It was school holidays recently, and during that time I did actually write a blog post. I just never got the time to post it. It is a pity, writing all those superfluous words; lost and now irrelevant.
I do have some photos during this school holiday period, of the only three activities we did in the entire two weeks. While others seem to schedule the heck out of their holidays if not with a well deserved and enjoyed holiday elsewhere (in this case mostly wonderful skiing adventures, one with a personal chef even!), then with atelier (work shops) on every thing you can imagine from museum’s to kite flying, or with playdates and general visits to top museums and other educational or cultural experiences. My children, the future generation we are all pinning our hopes on, demanded home time, usually in pyjamas with occaisional nude time thrown in, scattering lego and playmobil pieces throughout the house and in extremely hard to reach crannies (those damn ancient floorboards and their ancient sized cracks), building cubbies under the dining table, painting a few obvious masterpieces, eating their way through entire baguettes laden with ham or chocolate (we’re French now, that’s normal and not considered bad nutrition), and generally being unscheduled tearaways. They learnt nothing educational, unless you count memorizing the rather witty one liners of Batman, but actually did make big decisions on their futures: when H grows up he is going to be Ironman, O is going to be Batman and E is going to be a ballerina (she has recently decided she is not going to be Tinkerbell anymore). So we are all lofty and realistic ambitions here, though I did try a little realism and education to tell the twins that superheros usually have working alter egos, and they will still need to make a career choice that earns money regardless of their superhero ambitions. But I divert… yes, that is right we were not doing anything much more than hanging at home playing aimlessly when I finally felt guilty and that I was letting my children down intellectually and experientially (as conversations about whether road runner was faster than speed racer were not really cutting it educationally – though I was surprised by how reality based that scene in Standby Me is when the kids are by the campfire debating the strengths of superheroes) and scheduled three activities in the last three days of the holidays. Not a bad way to end the holidays at all, as then you end thinking, ‘Wow, we really did a lot’, over “Wow, we sure have worked out how to pass days and days doing nothing all together’. I managed to take them to Ferme de Gally enroll them in a bread making atelier (in which they do all the hard work to prepare the bread dough, only to realize they have a disappointing parent who forgets to take it out of her jacket pocket which she leaves beside a radiator over night and turns dough into unuseable mush and so they never get to see the fruits of all their hard labour), took them to Cite des Enfants for a discovery science session (which actually was not as successful as the previous 15 times they have been there, mostly because they have been there 15 times previously and nothing was new, which is a note to book twins into the next age bracket sessions in future, and thus renders this no longer a good holiday activity considering the need therefore for two accompanying parents for three children) and finally a movie Gnomeo and Juliette (and yes the burnt smell wafting through the cinema was my homemade burnt popcorn snuck into my bag to avoid spending a fortune at the food counter, hello mean miser mum! But, like the mushy bread dough, they are still too young to linger too long over these disappointments thank goodness).
So yes, there are a few photos of these quality moments of parenting I engaged in, but they are on my telephone and I have no idea how to get them off the phone and onto my computer, as my computer keeps telling me that my phone is incompatible, though I know the other half has done it before. We await him having a moment to do something as trivial as download some photos for me. Which is a dig at him for being so busy at the moment. I rarely see him, he is a ghost. I have a ghost husband. Proved by last night being in bed hours before him (as usual tapping away at his laptop, which I think if I was more savvy I would refer to as his mac) and when I woke in the middle of the night he was still no where in sight, though I did look to the top of the headboard where he habitually keeps his glasses when sleeping and notice their presence, so just assumed he was in bed, I just wasn’t seeing him. See, ghost husband!
He does read this, and yes I know he is thinking if only you readers knew how in saying that I have just highlighted how hard working AND responsible the man is. However, there is nothing worse than inflated ego (or deflated in my case), so pretty much leave the story there, you all knowing that deep down ghost man was actually being very attentive father at that point while mother was blissfully snoring away unawares.
and talking of superfluous words...
Finally, no, there is still no smiling photo of all three.
