means I only have 2 to do instead of 3!)
- Sam scooting to school has helped his whinge factor but increased Ruby’s as she wants to scoot too.
- Picking up every leaflet and bit of info on how to survive in Paris. These will be my bible and I will study them every day.
- Getting to know my way around a little bit, not getting lost as much, realising that the best place to get on the bus with a pram is in the middle to avoid terrible accidents.
- My French classes are giving me a little more confidence, Marguerite is going to take me out next week to get some hands on experience shopping, etc..
- The stunning scenery around us is hard to miss, even in stressful moments. Ruby is mesmerized by the huge statues of knights on horses outside the Grand Palais.
- Reading all your emails, even though I get a twinge of sadness each time I hear about the kids at school, still feels like Sam should be there.
-My new mantra as I do the commute is ‘Embrace change, embrace change, embrace change’.
- Naked man and wine, of course.

Sam says today that he likes Paris now and will be sad to leave to go to England, how much can change in a week! Somehow I think this is just the beginning of our rollercoaster ride.

Naked Man

Our first weekend in Paris was memorable. As I opened the shutters in my bedroom one sunny Sunday morning, my bleary gaze locked on a toned lower torso teasingly positioned behind a sink in the flat across the way. I had to put on my glasses for further inspection. Yes, it was male, only slightly hairy, very toned, and it was doing the dishes!! I was unabashedly staring as he was casually scrubbing, seemingly oblivious to me. Whether he was just refreshingly uninhibited or a bit of a show off, it did not matter, I couldn’t tear myself away. I won’t deny I was waiting for the full frontal view which he soon graciously supplied, followed by a brazen bottom view as he turned around to put his dishes away.

My personal Parisian Diet Coke moment…oh la la, I could get used to this.

School Commute

The commute to school is officially horrific. For those of you thinking I'm just swanning about in cafes and museums, THINK AGAIN! I spend nearly 3 hours a day on a bus, metro, sprinting alone or with a pram, getting repeatedly hit with bus/metro doors, or getting the pram caught in them. Today the pram was so stuck halfway up the bus entrance way the doors shut on us and nearly drove off with Ruby hanging out the door in her pram.........kid friendly, hah!


School mothers are equally scary. We've got a varied mixture of nannies/au pairs and very posh American and French mummies arriving in their luxury cars and high heels as I arrive all sweaty and dishevelled from my daily sprint. So far I'm aware of a Belgian rock star and a French football celebrity with children here, not to mention various vineyard owners. There's also a former covergirl model, a Naomi Campbell/Grace Jones lookalike who calls her daughter 'Funky Monkey', not sure if I'm going to bond. All the local French moms seem to end up at the local Tabac after school drop off for coffee and a fag. Maybe when I master my french I'll hang out with them.


Finally get to Le Bon Marche and it is frighteningly posh. So many well dressed, perfumed up staff about adjusting Louis Vitton handbags, trying to look busy but positively bored. I ask a lady in the lingerie department where the café is, she gives me ‘the look’ and says something ‘gauche’. As I walk away I’m sure she’s thinking ‘fat American tourist needs more food….hmph’.


The square near our school metro stop is full of drunks and handicapped junkies with various body parts missing, luckily Sam hasn't noticed yet to say...'Look at that funny man mommy...' Another gritty reality of city living which I'm still getting used to.


Our particular street is comprised of antique furniture shops, dry cleaners and a pizza place. Around the corner is buzzing, nice shops and more of a Parisian family atmosphere in our residential arrondissement.



Saving grace – our shipping boxes arrive today so the kids finally have toys, only thing is my heart is saying, ‘take the boxes back to England, and take me with you!!!’.

And wine, thank god for wine.

Premier Jour D'Ecole

We all do the ten minute walk and take the metro to school. It is quite busy and getting pram up/down stairs is sweaty work, but we make it on time.

I still haven't quite accepted that we've traded our lovely, neighborhood school for a few rooms inside a large building complex, mainly housing businesses and apartments. This is city living I remind myself.

Sam is quite shy when we arrive, but makes his first friend quickly, thank goodness. Alexi is bilingual and they both have tattoos which gets them talking. I then drop Ruby off at the beautiful American Church on Quai D'Orsay where her nursery room is situated on the second floor overlooking the Seine. She walks in confidently and says goodbye without a fuss.

My first taste of freedom is a coffee on the Champs Elysee followed by the Disney shop, however this is preceded and followed by major screw ups with map reading where I end up sprinting half a mile to pick up Ruby who is literally just over Pont D'Alma. The rest of the week is filled with taking metros the wrong way or getting off at the wrong stop, walking for blocks in the wrong direction.

Sam and Ruby both happy after school so we celebrate with a milkshake on Rue St. Dominique. Not as fun as the boat on the Lock Inn but semi-child friendly. Then we attempt to go to the park by the Eiffel Tower, get lost some more, finally get there, make a friend from New York who looks as bewildered as I do (she just moved here last week).

Sam tells me his play area at school is just rocks and trees and he likes his old school a little bit better. My heart aches a bit.

Take the wrong bus and end up miles from home, have to jump on the metro cause the kids just won’t make it otherwise. Get home and all collapse with tiredness, huge meltdown from me for messing up so many times, pounding the pavements of Paris and dragging my children along through it.

o Saving grace – Dog has been found and is flying unaccompanied to Paris to join his owner, THANK GOD! Spot the very tip of the Eiffel Tower all lit up from our balcony as I’m sipping my 3rd glass of wine – beautiful.

It will get easier eventually, but at the moment absolutely every single thing is an effort. I won’t have to worry about keeping fit with all this walking, and the Parisians aren’t as rude as you think.

Nous Arrivons!

After many tearful goodbyes we have one more which proves to be the hardest of the lot – Dog. Sam forgot him at the airport and is inconsolable.

The flat is lovely and contains a few precious things which I’m terrified of wrecking; 17th century real gold mirror and very expensive wooden side table. We meet our gay landlord Tristan who ‘likes zem very much’, in other words, ‘don’t let you’re little weapons of mass destruction near them’.

We attempt our practice run to school on the bus. Somehow we have an invalid bus ticket and the bus police randomly check and want to fine us 70 euros! We talk them down to 35 and have learnt a grave lesson.
Sam is whinging incessantly about his dog and walking, results in three huge meltdowns on our travels, we’re both at breaking point with stress and tiredness. Everything is so spread out and far apart we give in and get a taxi home as Tom needs to go back to work.
Haven’t had a chance to get food yet, kids are munching on breadsticks and water for tea, I’m convinced they won’t starve. Decide to brave the grocery store with the kids and they are amazingly helpful, they know mommy's hanging by a thread and I let them choose their own cereal. Superwoman succeeds! Tom comes home to kids happy, eating tea and to a glass of wine.
o Saving grace – Dvd player works, vin is cheap, sun is shining.