On Second Thought . . .
Two months later . . . and it’s true - we’re moving. To Orange County. That’s south of LA, for those unfamiliar with California’s ragged geography. It’s not a pretty place. As I mentioned in my previous post, aside from long stretches of dude-laden beaches, Orange County is home to myriad strip malls, shopping centers, chain restaurants, gas-guzzling SUVs, fake boobs, fake blonds, not to mention massive, character-less apartment complexes (in which we are destined to live).
So, as you can imagine, the decision was not an easy one, and is not without mixed feelings. I’m sad and scared about some things (lifestyle changes and ugly strip malls, namely), excited about others (responsive landlords, convenience, no language barrier, closer to family, more things to do with kids, etc). It feels really strange to be leaving our home of 3+ years, where I walk out the door and feel connected to history and beauty, and am charmed every day by what I see even just looking out my window. I find that I’m grieving for this life already. I know that I won’t feel as much a sense of connection in Orange County as I do here - how can one be as connected to a sense of community and place when everyone is isolated in cars, rather than walking around, passing neighbors and businesses owners on the street every day?
But, what I didn’t anticipate in having a kid overseas is how much more I need my “tribe,” as it were. I mean, my dad did it in the US with all his family over in Poland so I figured I could, too. When things are smooth sailing it’s no problem, but if my little mister has the slightest problem or setback, I find I need someone to run to for advice and reassurance. It will be great even to just be in the same time zone for a phone call to my sister or mother-in-law.
Of course, the biggest deciding factor in all this is a huge work opportunity for my mister cooper, which he is super excited about and already engaged by. I’m really happy that he’s feeling motivated again and reinvigorated.
And though I don’t relish the idea of becoming acclimated to (cough, snort) Orange County, of all places, let alone having to re-build community and job contacts - I am excited that Jonas will be able to have a closer connection to his family and to his huge menagerie of cousins in Northern California. I myself grew up with a massive and close-knit family in Poland that I didn’t know until I was fully grown and have always felt that I really missed out. I know mister cooper’s aunts and uncles have been a wonderful presence in his life, and I think providing little mister with the opportunity to develop those same relationships is of the utmost importance.
So, off we go this March (maybe sooner), to re-establish ourselves in the land of ticky tacky boxes and all-you-can-eat buffets. And sadly, I fear, I will no longer love where I live.
Loving Where you Live
Since returning from our trip to California, my husband and I have been seriously discussing a relocation. During our visit, it felt incredible to be surrounded by so many friends and our loving, huge family when ordinarily we are aliens exploring what is still a somewhat unfamiliar territory. We have dear friends here, to be sure, and find the Versaillais to be a generally friendly, child-loving bunch, but nothing beats time spent with the people who’ve known you and loved you since you were just a crunchy, dread-locked, freewheelin’, backless shirt wearin’, wanna-be hippie making trouble in the ‘ville. It’s just, well, it’s home. And it’s right.
The thing is, if we moved back stateside it would most likely be to what us Northern Californians consider to be a generally unappealing region: Orange County, CA. Beautiful beaches abound, but it is also the land of strip malls, freeways, massive apartment complexes, rampant materialism, Republican money and fake boobs. Pretty much the inverse of our current lifestyle. We’ve been thinking long and hard and deep and have been so so conflicted. Today, I decided to take a walk with Little Mister to clear my head, and along the way I found renewed commitment to our beautiful life here, even with all its challenges.
How could you not love living in a place where this is what greets you on an afternoon stroll:
Treats displayed in the window of a nearby chocolaterie
Cathedral around the corner from our flat (Notre Dame de Versailles). Note Little Mister peeking out in the corner.
Beautiful cakes on display at a lovely patisserie/salon de thé. Little Mister is none too thrilled at having stopped, yet again, for a photo.
Antique book seller
Works by this incredible local street artist - he uses tar to haphazardly create poetic forms on cross walks, sidewalks, and curbs. It’s like a little shot of the essentially human in the midst of your daily hustle and bustle. I love them.
Gate to the chateau gardens, at the end of Rue de la Paroisse.
We live just a short walk to the famed chateau and on a sunny day like today, I love a walk in its gardens.
I can’t say I’m not somewhat baffled by the French-style garden (I imagine an army of geometrically-obsessed gnomes carefully tending to their tiny, unnaturally conical trees).
A series of Bernar Venet sculptures that currently punctuate the chateau’s landscape.
And finally, our local supermarket - the Monoprix. We call it Mopo for short, and I sometimes forget that other people don’t call it that, too. It’s sort of like a smaller version of Target but with groceries. So, I bought diapers, a nice pea coat for Little Mister, beers and a frozen gratin dauphinois.
After all this, and a good hour of walking and daydreaming, I realized that really honestly, in the end - I don’t want to leave. This sort of surprised both me and my husband, as I’ve been pining for home and the familiar for months and months. I’d been feeling like this was just a pause from our “real” life and we needed to get back to it - needed to continue to build our careers and buy a house and blah blah blah. But I realized today that I don’t want to give up what we have here. And instead, I’m ready to feast on the experiences offered us, to take it all in and savor it while we can, before we’re truly obligated and truly ready to move back to where we came from.
Why I Love a French Fall
The weather is turning cold here again, already, and the leaves are beginning to change color, crisp up, and fall away. This means that my summer basically amounted to the two short weeks I spent in California - sigh.
Cheering my mood and saving me from starting my own summer-deprivation pity party, I was reminded today that in France autumn heralds the arrival of something truly special: the baby balaclava!
As you can see, Little Mister isn’t nearly as thrilled as I am. Here he is modeling his newly-purchased winter accessories. Now I’m happily anticipating the coming winter and all the snuggly gear I get to force on my sweet Little. Do they sell these in the US?
And Now For Something Completely Different (miscellany) shopping
by marya
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Bianca and Family
While scouring the internet for anything Nathalie L’été (a new favorite artist/designer who has a great line of stuff at Monoprix right now) I stumbled across this amazing boutique:
Specializing in hip and unique wares for kids and family, this shop offers a somewhat random yet nonetheless delightful selection of goods. From party supplies to vintage children’s furniture, this site has me all excited and ready for holiday shopping (not to mention planning for Little Mister’s 1st birthday in January!).
Tadpole Goes to the Gold Country (and so do we!)
In his seventh month we were finally able to take Little Mister California way. Though I’d spent June and July pining away for California’s dry grass, hot hot sun, and days spent lounging in or near bodies of water, late August was the first time the stars aligned and we were able to make the pilgrimage. Our trip was, sadly, short - only two weeks - and incredibly busy since this was the first time Little Mister would meet most of his family.
Little Mister and his Grandma T
We enjoyed not one, but TWO, super huge “coming out” parties for our little guy and though he’s not used to such a crowd he did great. And, of course, we were always nearby if our little needed a dose of familiarity to ease the stress of the new.
my mister and his little mister
It was incredible to see everyone and to be surrounded by so much love. I felt that somehow Jonas’ entry into the world was now complete. That somehow Jonas’ world - or rather our world with Jonas - wasn’t fully whole until he was embraced and admired by his “tribe” as it were. Don’t believe what they say: you really can go home again.
As it turns out, Little Mister is naturally-suited to our Californian lifestyle, and really took to my favorite summer pass-time: lounging by/in the pool. I was proud of my Little and am smugly inclined to think he may take after me in this regard.
He was a little unsure of the pool at first, but after a few moments he really got the hang of this poolside lounging thing: he kicked his feet forward, leaned his body back so he was comfortably reclined, and contentedly looked about. I think he was pining for a baby pina colada, but we didn’t have any of the ingredients on hand.
Every day thereafter we took the Little for a splash - even just a mini one.
Hmmm . . . I think I found something in here
Oh wait, I guess that's just you, dad.
By the end of our trip, Little Mister had perfected the art of poolside lounging.
Of course, no visit home would be complete without a trip to Coloma for coffee and burritos with river rats in that order.
The trip was too short and we weren’t able to introduce Little Mister to many of our traditional foothill rituals: A stroll down Main Street Placerville, used book browsing at the Bookery (my fav book store in the world - really), cinnamon rolls at Sweetie Pie’s, hippie lunch at the Cozmic Cafe, sticky sweet apple things at Apple Hill, and a dip in the American River. Maybe next year!
Little Mister and Papa Ted bid farewell.
And not made by Geppetto
He’s a real boy now! No longer my wormy little newborn, in the past few weeks Jonas has learned to flip himself over, has balanced himself sitting up, and is attempting to crawl (though inevitably pushes himself in the opposite direction of where he wants to go). What really floors me, though, is how much a part of the world he is now. He sees particular objects and understands their use - anticipates what we’ll do with them. I’m excited, impressed, surprised, and a little bit scared. We’re entering a new phase of our mommy/little mister partnership, one that involves helping him feel really comfortable in the big big world. I hope I’m up for the job!
On another note, June 21 was fête de la musique - when it stays light until 10:30 and musicians flood the streets of Paris and Versailles without having to apply for the ordinary permits. In years past (before little mister came along) we would trek about Paris, happening upon whatever musicians (good or miserable) happen to be out. Since little mister’s bedtime is 8pm, we weren’t really up for it this year. But, our apartment is on the main market square in Versailles and we had a front row seat for some awesome (indie/classic rock cover) bands. With the cheesy lighting, drunk teens, and off-key guitars it almost felt like the El Dorado County Fair had arrived in France. This was the view from our living room window:
The Crying American
This was but one of many, many (many) attempts to take little mister’s passport photo. Because this week little mister became - officially - American. I have a nagging fear that this means he’ll one day join the NRA and decorate his pick-up truck with plastic testicles, but for now it simply means that he’ll have a ssn, passport, and the rights of an American Citizen. Eventually, he’ll also have a special French residence card, for those of you who are wondering, but cannot officially become a French citizen until he reaches the age of 16, if we are indeed still living here.
The most exciting aspect of this venture was producing a passport photo to American specifications. Initially, we attempted to take the baby to a local photographer, but he wasn’t sure what to do with a baby (offering us a very french pout-and-shrug as if this explained it all), so we just decided to attempt the thing ourselves.
Required measurements and lighting specifications are so precise that it’s difficult to accomplish this with anyone, let alone a wiggly, moody baby. Then, of course, you’re supposed to get the baby looking directly head-on, both ears visible, no dramatic shadows, eyes staring straight at the camera and mouth closed. Hah! Have I mentioned the plain white background, to boot? Soo, after many hours of research, we threw a white pillow case over little mister’s mini papasan, pointed the floor lamp at his face and had a go. Here are the preliminary results (meet the many faces of little mister at 7.5 weeks old):
My favorite is the last second to last. And then here is a larger version of the final result:
Of course, for whatever reason, I decided to dress him in white that day and changing him would just put him in a foul mood and therefore thwart our efforts - so he consequently looks like one of those floating heads from Spirited Away.
In the end, our efforts paid off and the photo was accepted. After swearing an oath on behalf of our baby, mister officially became a US citizen. In a few weeks’ time our little mister will have his very own US passport and can travel freely to the (g)old country.
As a side note - the two places I’ve now breastfed publicly (with the aid of a hooter hider - thanks Denise!) have been the Louvre and the US Embassy - we don’t do anything half-way here.