And Some Days We Just Do The Laundry

Yes, even in the city of lights, you have to separate them from your darks every once in a while.

Lucky for us, Jack's even making laundry more fun in Paris.

J'adore: Kissing In The Street

You know, I started noticing something just after we moved to Paris. People kissing in the street. But the part I loved the most is the people kissing in the street were older. Like, in their sixties or older. And these kisses weren't just a simple little peck on the cheek, or the traditional French greeting of a kiss on each cheek. No, these were passionate kisses. My favorite to date was when the boys and I were waiting in the freezing cold outside the Parc Monceau for some friends, and an older couple walked up to the Metro stop, stopped, and gave each other a beautiful, loving kiss before parting. Of course I had enough respect not to snap a photo at the moment, so I've added Robert Doisneau’s beautiful, iconic photo “The Kiss by the Hôtel de Ville" to make my point. And I love it because I walk on this same corner several times a week.

And this whole thing has got me to thinking. I very, very rarely see kisses like that between older couples in the States. It seems to me that, for some reason, in our culture we are a bit disgusted by public displays of affection from people over a certain age. I remember quite a few years ago there was an ad with a couple making out, and then when the camera went wide you saw that it was an elderly couple and everyone's first reaction was EWWWW!

I wonder why this is. I mean, maybe I'm asking the question just because I'm getting older myself, but does passion end? Do those kisses end? I don't think so, and I'm taking a mental note to remember this lesson from the French. And to my friends who have rolled their eyes at Steve and I and our public displays of affection I say get ready for more PDA's for many more years to come.

Les Escargots

When we first told the boys that we were moving to France, the inevitable topic came up: THEY EAT SNAILS THERE! They couldn't believe it, but I told them that they weren't that bad (I'd had them a couple of times before), and that I was going to be sure that they tried them while we were there. Their reply?

Noooooooooo!

Well, I didn't want to spend a bunch of Euros in a restaurant for something they probably wouldn't eat, but the other day when I was in Picard (which is another genius French invention, by the way), I saw that they sold them for only 4 Euros per dozen, so I picked some up. I told the boys that I had them, and again, the same reply:

Noooooooooo!

But I told them I was going to save them for a special occasion, and that occasion came up last night when we had two of the students, Brooklyn and Skye, over for Sunday dinner to celebrate their birthdays this month. The boys were dreading it, and we found out Brooklyn and Skye hadn't tried escargot either, so it was the perfect time to break them out. When we first brought them out to the table this was the boy's reactions:

But once I had tried one, they were a little more intrigued,
and then Brooklyn and Skye took the plunge.

Getting them out of the shell is half the battle.

And then you have to look at them while they're on your plate.
Not a beautiful sight.

The first bite is the hardest part.
Well, okay, the chewing and the swallowing isn't much easier.

But the best part, by far, is when Max finally decided to give them a try. I'd like to say he came to this decision all on his own, but I have to admit I had to bribe him with 2 Euros to get him to take a taste. Luckily he can be cheaply bought, because this next little clip is truly priceless (I especially love the nervous giggling and when his gag reflex kicks in. But he did it)! :

And what about Jack? Well, I have to say I'm proud that he didn't give into peer (and parental) pressure and stood by his guns. In fact, he couldn't even watch:

But don't worry, I'm not that mean, and made it up to the birthday girls and the boys with a whole mess of French pastries with a whole bunch of candles for dessert.

And mark my words, I'm gonna get Jack to eat a snail before we leave France. I may have to puree it in his morning smoothie, but believe me, it will happen.

At The Cité de la Science et l'industrie

One of my kid's favorite things to do at home is go to the Children's Museum. I love it because they are entertained, can play with whatever they want, learn a little something, and I rarely have to say no to them the whole time we're there.

So, when I found out we were moving to Paris, I did a little research to find out what they had that was similar here. What I found was the Cité des Enfants, at the Cité de la Science et l'industrie. It is so cool that it blows our local Children's Museum at home totally out of the water. Here's a little glimpse into our day:

This gigantic wood ball run was Max's favorite thing at the museum. The boys had to move levers with their hands and feet to make a large wooden ball move from one end of the machine to the other.

These boys love to play with water, and it's always the most fun when someone gets wet.

This was one of my favorite things in the museum, a big, inflatable igloo type tent that was actually a wind tunnel inside.

Who knew playing with air could be so fun?

And I want this jungle gym in my living room to double as a plaything and modern art.

Max and Jack keeping themselves and some beanbag weights balanced.

I'll admit, I totally don't get some things about the French, but what I do get, and absolutely adore is their desire to make everything beautiful. I almost thought I was in a modern design museum instead of a children's museum. This little contraption below is actually made to teach children balance. If you turn all the petal looking things one way, it rocks to the side, but if you spread them all out like so, it stays up. Seriously, this would look amazing in my living room. It's big enough for a child to sit on, and its a good thing because if it had of fit in my handbag I would have been seriously tempted to swipe it.

Word play. The best part? Jack spelled his name all by himself.

Sharing an Orangina in the cafe afterwards
(yes, a children's museum with a cafe. Genius).

After our drink we took a walk through the Parc de la Vilette that surrounds the museum.

The boys checking out La Geode, which is actually a theater where they show IMAX films. I told you those French are cool.

And an old WWII submarine.

Seriously, you can't spit in this town without hitting some amazing art.

A clever sculpture by the bike trail in the Park.

More sculpture. This time chairs that not only look cool, but spin too! Kid paradise!

Two tired boys on the metro ride home.

Je Vais Toujours Au Yoga À Paris

One of the things I knew I was going to miss about home the most is going to yoga three times a week.

Really, without it I would be insane. I'm serious.

So even before we left the states I started doing internet research on yoga studios in Paris and was happy to find Yogā Yogā Paris (that's it in the photo, down an alley), that offered Ashtanga classes right around the corner from our apartment. It was pretty pricey, and I wasn't sure of our schedule, so I held off from going in right away.

And, I'll admit it, I was intimidated.

I have never done yoga in French before and didn't really even know how to ask to join the studio, so for the first few days I stalked it. I walked past it nonchalantly, once I stopped and looked at the rates in the window, sneakily looking in to see what I had to fear. But it looked okay.

But I wasn't convinced.

So, one day, once my neck muscles had seized up enough to get me over myself, I walked over to talk to someone. The guy at the front desk looked nice enough, so I took a deep breath and walked in and gave him my best "Bon Jour." As I tried to ask him about the memberships and classes in French he just smiled, and said, "Don't worry, I'm American."

Whew.

So I went on to sign up and all, but then I had to go to my first class, and the owner told me that they were all in French. So I got there early, was sitting on my mat waiting for people to come in and as others came into the studio I heard the owner saying (in English) "Hi Bob, how are you doing?" "Nancy, how was your vacation to Nice?" "Jessica, I'm so glad you're back for your third class!"

Wait a minute. I thought I was in France.

So, the class started, and it was all in French, but since the class was taught by the American owner, and I can follow French much better when it's spoken by English speakers. It was no problem. The second class I went to was taught all in French, but was a much less involved Ashtanga class that I'm used to, so I could follow along. And the last class I took was taught by a British teacher and was all in English. And most of the people in the classes are English speakers. Seriously, I think there have only been one or two native French speakers in all the classes I've gone to combined.

The studio itself is amazing; very modern, very clean, and has two studios that combined wouldn't be quite the size of the studio I go to at home. And the best part? The biggest class I've been in only had seven people, and the smallest class I've been in had two. Which is awesome because the teachers adjust you to get you into the right positions all the time. That doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but when I was doing pyramid pose the other day and the teacher moved my hips just a few centimeters into the right direction, believe me, I felt it.

So, it's fantastic to have a French Free Zone (sorry, Marie-Laure), but I am a little bit sad I won't be learning all that yoga terminology in French.

Not too sad though.

J'adore: Pom-Potes

The first time we went to church in Paris, I saw a couple of kids drinking what I thought was a juice pouch (like Capri Sun). I wondered what they were, and then when I was grocery shopping I saw that they actually weren't juice, but Pom-Potes, applesauce that comes in a pouch. I thought the boys might like them, but I had no idea they would LOVE them. They come in a natural apple flavor, and in amazing combinations like apple-pear, apple-banana, apple-strawberry and apple-apricot. And the applesauce is much smoother and more flavorful than in the states. The only problem? I'm afraid that the boys are going to go through some major Pom-Pote withdrawl when we get home since they suck down about three of these a day.

Oh well, guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Date Night

When Steve and I first found out that we were going to be living in Paris we got all excited listing all the things we wanted to do. And then we stopped suddenly realizing that we needed to add "with the kids" to that list. Don't get me wrong, we love the kids, but they're not big fans of modern art, forigen films, ethnic food, and walking long distances through the city at night.

What are they, 4 and & 7? Please. That's no excuse.

Anyway, we were a little sad to think we weren't going to have much time out together alone, but lucky for us we found a fledgling American fashion designer who is willing to babysit whenever we want.

A girl who needs cash + us needing a night away = DATE NIGHT!

So the first night we thought of just going to dinner and a movie, and then we were all, WAIT A MINUTE, WE LIVE IN PARIS! So instead, we went to the Pompidou Center, had some dinner, and walked all the way back to our apartment along the Seine. Cold, but amazingly fun, romantic, and so needed. It's gonna make those date nights back home suck big time, but I'll enjoy them Parisian style as long as I can!

Steve eating dinner and looking very bored, thus very French.

The best self portrait of us we could get along the Seine in the dark and with the bad camera, but here's one I stole from the internet that gives you a better idea.