exceptional

So the morning after it snowed between 15cms in Paris, I, along with most people who had to go outside that day, dug in the back of our closets for something to afront the "exceptional" (the ministor of interior's words, not mine) weather conditions.

Luckily I had somehow with me old hiking boots from when I lived in Sapporo, Japan where the first snowfall can be as early as October and not exceptional for the average annual snow accumulation to be 600cms. Indeed, 15cms of snow in Sapporo in February would also be considered exceptional.

As exceptional weather conditions calls from exceptional weather attire, I strapped on my boots, put on my giant black downfeather coat that my husband says makes me look like a homeless person, and finished off by wrapping a giant scarf made of Icelandic wool around my neck.  I was ready. 

It was eerily quite outside except for the "crunch crunch" sound of people who are not used to walking in snow, walking in snow.  Nobody made eye contact since their head were down and although this is not exceptional what was that they were concentrated on their feet and not their smartphones.

That evening I wrapped up my kids as warm as I could tucked them into the double stroller and slowly made it to the bus stop in the hopes that there would be a bus.  There was exceptionally, no bus, so I would have to push them back to the apartment through unpaved sidewalks. 

It exceptionally took me took me 40 minutes instead of the usual 20 minutes to get back.  I could have done it in 30 minutes had my daughter not exceptionally drop Kiki her adorable bottle sucking monkey. Devestated she tried to leave the stroller screaming "Kiki!  We have to go back for Kiki! She'll be cold, Mom, we have to go back! Kiki!!!!!".

Undeterred I plowed the rest of the way home by reassuring my daughter that Kiki was fine and that we'll find her, only later. 

So I lied (sorry Kiki), but it was under exceptional circumstances. 

le bus

So the bus I take to pick up my kids at the day care center is a bus that is paid for by companies to haul their workers from public transport to the office.  The bus starts from the metro at one end and goes to the RER at the other end, between the two is a distance of 2 kilometers with passages through mainly industrial zones.

I try to be on best behavior with the busdrivers since they literally go around in a small circles which makes them kind of grumpy.  Or so I thought when sometimes they would drive right by without picking up passengers.  And then I realized that maybe they don't know they have passengers. 

Why?  Firstly since the bus runs mostly in the mornings and evenings other buses use the bus stop for parking so usually view of the bus stop is blocked by another giant bus.

Secondly the bustop is almost always full of people only these people are not waiting for the bus. They are just a group of older maghreban gentlemen sitting around taking advantage of the free seats and chatting.  Seriously I've taken the bus in the morning and in the evenings it's always the same group. 

The other day I got to the bus stop and to my surprise the older gentlemen were not there.  This was because an homeless guy had moved in. 

So from the busdriver's perspective he is on a route that goes in small circles and sometimes he can't see the bustop because it's being blocked by a giant bus or if he can see the bustop it's either filled with people who don't want to take the bus or if it's empty it's because the people who want to take the bus are hiding counter wind to avoid the bad smell coming from the homeless guy and appear at the last minute frantically waving their arms as if for rescue.

Not the best bus route I admit but maybe not so dull.  

2018

So right after the holidays my daugther came down with the flu.  Delirious with fever she would wake up crying.  Convinced that it was her surrounding that was the source of her discomfort, she first threw off her covers.  Five minutes later she cried that she had no covers so I put them back on.  When this didn't work she tossed and turned with fustration until she fell off the bed.  She cried, wouldn't let me touch her, and then fell asleep on the floor.  Apparently this was an improvement.

I went back to bed and just as I begin to fall asleep I heard the sound of her footsteps fast approaching our bedroom.  She let out a yell at the door and then proceeded to wedge her way in between my husband and I. Apparently it was her bedroom that was the problem.

Edged out and exhausted I went to sleep in her bed.  Just as I was about drift asleep I again heard the sound of my daughter's footsteps approaching as if she was some kind of 30 second delay shadow of mine. I put her back in her bed, tucked her in and went back to bed.

I actually fell asleep this time only to be awakened by her yelling about how a wolf ate all her pasta.  I went to reassure her but to no avail.  The only way to calm her down was the physically show her a plate of pasta as proof that 1.  there was no wolf.  and 2. even if there was a wolf her pasta was safe.

This did calm her down down until she greedily begin eating the pasta until she almost choked.

I took her to the pediatrician the next day and empathesized the delirum and lack of sleep (mine as well).  We left with a prescription for acetaminophen and strong acting cough medicine.

Two weeks later my son caught a nasty stomach bug and rapidly lost liquids from almost every orifice of his body, sometimes three at the same time (vomit, diarreha, tears).  Seeing your baby hungry but unable to nourish himself is a sad and alarming sight.  I went back to the pediatrician and left with a long list of perscriptions and a heartwarm french "courage" as I left.  It means energy, strength, heart.  I would need it.

Just as he was getting better, I caught his stomach bug.

In France throughout the month of January there is a tradition of eating epiphany cake embedded with a charm inside.  It's considered lucky if you get a piece with the charm in it.  You also get to wear a paper crown.   Not sure if it's due to the paper crown or the fact that French aren't optimistic enough to believe in good luck, but for some reason everyone wants to avoid getting the charm.  This means of course when my co workers saw the charm poking out the side of a piece, that piece went to me.

Switch it with the guy next to you whispered the guy on the other side of me.  I tried but the guy never took his eye off his piece probably because he's aware of such trickery.  It didn't matter anyways since turns out that his piece had a charm in it, too.

Sitting side by side with crowns in our heads, I noticed that although we both got King Louis as our charms his had long hair and mine didn't.  Oh mine's the 14th and yours is the 16th he explained.  Then he added, yours lost his head.

...

I hope this is not an indication of how 2018 will be. 

3Ps

So a co-worker of mine recently retired after working at the company for 36 years.  I remember when I first met him eight years ago.  He was one of three Oracle developers that they called the three Ps because their first names all started with the letter P.  They all had similar profiles: older men close to reitirement that had all worked for the company for at least twenty years.  In other words they were untouchable due to strong French labor laws.

This is actually a very important point for those who have to work with them.  Because they're untouchable you had to make do with their eccentricities.  Like for example one refuses to speak English despite the fact that the official language of my company is English.  Another comes in at eleven and then goes to lunch at noon so really if you need to get something done by him you have to wait till the afternoon.  The other one is so temperamental he once hit me on the head with a pen (true story).

It sounds incredible but it's true.  And why wouldn't it be?  One of the 3Ps started out at the company loading paper into delivery trucks at the age of 16.  So after forty plus years with the company he has to learn to speak English so he can work with the new American girl?  He's probably thinking learn French stupid American girl so you can work with me, I've been here since before you were born. 

Ah the 3Ps.  I had a hard time at first but in the end they have somehow endured themselves to me.  They're of a different era, an era where the person counts more than company policy and where being old doesn't mean being marginalized. 

safari lodge

veules les roses

all by myself

So when you're expecting a second baby, the question is what to do with your first when the big day comes.  That's why I asked my parents to come two weeks before the expected delivery date.  I thought it was enough.

It wasn't.

When I started having contractions that Friday evening two and a half weeks before the due date, they weren't that strong but they were steady at five minutes apart.  After three hours of steady contractions I started to think that maybe I should go to the hospital to get checked out.

Our Plan B in case the baby came early was for my in-laws to come in from Normandy.  It would be a two hour drive so we called them just so they wouldn't be suprised should they receive a call from us in the middle of the night.  They decided to come straight away.

Which made the fact that I wasn't in labor a bit of a shame.  Tired from their two hour drive in the middle of the night and for their two hour drive back to Normandy, my in-laws bid us farewell Saturday morning.

That evening I started to have contractions again.  Having already cried wolf the night before I went to bed only it started to get pretty painful.  The scenario of looking like an asshole if I wasn't in labor started to look better than the scenario where I had a baby crowning in bed.

In major deja-vu style, I took a taxi to the hospital only this time they confirmed that I was in labor.  Four centimeters dialated so they admitted me.  By this time it was 3am when my husband called his parents to come so he could be with me at the hospital.

Meanwhile the mid-wife asked me of I wanted an epidural.  With pleasure I said as I sat in the hospital room in pain and alone.  Sure she said, if you could just give me your blood test results.

Flash black to Friday morning when I asked husband to pick them up for me.  When I asked for them later that day he said he hadn't had time to pick them up.  Didn't seem like a big deal at the time to wait till Monday since the baby wasn't due for another two weeks and a half.

Um I don't have them I said.  To which she replied that I couldn't have the epidural without them.

Words can not describe what I was feeling at this moment in pain and alone.  See, with my first baby I toyed with the possibility of childbirth without an epdiural.  I had no such delusions with the second.  I definitely was not prepared for god knows how many hours of pain and did I mention I was alone?

The look on my face must have expressed my current state of mind because the mid-wife went to see if she could put a rush job on the blood work.  Fortunately she could and it would take forty-five minutes.  You couldn't imagine my relief.

Turns out forty-five minutes is a long time when you have contractions every five minutes and you're by yourself.  I was relieved when the anesthesiologist finally came.

After he stuck the giant needle in me he summoned the mid-wife and some other people to come and have a look while going  on and on about something in complicated medical french jargon.  All I could make out of what he was saying was "rare". Freaked out, I moved all parts of my body to make sure I wasn't paralyzed somewhere.

Everything ok I asked.  The mid-wife told reassured me it was.  Turns out it was more difficult than usual to put in the epidural but that it was fine.   Couldn't they have lead with everything is fine and then go on and on about the medical rarity and calling everyone over to look?

Anyways with the pain removed I concentrated on the status of my husband's presence at the hospital.  Husband assured me his parents were on their way.  I casually inquired from the mid-wife what time she thought they baby would come.  She estimated early morning which corresponded to the estimation of when my in-laws would get to Paris.

So the next hours consisted of me comparing the increase of my dialation to the decrease of the distance my in-laws were from Paris and doing complicated math to reassure myself I wouldn't be having this baby alone.

Fortunately husband came around 8am.  Baby came at 11:42am.  A beautiful baby boy.