39

When my sister Joan turned 30, I was 12. At the time I remember thinking she might as well be dead at 30. Well, 39 felt pretty "alive" yesterday!
First of all, Thomas GOT UP with me and the baby at 7 a.m. On a Saturday. That was just about enough to shock me into an early grave!Above we are enjoying "boules à la crème" which Thomas had reserved the night before at the bakery. They only make a dozen or so each morning and usually they are gone by the time we get down there. YUMMY. Right to the hips.
Mid-morning we met up for coffee and a quick play date at a well-known patisserie café. The usual crowd.
Marie watches Thomas single-handedly control a pack of 3 year olds. Notice the nail-biting.
Exhibit A:
They cross the tram tracks (no this is not dangerous like crossing train tracks!) and went up to that playground you see up high in the distance. Thomas was like the Pied Piper. Fransiska helped get them to the elevator and then came back to finish her coffee, smart woman. (note to my nephews in Vermont: can you imagine taking an elevator to get to a playground?)
After I found out not only did he survey the three of them up there (Noah had left for a ride on the tram with his parents), but he also managed to take them to pee in the bushes up there. With no kleenex. Impressive.
Back home, at lunchtime, my chamber of Commerce boss stopped by with gifts for the girls and flowers for me. You see Estelle giving him a scalp massage using my bday gift from Fransiska.
A gift package from Thomas - to continue being beautiful, as he said. Or something.
And now for the real deal: cake
100% edible Those ball-thingys are chocolate, as was everything else in and on. Check out the cross-section:
Estelle was so happy to blow out my candle.
The rest of my day consisted of LOTS of great phone calls from all my sisters and mom as the USA started to wake up, also emails and cards in the mail and text messages. Most of my family was all together yesterday anyway for my niece Lillian's graduation party - she was valedictorian of her class and is off to Harvard in the fall on an almost full ride for 4 years so a lot to celebrate! Plus, let's just take another look at that cake, can we? Mammy.
Changing gears:
So don't bother reading the rest of this post unless you are ready for a rant.
Friday evening was an Open House of sorts at Estelle's nursery school where she'll attend in Sept. (emphasis on the "of sorts". -- note to my sister Lisa - remember the discussion group at the clinic? well.....you get my drift....)
Here's photos of what you see when you are in the courtyard where they have "recess". It's like Sesame Street kids. City life. My kid is like a kid on Sesame Street, going to school in a city. Kept waiting for Maria and Luis to walk around the corner with a guitar. Totally freaks me out. Where are the cows? The green jungle gym? The see-saw? The yellow bus? That combined with the fact that I was about to turn 39 made me feel obsolete. However that sentiment was soon replaced with other feelings.... read on if you have nothing better to do.

Having been personally called on the phone by the Principal herself the day before, and told to be there at such-and-such a time, I had high hopes. 15 minutes after the first part was supposed to begin at 4:30 p.m. the doors to the school were still closed and locked. And there were about 200 parents outside. Hmm, methinks, this don't bode well.
Poor Thomas came racing back from work early to be sure to be there on time like a good parent - you know, first impressions with the teacher, etc.
harty har har. Chaos. Hundreds of kids and parents. Of course the Principal didn't bother to mention that it was ALSO the End of the Year festival for the entire school. oh man, anyone ever hear of PLANNING? chaos, disorganization. mob scene. So there's a stage with groups of kids in costumes, no one can hear anything, everyone hot and sweaty under the sun, the PA system didn't work for the first 40 minutes, screeching with feedback.
I was itching to step in and start ordering people around and whip the whole operation into shape. Good god. It was a quadruple disastrous mix: bad and somewhat inappropriate dance recital, outdoor 4th of July-style kid's fair with game stations for a nickel, bake sale (which no one was allowed to buy anything at until AFTER the entire program was over) and shoddy organized move-up day at school. Thought my head was going to blow off.
At my wedding in VT my sister Laura gave me a t-shirt that said on the front "I'm Not Bossy" and on the back "I just Have Better Ideas". Well, I got a few ideas for THAT event. Criminy.
Look at the photo below:
Here's Estelle during the "show/recital-that-is-so-boring-you-can't-see-nor-hear-nor-are-you-allowed-to-eat-or-drink-anything-that-is-in-front-of-you-under-the-blazing-sun-dance-recital "part...she and I went around to the penny-games section where there was an obstacle course set up. Look at the mob of people behind the fence. Someone came to tell me to beat it from the obstacle course but I smiled, nodded, waved my hands frantically and feigned inability to speak French ("WHAT? SORRY????") and that combined with the newborn strapped to my chest "like an African" left them unable to decide what to do with me so they left me alone. Hilarious.
I did get 2 shots of the kids from Estelle's nanny's, Carlos the Italian:
And Milla, of some portugese descent:
I don't know these kids but felt bad for them as they waited 20 minutes in line for their turn, PA system screeching feedback.
After the "show" (which p.s. the word in French is "spectacle" and I was thinking you're damn right it's a spectacle, a spectacle sorely lacking in organizational management) we FINALLY got to get into what will be Estelle's classroom and met I "think" the woman who will be her teacher. This only happenned because I went up to about 15 different people who looked like they worked there and said "Where do you go for the Open House?" No one could answer me until this woman said "follow me". That's all she said. She was smiley and nice, but that's all she said. What she could have said was "I'M THE TEACHER", for pete's sake. Hi, anyone ever heard of nametags? They can pay for health insurance for every last Tom Dick and Harry in the country but they can't spring for some nametags? Good gravy.
Again, mobs of parents in the hall, no one able to say definitively what is happenning when, where they should be, no one can find "the list" to say which kid is in which class. Pathetic.
I sat in the corner nursing and watched it unfurl. Thomas kept turning to me and saying "I know this is driving you crazy" and we just kept grinning at each other. It got to be comical. No presentation, no speech, no welcome, no nada. This bad photo taken while nursing shows Estelle sitting patiently waiting for something to begin or to be introduced or told what to do and that NEVER happenned. Quality of the photo ironically symbolizes quality of the event: blurry, hard to focus, makes your head hurt, want to look away.
A woman asked the 'teacher' the question I wanted to ask "Do we need to get any specific supplies or anything over the summer for when they start?". The answer was "don't worry about that, you'll get a list after school starts."
I've heard about this "list" from other Anglophones in the area. Communism at its finest, everyone must have the same thing. To heck with that. I'm getting my kid cool stuff whilst visiting good old Uncle Sam. However, check this out - the dormitory, where they sleep for their nap every day. Pink blankets for the girls, blue for the boys. Puke.
Having said all this, Estelle found it all fascinating though she hated the big crowd scene. She also managed to slip away from Thomas for 2.3 seconds (literally) and came back with bright blue paint on the end of her nose and cheeks. He actually thought she had been to a face-painting station over by the games........but no. Just busted into something she shouldn't have. Thankfully he whisked her away and cleaned her up before the teacher saw. Talk about first impressions!