My former self

Even a year ago I was a completely different woman.
I was a girl who read, but maybe only right before bed. I drank atleast like 2-3 cokes a day. I couldn't pass a fast food restaurant I didn't like.
I loved parties. I had to throw em, go to em, host em, organize em, have em for no reason. I love to entertain.
I loved to sew. every day, all day, it took my stress, it made me creative, it was a way to teach my girls, and encourage others.
I loved a good craft. Tell me there was a craft show and my juices started flowing. I couldn't help it. I promenaded down the isles of joann's, ac moore, hancocks fabric, Michaels... the thought of it makes me smell nastalgia.
If you knew me longer than a day you probably heard me ask, "is there anything I can do for you?" It was like a catch phrase, I couldn't help but ask and then of course do my darndest to follow through.
I loved kids. Of all ages. I wanted to teach them, listen to them, soak them in , laugh with them.

A lot of things have changed. I still love a good coke, and france produces the tastiest. But I read a lot. I have gone through more books in one year than ... well, a really long time. I rarely have time for fast food, but I CAN get food fast, if I plan well.
But when you live overseas and everyone is on a budget, parties can be hard. I try to be a good hostess and make snacks for people "just because" but it almost insults them. I mean to them , who has time for that? am I showing off? And when I threw a birthday party, it was cheap. I mean a couple bags of candy and popcorn and some glow sticks... but to them I was showing them up. "you lifted the bar too high" they said. Now I'm not saying that it wasn't fun and they didn't have a good time, but I expected people around me to relax... to feel at home. And that wasn't the case.
And I live far away. My apartment is small and people don't like to ... idk, get out?
See school is stressful here. It's a guilt thing. We've been told this lie that we have to be superwoman or we aren't good enough. And when you pull something off... it's a slap in the face to all those who couldn't.
So what used to be a release to me. a stress reliever, a mind distraction, is a burden.
Crafts are expensive and time consuming... and when you study and cook and homework all day, well, I don't know bout you, but I don't like to clean up after a craft before I go to bed. And there's no such thing as inspiration and dare I say, craft stores...
on top of that, i thought I would take MAYBE a year off from sewing , sell my machine and get a new one in a new country, including bells, whistles, and a european plug. But a year later, there's no machine and I won't get one for AT LEAST 6 more months.
have you ever had stagnant creative genes... pretty sure they're atrophying, or atleast crying out in agony. I can hear them... "make a purse, a blanket, I'd even make... barbie clothes, ok maybe not! Maybe just a coozie. Can we sew by hand? is that a possibility?"
And then there's the fact I'm learning to speak french on the job... I don't even know if I can say, is there anything I can do for you... let me think. "Est-il n'importe quoi que je peux faire pour toi?"


I will never remember THAT on the spot...
So what do I have that still makes me... me?
I'm sarcastic. I'm a better listener. I do it before I speak now too. Instead of caring for the masses, I try to think on a one-on-one level. I'm looking internally too, instead of drowning it out with other "things".
Some days I wonder why HE put me here and what good could come from the choices i've made or why are things so drastic... but maybe it's time to put a listening ear to that one too. no, I'm not who I was and the more I think about it, I NEVER will be again. home will never be home again. friends move, relationships change, monkeys might start flying... but I'm still HIS creation. I'm still ME. so what if I cry now (whaaaa) I'll get over it. and then I'll pull my big girl pants on, maybe put on a french scarf because it's time to have new "normals" and be the best ME I can be... til next year.

deps and death

I've written a lot of things on depression and there is so much to understand that I can't even tell you all of them. This week was a bad one for me, and it's hard for Johnny to understand, communicate, and even talk to me during a time like this.
Then I saw that Robbin Williams died. It broke my heart. I have to write about this.
He was an amazing man. He WAS funny, but there was so much more to him.
I once watched a Lifetime movie on his life (about the time of Patch Adams coming out) and of course I was on the edge of my seat.
But the more I watched the video-ography, the more I could see that he was depressed. That was the day I started pr*ying for Robin Williams.
See, I can totally understand. He was funny, but he had absolutely no outlet for sadness or anger or even a normal day. Then add depression into the mix. That is why I think he branched out into what dreams may come and law and order... he wanted to vent his dark thoughts, but people criticized him.
See, supposedly I'm funny too.
When people hear me complain or even talk like I'm having a hard day, people automatically walk away from me. They want me to lift them up. They want me to be funny. Then when you add depression into the mix, I feel like I've REALLY let them down. I should have hid it better, I should have held it in.
his movie Photoshop was a way for him to be sad by only acting sad. It's the same for Chanda Pierce. It's the same for a lot of people. Actually, the funnier a person is , the more I reach out and love on them.
We need to let those who have deps let it out. Don't walk away. Don't pity, Don't frown... just acknowledge and then remind them of awesome things... mourn with those who mourn, but also rejoice with those who rejoice...
The news of Robin Williams broke my heart because I don't believe he ever found Hope or the Truth. But instead of just saying depression is a cruel lie... take action. Be a light to all those around you, stranger and otherwise. Say a kind word. Point out the worlds beauty. Give a reason for thankfulness for themselves. Even a smile.
Make sure Robin Williams doesn't happen again!

Go to bed

8:30: Ella, go to bed. I know it's hard for you to fall asleep, so I'm giving you time to calm down and read... kisses, hugs, goodnights, sleep tights, pr*yer, love you, door cracked.
9:15: ella comes out to pee. Comes in the living room on the other side of the house. "sorry, I just had to pee. I'll say goodnight now."... kisses, hugs, goodnights, love you... off to bed
9:35: I see a shadow walk across the house. "who's up?" Ella: it's just me. It's really bright in my bedroom, so I'm going around the house turning lights off. Can I turn the light off in the room you're sitting in "no, I'm in here, if you don't like the brightness, close your door" Ella" it's too hot. ok I'll go to bed now.
9:40:Ella: I forgot to kiss you goodnight when I went to my room a minute ago, I'll do it now
"You've already kissed me three times now. I love you, but you have to go to bed. Stop getting up."
Ella: I'm done. I'm off... kisses, hugs, love you, shove to her room.
10:00 Ella: I can't sleep.
I try to ignore, but she stares blankly at me for 5 minutes and wins the staring contest.
"of course you can't sleep. You keep getting up. If you'd just lay there, you'd fall asleep. Why don't you read your book."
Here comes one of 2 answers; Either she finished her book, or it wasn't entertaining enough so she can't read it.
"well, it is 10 pm. Really you should fall asleep or you'll never wake up in the morning."
Ella: ok, well, I love you.... I begrudgingly kiss her AGAIN, and say, please stay in bed.
ALL IS QUIET.
until 11:15: Ella comes into my room: I have to pee. Is it ok if I go?
"well, if you don't go, you'll be up all night thinking about it right?"
Ella: yes
"so why do you have to tell me you have to pee? I mean, you'll go whether I give you permission or not right. Just go... and go to bed!"
Ella is in the bathroom so long I forgot she even woke up.
11:45: Ella: ok night I love you...
 "don't kiss me. just pee. go to bed. stop getting up. you're worse than your 3 year old sister"
Ella: I'm so tired. I love you.

7am: "ella get up."
7:15: "ella get up."
7:30: "you have to get dressed, or you'll miss breakfast and I'll have to start dragging you to school"
8 am: "you have 10 minutes "
8:10 Ella: will you braid my hair? you promised last night. you did Zoe's and Ada's...
"yes, because they woke up"
Ella: well, you talked to me all night, I couldn't go to sleep.

And so the cycle continues the next night....

Yes, I'm uber holy

Josh is in the middle with the beard. He seemed to enjoy the party at our house!

I know, you look at me and see a freak with a super gift... called hospitality. This past week, I took a lesson in stupidity hospitality.
How to take your talents to the next level:
1. Have a common last name. This allows for everyone to call you or ask for you by said common last name and someone will just give up your personal information without blinking twice. For example: the last name Campbell. Someone could just show up at your school and say they're looking for the Campbells and There might be a person at the school who just hands over your phone number. (don't I wish I was still a Mixer now?)
2. Have an unsuspecting spouse. Yes, someone who takes EVERYONE at their word. For example: there might be a husband who believes every time he logs on to the computer that he has won the lotterie or that a poor defenseless African man needs money wired to him. Now, this husband might get a phone call from someone claiming to know him and ask for room and board at your house. and without a second thought, he might say yes (to his defense, he saw my face and said, "let me talk to my wife and I'll call you back")
3. Play 6 degrees with your spouse. For example: If your wife asks who this guy knows at your school, you should just say something like "I remember talking to person A who knew person B and said they might visit sometime this year and need to bounce medical ideas off of me" I don't know who this could be, but it might happen, you never know.
4. Agree to disagree, until you get to the hard part, asking questions. I mean, For example, you might argue back and forth at the validity of a hypothetical situation (person A and B) and insist that the husband call back the man and find out who he REALLY knows and who gave your # to him. This is  hard and pride hurting, but it's humility (another awesome gift)
5. When you find out that this person knows absolutely no one that you do, that you had a common last name, but STILL asks for a place to stay for 3 days, don't question it. For real, it's a hurting man who needs shelter. Your kids safety is in His hands , right? plus, it's a small apartment, you'll hear if anything happens.
6. Pick him up immediately. Don't waste time with cleaning or thinking, that'll just make you doubt your hospitable nature. Bring him in.
7. Throw a party that night. Invite him. Have him meet all your other friends and find out that he is 6 degrees to someone in the room.
8. The next morning, be sure to leave him in the house alone all day. Give him a key. Don't question anything valuable, or keep him from eating your peanut butter cups. you've already shuffled all your kids so he can have a room alone, why not the crown jewels too.
9. Have another party, in town, which you pay for him to travel with you because you don't want him to feel too cooped up in your home.. Give him breathing space. Buy him a train ticket.
10. Breathe. You've achieved a true level of hospitality. Everyone survived and he even left you a nice note. You trully are blessed.

Actually, it probably wasn't that bad. Josh (I don't know his last name) ended up being a pretty stand up guy who actually was a doctor on his way to Africa but needed visas. We found people to vouch for him eentually and my girls weren't afraid of him. Now, how do I teach them about stranger danger... next blog.

If the sweedish chef were French

That would be me. I have to be the messiest cook in the world. Every time I cook noodles, they are all over the kitchen. I can't break an egg without it drooling all over the counter... and flour. Let's not talk about flour.
So I've really been trying to keep up our tradition of making pancakes every saturday once we got here. I went online and searched for the french names of the ingredients (no, my girls do not like crepes). I have gone to 3 stores and STILL cannot find all the ingredients.
Our school was offering a french cooking course every friday (mainly to know  the words found in french recipes), so I jumped on it. HOW FUN. I love to cook, and I get to make french pastries. Win-win.
I showed up today and we labeled ingredients. Then we read (in french) the directions. Then she split us up into groups of 3or 4 to make our first dish: profiteroles (creme puffs). Of course , all the beginners were in a group together, but we actually made the best batch thanks to Sonia, our portugeuse grandma. They were great! I am going to love cooking class...
So I took the oportunity to ask my teacher where I could find baking powder. She couldn't understand me. I thought maybe I was pronouncing the word incorrectly, so I repeated it and then asked other students to help me. She really had NEVER heard of baking powder. She tried to tell me to get yeast. I kept telling her no, but when she finally walked away, another girl told me what the problem was. THERE IS NO SUCH THING HERE. and baking soda is only for cleaning. She said that's why french people love cookies so much from america is because they don't have anything like that they can make.
Then the girl disappeared and returned with a new can of baking powder that someone had mailed her and told me I could have it... sniff sniff... I'm gonna love it here (and perhaps teach a few things myself)

Bravest girls in the world

I can't tell you how proud of my girls I am. I never would be able to do what they are doing right now. We went on saturday to visit the school Ella, Zoe, and Ada would be attending. The liason met us out front and gave the tour and tested the girls to find out what grade they would be placed in. Ada cried, Zoe did well, and Ella gave the America answer of "English is the most widely used language" to a READING comprehension test (the answer was Chinese due to the amount of people who live there).
Ada was placed at the school even though she was way behind on math, and the youngest student to learn french there. Zoe was placed in 2nd grade even though she's way behind on math. And Ella is in the highest grade, and is well on her way to the college (middle school).
Day one came. I really didn't know what to think as we were walking there (in the rain no doubt). We were supposed to drop them off at the gate and run for our school so we could drop off Nyla and get to class without being late. How can I drop my girls off at the gate of a school they've never been to. I can't walk them to class, and they can't even ask where to go.
When we showed up, everyone was standing outside, staring at us. The gates opened.
There my sweet girls were. They wrapped their arms around each other, and walked together into the school, arm in arm.
I cried. How could I not? I've never seen such bravery.
We came back at lunchtime , though.
2 hours of party in the middle of the day, and no school on wednesday.
All in all, it is going well. Ada cried a little, but the only other american girl there waved at her, and her day was made right as rain.
Today we dropped them off, and girls were actually standing at the gate calling Ella and Zoe's name.
"It's boring." they say, but then again, 8 hours of no one being able to talk to you or you understanding what they say or teach can do that to you.
They do enjoy English class. "They can't say the TH in sixth" "They were writing and crying" "They all ask and write down things for me to read and answer"
I'm so proud of my girls. France is looking up.

My girls on their first day. 50 and rainy, but all smiles

my girls school work... Ella Aced her test. Zoe practices math and Ada practices cursive