Alone with les enfants, day 1

I would like to preface this post with a warning that it is being typed on a French laptop, with French keyboard that's driving me nuts. It probably woulnd't be so bad, except that I keep switching between my mac and this laptop and my brain's going a bit haywire.

E didn't start school until the Thursday, so I had 3 whole days alone with both children to look forward to. Not a terrible thing by any standard, although it was certainly a little different to the understanding reached on the telephone months earlier whereby I was only working in the afternoons......

E didn't want to be back in Paris. She was upset to be starting school soon and to no longer have the outside freedom she has in the south, where she goes for all her holidays. (And had just spent 2 months straight.) Little J, meanwhile, was grousy from the latenight flight on Sunday. The first time I tried to put him down for a nap he cried, hard, continuously for at least 30 minutes. When i went in to him he'd bitten his lip, which, with a bit of blood now around his lip, looked a bit scary. Ok, so no morning nap. Come lunchtime when the parents returned (as they always do to cook a big lunch at home.) and he didn't really feel like eating properly he was so tired. Only then, when he went down for his post-lunch sleep was I shown the sleep routine which is, apparently; always followed to a tee.

All the downtime from Little J was, of course, spent playing with E. I had professed to adoring Polly Pockets, so Polly Pockets it was. And my, haven't they changed?! Someone obviously decided a toy without clothes wasn't going to do much for share dividends, so they now look rather a lot like tiny tiny barbies. You thought a Barbie shoe was small, just wait til you try and find one of Polly's.

Jean awoke at around 3 and got grisly rather quickly. I had been destined to stay for dinner (as a regular thing, not just first night thing) but mentally decided that I was waaaaay past being able to wait around until after 8 for that to happen. Having already cried once when Little J was beside himself, I was feeling fragile.

I begged off dinner, but got caught when Mrs asked me if everything was ok. I was right on the brink of tears when she asked, and being nice was just a bit too much. So, like Little J, I cried.

Mrs was concerned for me, but not at all concerned that it wouldn't work out. She told me that I was very courageous to be doing what I was doing, and all would be good tomorrow. Go home, drink some wine, fall asleep, come back tomorrow!

And so, I did.