Original Halloween Cuteness (by Mallory)

It's mid-October now.
School has been well underway for a month and a half now and we're heading into the two-week long "Toussaint" holiday.

But my kids aren't thinking "all saint's"- they're all about Halloween.

It's definitely NOT a French thing.
In fact, many people here are actively Halloween-hostile.
Which is weird.
I think it comes from the multiple attempts that French shops have made at promoting the foreign holiday in order to push merchandise. The efforts were such blatant attempts at culturally invasive money-grubbing that it turned many people off.
And, frankly, France doesn't need Halloween.

My kids and I always have a big party for our friends because we're American and like to enjoy this fun holiday that I grew up with.

But I'd really rather not see French people doing Halloween parties. They try to make you eat pumpkin soup and they don't know what candy corn is.
It's just sad, really....

We're finally back from our epic camping trip across five states: Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Minnesota and Wisconsin.

Our farthest point east was camping along the shores of Lake Michigan in Wisconsin.

Mallory's favorite spot of the whole trip was the tiny town of Desmet, South Dakota. In fact, she wants to live there one day...

The thunderstorms didn't sweep us away and the mosquitos didn't devour us, though it was a near thing at times.

Valentine took hundreds of photos.. so expect to see some of those soon!

The first order of the day is to wish a very

to my faithful friend and constant blog reader, Babzee.

The next is to show you all what has been keeping me away from my computer lately.

No, I haven't been out enjoying the good weather. There's been none of that to be had around here. There's been nothing but cold rain- perfect weather to be sitting in front of a sewing machine and making tons of stuff!
My first project was to sew two sets of curtains for the living room. JP had picked up some fabric last time he was in Burkina and it had been laying around for the last two months, constantly whimpering " Sew me!" at me every time I passed by the crumpled plastic sack in which it was forced to live out its sad days. Maybe this was all just in my head, but that didn't make it any less disturbing.

As my old machine isn't fixed yet, I've borrowed one from a friend. It's white, plastic and very modern, but it works pretty darn well. I'm enjoying the heck out of the fancy zigzag stitch it has.

(Why no, I don't get out much. Why do you ask?)

When my kitty and I were done with the orange, African-ish curtains, we got right onto another project: an adorable pioneer outfit for Mallory!


The fabric is...old sheets that I got from my MIL! So, price-wise, this was a complete win.
I didn't even pay for a pattern- not that I'd easily find one in France. I would have had to special-order it at the fabric store.
So, I designed the dress and bonnet myself!


When it was done, we decided that it was still a little plain. So, I added a matching pocket on the apron and sewed up a cute pair of bloomers to go under the dress.

Mallory has been learning to embroider and she wanted to decorate a handkerchief to go with her outfit. So, I sewed one up for her and she put her initials and a flower on it. You can click on the pic of the skirt detail to see it a bit better. She's actually quite good and is working on a cute cross-stitch bib right now.

I would have KILLED to own this outfit when I was a young Laura Ingalls Wilder fan. I loved the books and read them many, many times. I watched the tv show, but with less enthusiasm. The only thing it seemed to have in common with the books was the setting and the names of the characters. SO annoying and disappointing!

The impetus for making this? Well, this summer, we'll be camping up near DSmet, South Dakota! We'll get to see the real Little Town on the Prairie and go the the annual pageant up there. This is something I've wanted to do for years. luckily, my three girls are all fans and are completely up for it. the men of the family are going along with it and won't protest too much ...unless I try to dress them up in old sheets, too!

My next project? Making a pioneer outfit for Alexa, of course! And i'm alos in the middle of making her a new Renaissance faire outfit.

Plus, there's tons of repair work to do. Now that the machine is out and running, it seems that everyone has ripped pants and torn shirts for me to fix... And no, you can't mail me yours to fix. I adore you guys, but I have to draw the line somewhere!

The news:
No progress on the house.
JP is back and keeping very, very busy.
The kids are in the middle of a two week school holiday.

The anecdote:
A few weeks before school got out, Mallory's book bag gave up the ghost. It was in such tatters that we just threw it out and she started carrying an old one that had belonged to her big sister. but after a few days, that one broke, too.
I took it to the local shoe repair guy and he said he could have it fixed up in a couple of days.

In the meantime, Mal needed a way to carry her books. And not just any daypack would do. The kids have loads of books each day that are easily 30 lbs or more. The only pack I could find that was big enough was crushed up at the back of the attic crawl space. It was nothing fancy- just the most basic model and the blue nylon was dusty and stained.

In fact, it looked like it hadn't been washed since my last fieldwork back in 1991. I hadn't ever gotten rid of it for sentimental reasons- it was the backpack I'd bought for my first real work as an archaeologist. I carried it in Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks as a young government archaeologist. I took it down to southern Peru as a graduate student . Then it kept me company as I did boring, run-of-the-mill survey work for a private archaeological firm in Illinois.
It even came with me to Europe when I started to work on my (never finished) doctorate.
It's a sad-looking item with a proud history.

I wasn't sure what Mallory would make of it. In fact I fully expected her to turn up her nose.

I explained that it was my old archaeology kit, assured her that she'd only have to carry it for a few days and then told her I'd wash it up good as new.
She grabbed the bag with what looked distinctly like a sparkle of interest in her eyes. She didn't even want it washed. (I guess the stains lent it authenticity?) Her books went in with room to spare and she happily went off to school.

Three days later, I proudly held out the clean, repaired back pack that had belonged to Tya. It's rather pretty- a sort of beige with red scrolls and flowers on it- and I was sure that Mal would be so pleased to get it back and get rid of the ancient, ratty blue pack.

"I like the blue one," she said
"It' so old and stained..." I began doubtfully.
"But it makes my books lighter on my back....and lighter in my head, too. It always makes me think of you!"

So, she's kept the old field pack and the fancy flowered bag is at the back of the closet.
That's my girl!

First of all, thanks SO much for all the supportive comments. It's so good to know there are people out there on my side!!

Secondly: I am SO on top of this Bad Bus situation! Monday afternoon, as soon as Mallory was feeling ok and resting a bit, I contacted the SIVOM. That's the parents' organisation that actually negotiates and signs the contract with the private transportation company. The office was closed, but I got an appointment right away for the next morning when it opened at nine am.

I told the representative the whole story and stated my main concerns:
A. The bus driver should not start the bus until everyone is sitting. That is a basic safety rule (and we all see why now, right?). Thanks to efforts by parents in the past, the bus driver has plenty of power to enforce this. If a child doesn't obey him, he can even take his/her bus pass away and leave mom or dad to drive the miscreant to school. It should NOT be left up to the younger kids (age 11) to try to make the older kids ( up to age 15!) act like decent people and move their bags off the seats.
B. There is apparently no SOP for medical emergencies. As Mallory sat clutching a wad of bloody kleenex to the back of her head, the bus driver drove into town (4km away) and hoped for the best. He had no clue what to do with her. He stopped the bus on the main road at the entrance to town and made all the kids get out, including Mallory. He walked with her to a seamstress' shop and peered through the window. He had a vague idea there was a nurses office somewhere nearby. There wasn't and I don't know what he would have done if she passed out. As it was, after much discussion (Alexa said it took AGES), one of the older kids said that there was a small medical clinic on the north edge of town. He then sent the other kids walking off to the junior high (even Alexa) and told Mallory to get back on the bus alone. She was weepy, starting to feel woozy, and beginning to feel like help might be long in coming- not a good feeling when you are 11 years old, bleeding from the head and alone with some strange guy who seems completely clueless.
He drove her to the clinic, walked her in, told the doctor to take her and left.
And get this: When the SIVOM representative phoned the transport company on Tuesday morning, she was told that the guy hadn't even mentioned the incident to anyone. What a responsible individual, eh? A real prince.

All of the above made me very worried about how such a person would handle a more serious emergency. The mind reels.
Luckily, the SIVOM representative agees and is talking to the SAT (the transport company) about outlining some emergency procedures for the drivers on school runs.

I'm also deep in the insurance stuff. I spent yesterday alternating calls between the SAT and my insurance company. I finally got sick of it and forced them to speak to each other. That seemed to do the trick. I found out this morning from the SAT that our own insurance will pay for Mallory's medical bills, but then will be reimbursed by the insurance of the SAT. The woman there also told me that the driver had just submitted a report of the incident.
I'd love to hear his version of the whole thing...

The original ending of my last post was the line " Well, at least we still have our health".
I looked at what I'd written and promptly deleted it. I was sure that a bit of snark like that (I meant it sincerely, but it just didn't come off that way) would surely earn me a big smack-down from the Powers That Be.

Apparently, the Powers That Be don't just read the final, published post. They read the draft over my shoulder as I write. (You'd think they could find a better use for their time, but there you go. )

I know this is true because the day after I wrote that and erased it two seconds later, the Powers conspired to make me regret my lack of appreciation for the good health of my family. They did it like this: They put Mallory on the school bus on Monday morning and put it into the other kids' heads not to let her have a seat. (Actually, it's a frequent situation. The older kids put their book bags on the seats and don't let the younger ones sit. The victims are too shy/scared to insist and the driver ignores the problem).
Then the Powers made the child standing at the next bus stop temporarily invisible, so that the driver would only see the boy after he'd passed by and then feel forced to hit the breaks with great force. Their clever plan worked and the sudden stop hurled Mallory backwards onto the floor. The back of her head hit the edge of a step and the blood was impressive. I'm told that every girl on the bus was in tears.
I know all this because Alexa was there, of course. I only got all these details much later, though. The first I heard of it all was at about 8:30 am. The phone rang and when I picked it up, the secretary at the junior high was on the line saying "This is the school. Your daughter wants to talk to you."
A weeping Alexa tearfully told me "Mallory is hurt bad, Mommy".
I, of course, imagined the worst.
The absolute worst.

Then, she told me Mallory had hit her head, there was lots of blood and she was at the hospital.
This was still not sounding good.

I asked to talk to the secretary. And adult could help me out, right? Wrong. The woman knew NOTHING. The kids are only the responsibility of the school once they come in the gate, I was told. The school transport is contracted out to a private company.
So, good luck with that.

Luckily for my sanity, my call-waiting went off just then. It was the doctor at the medical clinic in the town where the school is. She reassured me that Mallory was there, relatively fine, just a bit hysterical and in need of a few stitches .

I got there in a flash and found quickly Mallory by marching through the place yelling her name (btw: Works great! They brought me to her right away!) Mal was huddled on a table, weeping piteously, asking if she was going to die soon. The doctors found her melodrama a bit much. I did my best to calm her down and comfort her. (What worked best was a promise to read "Bunnicula" to her when we got back home.)

She ended up with five stitches and walked out of the doctor's office looking like the victim of a severe disaster. Her hair was matted pink with blood and it was smeared all over her face and covered her coat. And don't forget that half her front tooth had been shattered on Saturday.
She was fairly miserable, but I was just feeling relieved.
I knew we'd gotten off lightly.

We just spent three days with no heat in our home and no hot water. The crazy (malfunctioning) gauge had me convinced that we still had at least 500 literes left. But we didn't. And nobody could get me a delivery any time soon. Most places offered to bring some in a week. It was -5F outside and I was not going to last a week with no heat. I ended up making a second call to my usual supplier and shamelessly begging him to find a solution. He promised a few liters for Thursday, so we settled in to wait. The electric space heater had just short circuited , so there was no help there. We mostly huddled around the fireplace and I boiled endless pots of water on the woodstove. Luckily, my girls are all big " Little House on the Prairie" fans and they actually thought it was fun to have their mom wash their hair using a bucket of water.

The builder came on Thurday and started on the new addition to the house, but after a few hours, he covered everything in plastic and said he'd come back when "the weather is good"(which, considering the fact that we are in the French Alps, could be in April). The plastic tarps are all nailed down, effectively sealing up our back door. And now everything is covered by a foot of snow.

Then, Mallory broke a chunk out of her front tooth, whacked in the face by a bar on a ski lift. (Can you say "ouch!"?)

Also, the oven is broken.

Add to that a burned-out computer monitor, and that about sums up the last week for me.

It's been...interesting.

We’re back from Paris!
Luckily, I didn’t end up needing a waffle iron or scuba gear. In fact, I barely had enough clothes. As I packed for the nine day trip, I took the advice everyone gave me very seriously. I mercilessly threw out items until I had only about half of what I thought I needed. Under strict orders, the four kids all did the same. In fact, our hostess in Paris was completely astounded when we showed up at her door with only one tiny backpack each.
« That’s what my kids would pack for a weekend! » she exclaimed.

And it’s a good thing we traveled light. Not that the train trip was an issue. That was easy. In 15 minutes by car we were at the Annemasse train station. There we hopped on to the TGV (‘Really Fast Train‘) and had a soothing five hour ride to the Gare de Lyon.
But once we got to the train station in Paris, we had to get on the Metro. If you’ve ever been on it, you know that there’s often a maze of underground passages and stairways that connect the train lines. And we had to change lines a couple of times. So, it was good not to be too laden-down.

I led the way down into the Metro, briskly trudging along up and down the endless stairs, forgetting that three of the kids had never been on a subway before, ever. Alexa (a metro habituée from her stay there when she was six)) cruised along like a real Parisienne. The older two gawked a bit, but came along gamely.
But Mallory? She stared about with wide eyes at the dingy tunnels, wrinkled her nose at the stale (and sometimes worse) air and startled at the thunderous roar of the trains. The farther we walked, the farther she lagged behind, dragging her feet miserably and generally looking like a dryad torn from her native forest glade and consigned to an eternity in Hades.
I tried to encourage her to keep up, but didn’t have time to coddle.
« Come on! Only one more train to go! Keep up!» I called back to her as I paused to struggle with my map of the Metro and figure out our next move.
She looked at me mutely and sat down right in the middle of the corridor. The Parisian commuters, having seen it all, I suppose, stepped agilely around her.
I rushed back.
« What ARE you doing?! You can’t just SIT there! » I shrieked, my cool long gone. « That floor is filthy!! » And it was. It looked like you could get cholera from just thinking about sitting down on it.
« I can’t go any more » she announced.
« OK! We won’t go on. We’ll LIVE in the Metro tunnels. But we will not SIT in them. PLEASE get UP! »
Good grief. The child survived nine years in one of the poorest countries in all of Africa and in the end she would be done in by typhoid contracted from the floor of the Nation Metro station…

She reluctantly got up and shuffled on to the next and final train.

Sad Mallory on the Metro:

Luckily, our destination was only about a block from our final stop.

We ended up here:

The house on the left is the home of our good and kind friends who graciously hosted the five of us for nine days. They are a couple that have three children, so when we were all home, we were a crowd of 10. He’s a doctor and works all the time and she’s an anthropologist who’s always behind on her writing deadlines, so it was particularly nice of them to invite us for such a long stay.
When we arrived, the children of our hosts were still all at school, P (the father) was at work and V (the mom) had to get on with her writing. So, I decided to take the kids for a walk in a nearby, very famous park called the Buttes Chaumont. I thought it might cheer up Mallory, who was still looking morose. Even getting out of the Metro hadn’t visibly cheered her. And I guess I could see why- the sidewalks above ground so far had featured a lot of dog crap and a distinct smell of vomit.

But a park would be nice, right? Spring flowers and all that.

So, we walked down to the park. And it kind of worked.

Buttes Chaumont is a huge and lovely park created by Napoleon III in 1862. It is not on the usual tourist route at all, though. It’s really just a place where Parisians go to relax on some green grass and enjoy nature. Some ‘enjoy’ it more than others, of course. In my efforts to entertain and distract Mallory, I noticed a wide clearing where a lot of pigeons were gathered. I thought she'd be revived a bit by seeing some animals, even if they were just "rats with wings".

Mallory's days back in Africa started every morning at six am with her rushing out the back door to feed the goats and check if her chicken had laid an egg for her. Then she'd spend most of the rest of the day outside, all year long. And even in France now we have our cats, a degu and a whole forest full of deer, wild boars, hawks and whatnot right outside our back door.

So, I directed us along a path to the left that would take us right past the chubby birds intent on their meal. Just beyond the them, I noticed a couple sitting near the trees, having a picnic. I thought. (In my defense, let me state here that I was wearing my old glasses- my new ones having gotten broken just before we left home) As we got closer, it became apparent that their movements, which I had thought indicated that they were unpacking a picnic in a particularly energetic way, were completely non-picnic related. In fact, the couple, though mostly clothed, had opened certain key bits and were having sex, right in the middle of this very busy park.

Mallory said « What are they….? »

Tya said "Aren't they...?"

Alexa's jaw dropped.
Severin, getting right to the point, announced « Laundry alert! », which is the family code for sexy scenes in movies. When the kids were younger, actors removing their garments for romantic fun purposes would prompt me to say brightly « Guess they’re getting ready to wash their clothes! » and then hit the remote.)

We all laughed (what else can you do?) and positively ran back up the path, right past a man who’d been peacefully taking in the sun just down the hill from the couple, with his back to them. When we'd started giggling, he’d turned around and noticed the free show going on behind him . He sat there staring and the happy couple carried on, completely oblivious to all.

Welcome to Paris.

Somewhat traumatized by our first afternoon in the big city, we headed back to our friends' house.

And that was day one of our Paris adventure… much more adventurous than a person wanted, really.

We have SNOW tonight!!!
Lots of it!
It looks like the Haute Savoie has decided to give us a first year back in France to remember.
It started out as a heavy rain all day long, but as night fell, the temperature dropped and huge, fluffy flakes began to fall. The kids immediately put on their winter gear and trooped outside to play. They threw their first-ever snowballs and made their inaugural snowman, complete with traditional carrot nose.

Mal, in particular, is thrilled to bits, to put it mildly. As she put her wet mittens on the radiator to dry, she turned to me, her big blue eyes shining and said: "This is the best day of my life!! Except for the day I was born. That was really great, too."

I was a bit surprised. She remembers that?

Full of surprises, that child.

Pulling a cart did not figure high on Aslan's list of "Fun Activities for Goats". I doubt it was even in the top 50. But Mallory's love and patience has paid off. Now he pulls the cart all around the neighborhood. He doesn't even have to be bribed with tasty snacks.
Today, he even gave a little neighbor girl a ride all the way around the block. I wanted to get some good pictures, but the battery in the camera ran out before I could. But here are a couple of Aslan and Mal that I managed to get before the camera shut down on us.

We are planning a trip to the USA this summer. The main goal is to see family, but JP and I also want to take the kids camping. Years ago, before the kids were born, he and I did a couple of big camping trips, driving around the western US and stopping to pitch our tent wherever took our fancy. It was amazing. We saw Mount Rushmore, Old Faithful, the Grand Canyon and lots more. We vaguely agreed that one day we would come back and show it all to our kids, if we ever had any. We never dreamed there'd be four of them, but there you go. At least they'll be lots of help pitching the tents.
I have already gotten out the atlases and travel guides, thinking that we could use our preparations as informal US geography lessons. So far, the kids love it. They are so excited, trying to figure out where we can go and what we can see. Well, everyone except Mallory. She was the only one that didn't seem at all excited. In fact, her eyes were full of tears that first day.
"How long are we going camping?" she demanded tremulously.
"Well three or four weeks. It depends. What's wrong?"
She burst into tears. After some coaxing and hugging, the problem came to light. "What about Grammy and Grampy? We won't have time to see them!"
She was very concerned that the delights of touring America was distracting the rest of us from the main event: time with her grandparents.
We all rushed to assure her that we'd spend at least as long with my parents. But she'd just rather skip the whole camping thing. I even hinted that a trip to Disneyland could be in the works. No deal. (Her twin sister would sell both her parents into slavery for a chance at Disneyland!)
I also proposed that we get my Dad to camp with us a bit, but that didn't help. "Bridget couldn't come! She could get lost!" Mallory said indignantly. (Bridget is my parents' Wheaten Terrier.)
We are still working out the details, but Mal has consented to go with us. What finally sold her was Giant Redwoods. We'll definitely be making a stop in northern California!