Twice in Two Years... Enough is Enough!

Yesterday was a jumbled day in more ways than one... I had such focused plans for the day, and a to-do list (in my head anyway -- I never tend to put those things on paper!) to complete, including some more work on the children's story contest, which absolutely MUST be wrapped up in the next week so I can get the winning booklets assembled and ready for the Awards Party on the 31st. I was planning on spending a good part of my day on that, while alt-tabbing back and forth between some regular office work, and catching up on anything else in cyberspace, per my usual...

But I also had a doctor's appointment for my monthly check-up -- 7 months and counting! Although for some reason I appear to have had the due date off by a week -- my doctor has it down as August 5th, and for months now I've been calculating it as July 28th. (After all, who was there when this little bean was conceived -- her or me?!) I waited in the doctor's office for nearly 2 HOURS before I actually saw my OB/GYN. Now, I know she's in great demand and you have to expect these kinds of delays, but two hours seems to be stretching it just a wee bit. I literally fell asleep in the waiting room, if you can believe it. I was reading there for a while, but then started nodding off, surrounded by a dozen other patients waiting their turn. Each time a name was called we'd all look up, surprised that it wasn't yet our turn.

I had expected to be back to the office by 4:00, given that my appointment was at 2:30 and the cabinet médical is only 4 métro stops away. Plus, she usually has me in and out in a flash, just checking to make sure everything is on track and there are no major problems. I had a few issues to address with her, but I've learned now to make it quick... Basically just little typical pregnancy ails (trust me, you don't want to know!), and she gave me the prescriptions for all that I needed. But with the delay, I didn't make it back to the office until nearly 5:30, and all of a sudden I was incredibly behind schedule. And for once I really needed to leave on-time to make it to the SCBWI event I was attending at 7:00 -- all the way on the other side of the Seine, in the Montparnasse neighborhood.

Bridget was warm and wonderful, sharing a bit about her creative process and lots of images of her work -- both in progress and as a finished product. I fell in love with her book, How Do You Make a Baby Smile and knew I had to have it. But when I told Bridget afterwards that I wanted to buy a copy, she told me that she had hoped to give me a copy as a gift for my baby on the way, with (and this is the best part!) her signature and a drawing inside. So she's going to give it to me the next time I see her, probably at the end of the month for the Red Wheelbarrow Contest Awards Party.

Afterwards, I had dinner with a group of SCBWI France members, and headed home exhausted just before midnight -- an exceptionally late night for me these days... But unfortunately, my night was far from over, as terrible news awaited me on my arrival home. Actually, I got a call from my boy when I was in the train, and he had just arrived himself after spending the evening with his father. When he told me what had happened, I was immediately distraught, and completely oblivious to the stares from people around me... He kept saying he was hoping that it was only an attempted break-in, because he couldn't get into the apartment and couldn't yet tell if anything had been taken. But I already knew that he was holding out hope for nothing -- it was clear that it was a burglary. The locks were mangled, just as they had been nearly two years ago in July, barely 6 months or so after we moved into the place. You'd think we would have learned our lesson the first time around... But life gets away from you, and even if the first 6 months after that burglary left us both skittish and suspicious of basically everyone in our neighborhood, a year later we had other things on our minds, namely my boy's heart attack, and then after that my pregnancy...

So many thoughts whirled around in my head as the train dragged its way from one station to the next... What had they taken this time? How bad was the damage? Did they only take insignificant, replaceable things or did they take anything and everything of any sentimental value? I kept trying to tell myself to be rational, to put things in perspective, as obviously the most important thing is that we are safe, healthy and that no one is hurt... physically, anyway. But that still didn't stop me from picturing the worst, and knowing somehow that we wouldn't have gotten off scot free one way or another. Why hadn't we moved sooner? Why hadn't we gotten our butts in gear and made a move HAPPEN? Why had I hemmed and hawed for so long on the few apartments I HAD visited and not made a decision? Why am I so gosh-darn indecisive, PERIOD? My one small consolation, I told myself, was that I had for some random reason grabbed my digital camera that morning, at the last minute as I was running out the door, thinking I might take a few pictures at the SCBWI event. I also had my iPod in my bag, as well as my most important documents... I feared the possible dissappearance of my U.S. Passport, which I don't keep on me at all times, but miraculously they didn't take that, possibly not knowing what value it may have. Or what do I know? Maybe these days people don't steal passports anymore...

In the end, the burglary definitely could have been worse -- things can always be worse, right? But more than anything else, I've come through these experiences feeling like it's definitely a violation of our intimacy, our security... Everything you can imagine it to be, only worse when it actually happens... The drawers turned upside down, clothes -- lingerie, for God's sake -- everywhere, on the floor, scattered on every surface. And on my dresser, where I keep the few pieces of jewelry I own in small pouches in a wooden box, things were topsy-turvy, and I had to go through one by one and see what they had taken. The bedroom is apparently where they spent most of their time, going meticulously through my things to find that rare piece that might actually be worth something. Because trust me, most of my jewelry is sentimentally precious to me, but nothing more than costume jewelry, or sterling silver, my one small luxury. But I do have -- or check that, I did have some gold rings from my childhood, namely one tiny gold signet ring my grandmother gave me when I was 10 years old, with my initials on it, and another ring that once belonged to my grandmother. As well as some earrings that I don't actually wear that often but still held a certain value.

What can you do in these cases? You try to make an inventory of what's missing in order to give it to the police in your statement, and then of course to the insurance company for any possible reimbursement. But unfortunately, this time around, all that was taken was jewelry I've had for years but held onto, once again, more for sentimental value than anything else (also more than likely because we really don't own much of value -- how reassuring is that, huh?!). So I don't have any receipts, nor any recent photos of my wearing the pieces. So no chance of recouping anything for them from the insurance company.

In any case, more than anything else I was just numb from the whole mess, and my stomach was tied in knots. I thought I might get sick last night before finally crawling into bed, but I did finally manage to fall asleep somewhere around 3:00. This morning I woke up feeling not much better, and I knew it was pointless for me to try to go in to work. I rarely call in sick anyway, but this was just one of those times when it had to be done... For my own mental sanity more than anything else. And I needed to get some extra rest as well -- I'm glad I laid down for a while, because a few hours later I started feeling a bit better. My boy took care of the major formalities, including the official statement at the police station as well as the phone calls to our insurance provider and to the locksmith, who spent several hours this afternoon installing a new, heftier system on our door, although it's far from a guaranteed form of protection from any future break-ins. We can only pray that we will be out of here before that happens again...

Because more than anything else, there's that one French expression that just keeps trotting through my mind, and no matter how hard I try I can't seem to get rid of it: "Jamais deux sans trois..." Say it ain't so.

On the Road Again

Tuesday evening I was chatting away with Jenn on the phone when she mentioned that she would be making a little road trip to visit dear Doc of 10, rue de la Charme on May 1st, France's own Labor Day. She wondered if I would be up for joining her on the road for a little adventure and lots of laughter... The clincher to the deal, of course, was that my boyfriend would have the opportunity to knock himself out playing tennis with her husband, while I could goof away the day guilt-free with my pal Jenn. So everyone would come out happy!

And what a day -- full of more silliness and tummy-clutching laughter than I ever could have imagined -- and I'm tellin' ya, I think the baby got a little exercise in there as a result! Armed with what we thought would be a fistful of fun music to keep us company (which fell short as for some reason the car's CD player was on the fritz... Mr. C?!), as well as lots of bottled water, we hit the road fairly bright and early, chattering away for the first half of the trip. I thought the car would put me to sleep, as it tends to do more and more these days, but for some reason I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed yesterday morning, in spite of the lack of caffeine beforehand. My mood really varies from one day to the next!

After locating Doc, the three of us piled into the local brasserie/restaurant, pretty much the only place open on that hallowed workers' day off, and wound up spending the next three hours laughing until tears rolled down our cheeks. I seriously thought the baby might wonder what the heck was going on, because just the day before I had been falling asleep with exhaustion after returning home from work, and here I was guffawing while downing enormous garlic-infused shrimp and glass after glass of -- yes, that's right, water! [What did you think? That I was downing WINE while pregnant? I'm not THAT French, my friends...]

One of the highlights of the afternoon came in the form of the following exchange, which I have faithfully reproduced for your entertainment. Now, just imagine the scene: seated around an ordinary café table are us three gals from North America, drawing all kinds of stares from the local village Frenchies because of our raucous laughter and more than likely the ENGLISH we were speaking... We've just finished our main dishes and, while trying to disguise the hilarity our burping older neighbor is causing us (seriously, you'd think he was having a competition back there, all by his lonesome!), are contemplating the dessert menu. These days dessert pretty much consists of one word for me: C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E, so I was leaning towards a chocolat liegeois, as ice cream was a definite requirement as well. When Doc said she was going to order another particular ice cream speciality of the house, I took a closer look at the menu and realized I might be missing out...

Doc: Yeah, I'm gonna go with the *****.

Me: The *****? Hmm, what's in that? [Looking down I see that not only is there chocolate in that concoction, but coconut as well...] Oooo, I'm going to have to have one of those too!

Jenn: That'll make it three.

Me: Trois *****!! Wait -- who's going to order that?!

[We fall all over ourselves once again as we realize the awkwardness of the order and how pathetically hilarious it sounds... Trust me, at this point it didn't take much to send us into fits of laughter -- we're seriously lucky they didn't kick us out for rowdiness!]

Doc: Seriously, you do the honors!

Me: No way! I couldn't even get that out if I tried!

Jenn: [between gasps] Come on, you know you want to!

Just then, the waitress came over to take our dessert order.

Waitress: Et qu'est-ce qui vous ferait plaisir, mesdames ?

[Ah, the choice of phrasing -- of course! We all looked at each other, completely incapable of holding back the laughter -- I swallowed hard and knew I couldn't get it out without making a complete fool out of myself...]

[....]

(The waitress continued to stare down at us patiently yet uncomprehendingly.)

Doc: Trois africaines, s'il vous plaît. [Through gritted teeth -- and then turning to me.] Wimp!!

[Cue laughter once again...]

We gobbled those babies up in mere seconds, and even now I'm regretting not getting a photo of those bowls of perfection...

* Disclaimer: No offense was intended by this exchange! I know it's not exactly PC, but you have to admit it would be funny for ANYONE to have to make such an order in a restaurant!*

My Favorite Children's (Picture) Books

Time is flying by, and I have to sheepishly admit that I've been very slack about preparing for the actual arrival of our baby -- in less than three months' time (and that's if he/she decides to arrive on time!). Granted, I've picked up quite a few adorable little onesies and various outfits since this past January, most of them during the sales (and more than I expected, when I take a step back and do a quick inventory -- YIKES, how did that happen?! They say you always have TOO much for the first three months...), and I bought a few used items thanks to a friend who hooked me up with the MESSAGE group in Paris. But otherwise, equipment-wise I'm not exactly what you would call prepared. And my boyfriend and I have pretty much decided that we don't necessarily need to prepare a whole room at this point; a little corner will suffice, until we figure out where we're going to settle down for the long term. Plus, his sisters will be passing on quite a few things to us, so it's really hard to tell how much we will really need once they've given us a hand -- something I'm incredibly grateful for, trust me! I may break down and purchase this children's dresser, though, basically because I LOVE the sweet green color, and I just think it will be useful for years to come, more so than a table à linger or actual "baby" furniture so to speak.

But if there is one domain in which I feel sufficiently prepared (as if it were that big of a priority, I know!) it's the book arena... One of the first things I bought for my baby-on-the-way was a book, several actually, while back in the U.S. for New Year's. Some of you may already know that I worked for a few years in the children's book department of a bookshop, handling everything from meeting with the sales reps (and getting so excited about the books that I practically sold them for them!), selling my favorite books to grateful customers, choosing and ordering the books to stocking the shelves and decorating the windows. Some days I really miss that job, but I definitely don't miss the stress it entailed (believe it or not!) nor the negative level of communication between the management and employees -- to say the least. But I digress...

In any case, in my time spent there I was brought back to my childhood again, in so many ways, and I was brought back to those years that I was so passionate about books in general. (As a little girl, I was the "nerd" who loved walking up a sunny summer street to the local library, where I would spend hours in the air conditioning poring over books until I had to go home again for dinner...) And if there's one thing I can say for certain, I am eternally grateful to that time in my life for reconnecting me to a part of my nature and my personality that I never should have left to fall by the wayside. (I'm also pretty happy to have picked up a wonderful man along the way as well, but that's another whole story!)

During my fairly short stint as a bookseller (and buyer), I managed to collect a few of my favorite children's books to hole away for safekeeping until my own little ones arrived -- some people would be surprised to see how many kiddie books I had on my shelves, without the children around to enjoy them! But these books have always been a pleasure for me as well, so I impatiently await the moment when I will finally be able to share these stories with my own first child.

Now, we're not talking about a library full of books, trust me, but merely a few shelves full of picture books and board books, with a couple educational books squeezed in there and one fabulous collection of children's stories that I know will forever remain a classic. I managed to track down several of my own books from when I was a little girl while I was home in January, including our well-loved, tattered copy of The Cat in the Hat, as well as a copy of Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends (and boy, does that collection of poetry bring back memories...).

This is a post that I started writing, in fact, months ago, before I even knew I was pregnant. I wanted to share a bit about my favorite children's books, just because it's a world I so love, but now that the Baby Bloomer is soon to arrive, I have all the more motivation to get these titles out there! Please feel free to share a few of your favorites with me as well, in the comments. I'm always happy to hear about little-known titles, or ones that I've simply forgotten about over time! (And how I love rediscovering books from my childhood!)

Of course this list isn't exhaustive by any means, and it only includes the titles for children up to about the age of 5 or 6 I would say, but I remember savoring the time my mother would read to my little brother, even when I was already 8 years old and he was still very little. I've just always loved reading from picture books, especially when the story strikes the perfect balance with beautiful images. But I have favorites from other times in my childhood as well, including Charlotte's Web and even later still, Cynthia Voigt's Homecoming.

So, without further ado, voilà my most recent (and constantly changing!) list of faves:

1. The Giving Tree - Shel Silverstein - The all-time classic, the only book that gives me chills every time I read it. I'm so lucky to have gotten my hands on a clothbound copy of this treasure while I was working in the bookshop; I will hold onto it forever.

2. The Gruffalo - Julia Donaldson, illustrations by Axel Scheffler - This is one of those books that just so happened to show up along my path while working in the bookshop, and between the sharp, colorful illustrations and the craftiness of the little mouse who outwits the other animals pursuing him before finally meeting the "Gruffalo" (and YES, he does exist!), I just can't get enough of it, especially since it also has a great rhyming rhythm that gets kids right into the story.

3. Morris's Disappearing Bag - Rosemary Wells - For some strange, inexplicable reason, this is a book that stands out in my childhood, and one of the rare books that I STILL have at home, as a reminder of my littlest years. I'm not quite sure what appealed to me the most, whether it was Wells' adorably warm, colorful illustrations or the story of little Morris who feels so left out when his older brothers and sisters get such cool Christmas presents that they each show off with such flair. I love how in the end he makes his magic "disappearing bag" appear even more unique than anything else, and everyone wants to get in on the fun! Such individuality, and I love when that theme is emphasized in children's books.

4. Knuffle Bunny - Mo Willems - Now HERE'S a recent book that bowled me over as soon as I read it the first time -- everything about it is endearing and appealing, as sappy as that may sound... The combination of black-and-white New York street photos with the quirky colorful drawings on top only enhance Mo Willems' portrayal of baby Trixie, just hitting that age when she's garbling away like crazy but is still pretty much incomprehensible -- until she pronounces her first real word at the end! But not before she loses her beloved stuffed Knuffle Bunny, and drives daddy crazy looking for it... I was sold on Mo after his first Pigeon book, when it won the Caldecott Honor in 2003, and I've become a big fan of his naive drawings and wacky, addictive sense of humor. He also really has a way with kids... Apparently he was inspired by his own baby daughter when he wrote and illustrated Knuffle Bunny, which won the Caldecott Medal in 2004.

5. The Magic Paintbrush - (exists in several versions, as it is based on a Chinese fable, if I'm not mistaken; I have the Julia Donaldson edition as well as a tiny French edition) An enchanting, inspiring story about an incredible paintbrush that brings everything it paints to life. But the main character, Shen, who was given this magical gift, has to protect it from the greedy plans of the emperor, who wants to use it to create more and more riches for himself.

6. The Cat in the Hat - Dr. Seuss - Who doesn't know this eponymous tale by Theodore Geisel, most definitely his most well-loved classic, along with Green Eggs and Ham, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish? I have a mini boxed set at this point, as well as my worn copy from childhood, but I'm sure this is a book we'll read together time and time again... I have a particular affinity for Dr. Seuss as he was such a major part of my childhood, so I had to hold myself back several times from buying some anniversary collected editions a few years ago. I may regret not getting my hands on those, though...

7. When Everybody Wore a Hat - William Steig - I'm sure some of you out there have already heard of a silly, loveable monster by the name of Shrek, right?! Well, he was invented by none other than William Steig, also quite known for Sylvester and the Magic Pebble. But his last book, When Everybody Wore a Hat, was the one that really touched me, with the voyage back in time to another era, when Steig himself was growing up in the city, and the many different people he encountered. Something about his childlike drawings here gets to me every time.

8. Frog and Toad Are Friends - Arnold Lobell (and actually the whole Frod & Toad early reading series) Such whimsical, sweet, funny tales of friendship and exchange, these books make me nostalgic for my childhood every time I read them again today. There is even a certain depth to the stories, something that children wouldn't necessarily grasp of course (at least not immediately), but I think that is truly what is so magical about the best children's books out there, how perfectly they capture childhood and its complications, while they presage the difficulties, challenges, and painful moments of adulthood and all that it brings at the same time. Frog & Toad just really bring back memories... And oh, how I love Lobell's drawings!

9. Miss Nelson is Missing - Harry Allard, illustrations by James Marshall - I don't know if I first heard this book when I was really little, or if I heard it for the first time when looking over my mother's shoulder as she read to my baby brother, six years my junior. I used to get a kick out of listening to her read to him, even though by then I was reading plenty of my own books. But there's just something about storytelling time... And Miss Nelson is one of those irresistible tales that gets you smiling from the start. Naughty schoolkids, a sweet teacher, a nasty witch, and a mystery: all the ingredients for the best kind of story!

10. Harry the Dirty Dog - Gene Zion - The memories of this book came rushing back to me when I found a special hardbound anniversary edition of it in a bookshop this past January, just when I was wandering around looking for the best board books of the bunch... Actually, this edition also includes No Roses for Harry, and Harry by the Sea. But the first tale is of course the most memorable one, in which Harry runs away and has a good time getting dirty all day long, but when his family doesn't recognize him he has to find a way to convince them that he's still the same dog!

11. Goodnight Gorilla - Peggy Rathmann - When looking for those baby board books, I fell upon an edition of this adorable "word-free" picture book, full of images that are so perfect that they tell the story on their own. When a friendly zookeeper's animals all follow him home one night while he's trying to close up shop, he has to usher them each back to their cages. But one tricky gorilla keeps getting loose again! I love the one double-page illustration of the gorilla's toothy smile shining in the dark of the zookeeper's bedroom.

12. The Snail and the Whale - Julia Donaldson/Axel Scheffler (is it obvious that I'm also a big fan of this writer/illustrator team?!) After discovering The Gruffalo, this educational picture book showed up in my book-buying catalogue one day and it was love at first sight. I'm a sucker for Scheffler's flair for color and setting, and this cautionary environmental tale is the perfect balance of fairy tale and modern fable.

Gosh, I think I'm going to stop here with my dozen, although obviously I could go on forever... I also love The Dot, by Peter H. Reynolds, which should be put between the hands of any budding artist who has lost his/her sense of confidence -- or for that matter any child who thinks he/she can't draw! And Zen Shorts, another Caldecott Honor winner which has breathtaking watercolor illustrations and a refreshing take on philosophy for the youngest crowd.

Ahhh, I'm turning into a monster! Anybody have any favorites they want to add?! Obviously I'm OPEN to new discoveries! (Even though our sagging bookshelves may not be too happy...) [Oh, and by the way, if you're as into children's books as I am, or you just love a great collection of children's stories, this book is a must-have. I love paging through it and re-reading some of my classic favorites... So many are in there!]

All Wrapped Up

Fred's Incredible Care Package, originally uploaded by alwaysace.

Well, a lot has been going on around here, but as usual I haven't been diligent enough about blogging the everyday events of my life. Of course, I'm sure most of it would bore you to tears anyway, but some things are just screaming to be shared. So, inspired by some fellow expat bloggers who opened up their recent Easter care packages (and chocolate booty, I might add -- jealous much?!) I decided to share my brother's fabulous, most perfect care package for the pregnant gal like me who is missing some little silly things from back home in the U.S.

He pretty much thought to include everything -- from the requisite bags (two!!) of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish (let's not talk about the partially hydrogenated oil and such -- we'll just close our eyes on that for the moment!) to the most perfect pregnancy journal I have ever seen -- who can resist The Belly Book?! (Putting aside the fact that I'll have to go back and try to remember the details from the first 5 months!). He even included a little gift for my boy, a huge Western fan, a DVD of 3:10 to Yuma, which ironically has just come out in the movie theaters here. My boy is more of a die-hard old-fashioned Western guy, a big fan of titles I couldn't possibly remember if I even tried, but the first few that come to mind are the ones he dragged me to see in the Latin Quarter a few years back -- namely Red River, with Montgomery Clift and John Wayne, of course, and Last Train from Gun Hill, starring a young Kirk Douglas. I've actually learned to appreciate a few more Westerns thanks to my sweet boy -- but don't try to make me swallow them too often! This is one guy who really likes the Far West and can't resist a Western mainly because "the sky is always blue". Isn't that adorable?!

So my brother's addition for my boy will surely be appreciated, even if it will only be considered a "remake of a great classic" -- after all, there's Russell Crowe! Even I'm willing to watch (and tolerate) a shoot-em-up flick for him. Then there's the "Once" soundtrack, which should be nice for some mellow, relaxing listening. And last but not least, the Burt's Bees Mama Bee Baby Belly Butter -- the name of that stuff made my brother laugh so hard that he couldn't resist jabs like "I guess I won't be able to send you any bread for your baby butter!" I'm totally set for stretch-mark-preventage now (along with my Palmer's cocoa butter and the Weleda oil that my boyfriend's sister gave me); here's just hoping the stuff actually works! Precarious Tomato apparently swears by it... (And that gal will make you laugh yourself silly, so be prepared, and don't say I didn't warn you!)

And I know I haven't talked a whole lot about how the pregnancy has been progressing here on the blog either -- morning sickness, symptoms, etc. -- so I need to share some of that as well. Incredibly enough, this week marks officially 6 months, although it certainly doesn't seem like it -- 24 weeks! It's hard enough for me to believe, trust me, so I won't be surprised if YOU'RE shocked as well... The last two months have just flown by, and admittedly I have been feeling overall much better since the end of February, early March. So much better that I ended up overdoing it last week, burning the candle at both ends as I stayed up late plugging away at my volunteer work for SCBWI France. I made some good progress, and it was work that had to be done after all, but my body wasn't too happy about it -- as it decided to let me know over the weekend, when my digestive system did some backflips...

Needless to say, the toughest parts so far were definitely back in the second and third months, in the first trimester, I would say, when mornings were pretty much dismal and evenings required frequent sugar highs and meals at regular hours -- or ELSE! My trip back and forth to the U.S. went well, but trust me, flying is NOT fun while in the early stages of pregnancy -- I even planned on writing out a blog post on how pregnancy and jetlag simply don't mix, but then it just never happened. One evening on my way home from work last December I literally tumbled out of the doors of the RER and plopped myself flat down on the ground, heavy winter coat and all, without even seeking out a bench on the quai... I just needed some air and some rest -- not to mention some food!

Recent ails have revolved more around heartburn, for the most part, although I'm not nearly as tired as I was in January. I slept away the weekends back then, marathon sleeping sessions that were unpredictable and could string together for a few days at a time. My boyfriend would say that I had slept all afternoon and couldn't possibly sleep through the night -- and yet I DID, pretty much every time. Now I'm in the stage of waking up early -- at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m. -- and wondering why on earth this is happening. Maybe my body is trying to prepare me for the lack of sleep ahead?! Who knows, but this non-morning person is having a hard time swallowing it... My boy will wake up overjoyed at the early hour, while I'll just roll over and beg for a few more minutes mercy.

Needless to say, the pregnancy has, in many ways, brought my boyfriend and I closer together. It's hard to explain why or how, but I'm hoping we'll continue on this path, because I know I'm going to need all the support I can get in the final months of the pregnancy and especially when the Little Bean arrives. We've had to compromise on some things already, including whether we find out the baby's sex, but we've managed to work things out -- in our own, eccentric, unpredictable ways! (And there's a story behind learning the baby's sex as well, but that will have to be for another time...)

It's hard to put into words the affection I feel emanating from my boy in recent times, the gestures he has made to be closer to me, and the warmth he brings me every time it happens... He still hasn't managed to grasp the concept of placing his hand fully around my belly to feel the baby's movements, and instead taps away lightly with the palm of his hand, while I look down, puzzled and amused (clearly thinking that if he knocks the baby might just answer?!). But I think he's just as excited and pleased to be sharing this experience with me as I am with him. It's his unexpected embrace and smile that make me happiest at any time of the day, and I'm so looking forward to sharing the many months ahead with him, with all of their highs and lows.

Fresh Memories

I decided to make financiers again this afternoon, just as I had done two years ago at about this time, for Easter weekend as well. I pulled out the same recipe I had used then, from a past issue of Elle à table, and checked to see what I would need. I knew I still had some ground almond powder leftover from a past recipe, so I really would only need to get some strawberries at the market because I like to make the version with half a fresh strawberry planted in the middle of the almondy batter. [And as an aside, I scored some luscious early-season Gariguettes at the market, 4 barquettes for only 3 €! Still not sure what I'm going to do with the rest of them...] My financiers had been quite successful the first time around, and I had even made them a few times since then, but I think I'll always remember that first time, because it was one of the first pastries I had brought to contribute to a family meal at my in-laws' home in Le Havre... Two years ago this month, and I had also brought a tarte bourdaloue, recipe taken from the same magazine. I think I was feeling ambitious that weekend... Miraculously, both recipes had turned out well, and even though I was suspicious of the pear and almond tart results, it was scarfed up pretty quickly, which is always a good sign...

When I try to think back to that weekend, I don't remember many details, but it was one of the last times we spent with my mother-in-law before she passed away unexpectedly from a sudden and severe stroke. It was an enormous shock for my boyfriend's whole family, and I still recall that period like it was yesterday, stunned into such silence and pain for several weeks, trying to make some kind of sense of her loss. Even today I know it is still fresh and very painful for my boyfriend, and he often tells me of his desire to pick up the phone and share something with his mother -- and suddenly realizing that he can't do that, because she isn't there anymore...

You see, my mother-in-law was someone really, really special... Perhaps the exception to all those stereotypes we all hear about mothers-in-law. She was strong and supportive from the beginning of my relationship with her son, never suspicious and critical, and if anything she encouraged me in my new cooking and baking ventures, telling me to have more confidence, to not worry about every little detail like I tended to do. I would call her up for a small tip when trying a new recipe, and she would laugh and say, why, if I were doing that I would just improvise... She would reassure me and tell me that she was sure it would turn out great. Oftentimes it did, and to this day I think this was the case because of her words; I am so grateful for her support, for the short time that I knew her, for her trusting smile and her respectful warmth and discretion, always giving advice when needed but keeping a certain distance when things got délicat. I never knew anyone quite like her: she had such wonderful taste, chic and yet simple at the same time, warm and yet not afraid to say what she thought, a marvelous combination of her German heritage and her time spent in France for most of her life.

My boyfriend is still very attached to his German roots, in spite of spending his adult life in France, having grown up on French soil. He tries to go back to visit his uncle and cousins in Konstanz, on the border of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, whenever possible, but as you can imagine, it seems to be less and less in recent years... We made a brief trip there two years ago this past winter and had a wonderful time at the Karnival, visiting the region and spending time with his German family. I have vivid memories of the many pretzels and huge glasses of beer, my pathetic lack of skill with the German language, my struggle to breathe after eating so much for so long... (Man, can they put it away in Germany!)

Who would have ever thought that we would lose her so soon? We all have those fleeting thoughts of the things we would do if only we could be with that person again... I know she would have helped me to decorate our apartment, to choose curtains for the windows (Something I STILL haven't done! Maybe partially because she isn't here to share it with me...), to make it through the tough times in my pregnancy. She was a warm presence and shared so much with me in such a short time... I learned to use a Romertopf baking dish because of her, with the one she passed on to me, and took to preparing a pintade aux pommes et lardons on a regular basis, as I knew it was one of my boyfriend's and his father's favorite dishes. I plan on making one again this weekend, as a matter of fact...

Now if only I could find enough confidence to attempt the sacred linzertorte, the German tart that my boy's mother would bake for him every year, without fault, on his birthday and bring to him especially, even taking a train from Le Havre to Paris just to see him and to bring him his favorite dessert. This year his sister e-mailed me the recipe, but when we dashed off to visit his father again I didn't get a chance to give it a try the weekend of his birthday. I still plan on trying my hand at it, but I have to admit that I'm more than a bit intimidated, as I know how much he loved that tart, and how much he associates it with his mother and his memories of her.

I think of her so often when I'm in the kitchen, baking away. And I think of her now, as I head back into the kitchen to pour the financier batter into the baking molds. I know she would be happy for us, for the baby we are expecting and have desired together, and I know she would ease all of my fears about being a good mother.

I miss you, Brigitte.

A Perfect Day

Where did the last 10 days go?! I actually started writing this post on Sunday, when my thoughts were fresh and I was feeling good about the day I had just spent with my boy, but then the week got away from me, I didn't get a chance to develop my ideas, and this post fell by the wayside. All week long I've been wanting to post here, but either work or one of these headaches-from-hell would get in the way and keep me from expressing myself coherently. Wednesday was particularly hard -- I woke up feeling like a mack truck had run over me, and I dragged myself into the kitchen to have breakfast with my boyfriend, who had been awake for over an hour already and was as CHIPPER as a chipmunk. Have I mentioned before that he's more of a morning person?! And my bad influence has led him, on occasion, to stay in bed much longer than he ever did in the past when I first knew him. In any case, the poor thing had to tolerate my grumbling as I tried to get some coffee down my throat and figure out why my head felt like it was going to explode. Was it these supposed allergies? The bizarre weather? The wind, the humidity, the mold? Who knows... But it kept me in a nasty mood most of the day, and I still don't know how I made it through work at the office. And I had colleagues telling me how NICE I looked that day -- what's up with that?! Oh, the irony, I tell ya! Obviously I should have been flattered, yet somehow I was a bit suspicious... But they're convinced that this pregnancy is making me look as healthy as a freshly-bloomed spring flower, so I guess I should take it while I can get it...

[As an aside, my trip home in the RER on Wednesday night was kinda grueling -- I literally tried to coach myself as I walked up Avenue Hoche beforehand, muttering that for once I needed to be assertive and simply say, "S'il vous plaît, je suis enceinte, pourriez-vous me laisser une place ?" And yet once I was confronted with the situation, I stook there stupidly, with my coat hanging open, my admittedly small belly hardly noticeable to most people around me -- especially those who were markedly choosing to ignore me in the first place. I managed to score a seat after one stop down the line, but only because a few people got off the train. What a daily struggle!]

I'm officially in my 2nd trimester, you see -- actually, I'm officially five months along as of this week! -- so where in the heck is that wonderful energetic period I'm supposed to be experiencing?! Why am I STILL so tired all the time? I can only guess that part of the reason is this crappy March weather, and the fact that I'm desperate for warm spring weather to get here, that and the fact that I haven't been exercising much lately... Of course, I've never been the best about fitting in a regular exercise routine en temps normal, but somehow I think it would probably do me a lot of good. I've been putting off ordering a prenatal yoga video from Amazon for weeks, and yet I put it in my shopping basket ages ago... I have a colleague who swims at a local pool regularly, and she was very emphatic about the beneficial elements of swimming, both during pregnancy as well as any other ol' time. I already know how much my boy loves swimming, how much relaxation he gets out of it, but I tend to prefer the ocean to the chlorine of a strangely-lit public pool. Plus I'm just plain stubborn -- and lazy I guess! I should just bite the bullet and give it a try, though, because I need all the possible energy-producing solutions I can get my hands on, and I keep reading all over how good swimming is for us pregnant gals.

So that's one of my plans for tomorrow: to squeeze in an hour or so at a nearby pool with my boyfriend. He tries to go on a regular basis, but he's been a bit tired himself in recent weeks and has had a hard time motivating himself too. I'm going to try to convince him that it will be good for BOTH of us tomorrow... Even if last Sunday we were thrilled to stay home and just lay around and be our lazy selves. You see, last Sunday was the perfect day I'm referring to in my post title -- last Sunday was the day that originally inspired me to write this post...

When my boyfriend mentioned to me on Saturday evening that we might take a day trip on Sunday, I was torn between feeling excited about the potential of getting away for a change of air and the disappointment of once again missing the opportunity to prepare my long-delayed rabbit recipe... But somehow I should have known that the potential vague plans for "getting away" wouldn't probably pan out, either because of our bad habit of getting up late on Sunday mornings or because of the crummy gray weather -- in this case, it was a little bit of both! So we woke up well-rested around 10:00 (yes, I know, a luxury we need to enjoy while we can, given the fact that in less than five months' time those lay-ins will be over... and a distant memory!), had a leisurely breakfast (one of my favorite things to do on a Sunday) and then proceeded to rest and relax all afternoon long. I was relieved that we didn't have to rush anywhere, and I DID finally get to make that rabbit -- the recipe turned out to be ho-hum, though, which was a bit of a disappointment after all that anticipation, so I think I'm going to turn back to one of my tried-and-true recipes this weekend, one I'm sure to pull off with flying colors. I also managed to salvage some apples that were on their way out, slicing and dicing the suspicious parts in order to prepare a late-afternoon crumble. We watched From Here to Eternity on TV -- random chance, and believe it or not I had never seen it in its entirety! -- and then a DVD or two... It was SOOOO nice to just lay back and not think, just really RELAX and enjoy our time together. It was truly one of the nicest days I've spent in a while, and just thinking about it makes me smile. We just enjoyed each other's company, we were both in good moods -- it was just perfection!

I know, that's pretty pathetic -- an uneventful Sunday afternoon, full of nothing but laying around, watching movies and baking apple crumble constitutes the perfect day for me, right?! Yup. That's about it in a nutshell. Heck, I love to go see a show, visit a museum or spend time with friends as much as the next gal, but sometimes a weekend just calls for some real laziness. And last weekend was one of them.

This weekend promises to be about as uneventful, as my boy has to work on Sunday, which will probably guilt me into doing some more housecleaning. If I'm feeling inspired, I may just try to bake Clotilde's chocolate raspberry cake from her book, so I'll keep you posted! We will also be visiting some friends who just had their first baby, wee leetle Zoé (I love that name!), and I plan on taking lotsa photos! My boy seems a bit reticent, and I suspect it's because he's fearing the reality of holding that tiny one in his arms and realizing that if all goes well we'll be experiencing something very similar in a very short time.

Oh, and by the way, I think I felt the baby for the first time on Monday! I still can't quite describe the feeling, but words wouldn't do it justice anyway... It was odd, unexpected, surreal and comforting all at the same time -- the complex signs of so many more emotions to come...

By the way...

Yep, it's me -- I know, I know, I've been MIA once again, and I realize there's no use in my listing off all my excuses... I was pretty much suffering from the longest-extended-and-excrutiatingly-miserably cold-flu-virus thingie in the history of time, and it totally zapped my energy, my motivation and any level of creativity. Add to that the actual WORK I've had to do in my day job for a change, and I wonder how I'm ever able to fit in time for personal e-mails and catching up on all my favorite blogs -- forgive me if I've gotten behind in my commenting as well...

But I did want to squeeze in a much-belated mention of the fact that I passed the one-year mark of blogging sometime last month -- okay, now that's actually more than a month, so shoot me! -- and I can hardly believe that so much time has gone by so quickly. It feels like yesterday that several of my favorite blogging divas twisted my arm and talked me into starting this here blog, and although I still have aspirations of improving it, adding in a more personalized banner one of these days, posting more often and possibly increasing my traffic, I also know that I'll probably never be as "hard-core" about blogging as so many of my favorite bloggers really are -- perhaps this all stems from the fact that I've had a hard time keeping a personal journal or diary all my life, or perhaps it's just my laziness kicking in. Who knows?! In any case, I'm grateful to the wonderful friends I've made in this here blogosphere, and I just wanted to take a moment to thank you for being out there, for supporting me, for stopping by, for commenting -- for just being YOU!

And on that note, I realized that I also hadn't even taken a moment to thank so many of you for your warm, encouraging words regarding my pregnancy and the months ahead. I really appreciate all the nice things you had to say in response to my "Year of Promise" post, and all the lovely things you've said to me since then as well, either by e-mail, via the blog, or in person. As a matter of fact, I was lucky enough to see some of my blogging friends once again this past Friday night at Petite Anglaise's book launch party, and I was so happy to have the chance to catch up with so many of you! I think I may have almost forgotten I was pregnant that night, because the time got away from me and before I knew it it was after midnight, and I was running down to the métro like Cinderella after leaving her glass slipper on the stairs of the palace. Luckily I ran into King Negrito and his lovely friends on the way, and they shared a taxi with me to Châtelet, where I managed to catch the RER and make my way home just in the nick of time! I had a great time, although obviously without the champagne that was flowing so freely (Petite and friends kept my glass filled with some grapefruit juice most of the evening), and made sure to have a taste of as many of Meg's delish canapés as possible. After all, I was STARVING! Go figure.

Anyway, the only photographic evidence of me at the party is, as usual, atrocious -- why is it that I simply never seem to take a good photo?! Cameras are just NOT my friends. In spite of Frog's friendly efforts to make me feel otherwise -- and trust me, your sweet words sure did make me feel much better, Frog! And it should also come as no surprise that I completely forgot to pull out my own digital camera to take some pics for the blog. Oh well! Again, nothing new there. I simply don't have the instinct for these kinds of things, I guess.

All in all the weekend was a whirlwind of busy-ness... Between the party Friday night, my participation in a children's writing workshop on Saturday afternoon, and a trip up to Le Havre and back on Sunday, it was pretty much non-stop. But in a nice way for a change... Here's hoping I'm really starting to feel the "second wind" of my pregnancy and am moving into a good place in my second trimester! Now all I need is some true spring weather here in Paris and a real change of seasons so I can pack away all of that winter blues and put it behind me... (And I don't count those few days of teasing warm weather in February -- I think that's the kind of thing that gets us all sick anyway!)