L'Amour d'enfants

Finally, I am back in touch with the world and connected to all of you, once more. It feels great to be able to contact people again and catch you up on what's been going on in France. Besides the usual antics of kids and carpool, I have become the interim Karima. On Mondays and Fridays, I have assumed the position of "nurse" for Marine, in that, I take care of her all day, do the laundry and iron all of the clothes. Have I mentioned that there is no dryer here, so all the clothes air dry outside, so EVERYTHING down to underwear gets ironed. Bertrand also washes his dress shirts, so I am now somewhat of a one hour martinzing (though it takes me about 2 hours to do his 4 shirts). My dad no longer takes his dress shirts to the cleaners so every night in our household there is a battle between man and ironing board, I now know that pain. Delicately I try to keep the shirt crisp and clean, but as soon as I make a move to iron out the sleeve leave it tumbles to the floor in a wrinkled mess. Father, please send me a step-by-step "Ironing work shirts for dummies" guide, as you now have it down to a science. I never thought I would be ironing t-shirts, which defeats the entire purpose of cette article of clothing, but what can I do. I actually don't mind the ironing (don't get any ideas, Mom) because it gives me something to do and I get paid 50 Euros for a days work. Not too shabby and with just Marine there, I get it done fairly quickly.

I'd say the latest in child care is The Tornado's lack of bladder assertion. In the past few weeks, we've had a few accidents after school, where making it to the bathroom is not a top priority when nature calls. Right after the maid came the other week, The Tornado just couldn't quite get his shoes off in time (a ritual upon entering la maison) and tried to make it to the bathroom, but failed. I was unaware as I was tending to the other two and hear sobs from, of course, my toilet. I opened the door and in a puddle of rather curious smelling water in the corner, was the culprit. I got out the mop, threw the clothes in the washing machine and attempted to remedy the situation. Then later there was an incident with "Number Two" - let's just say that will most likely be the defining moment of my life as an au pair and shall be coined "Dingleberry-gate". If your curiosity gets the best of you, you may e-mail me your request for the story and I will oblige, but out of respect for both parties involved (myself and Eliott) I will not publish.

While The Mouth, The Boss and I have appetites like horses, The Tornado has not been hungry as of late. After church with the family on Sunday (I previously posted a picture of the 18th century church) we all headed back to the house for lunch. Michele cooked some steak something or other, which was great because (after a diet of literally assorted ways of preparing ham and eggs) my iron count was dangerously low. While most of use at and drank our way into comas, The Tornado was just not hungry. "Why are you not hungry [Tornado]," I asked. "Becas I yam een love...," insert an exasperated sigh only a French 4 year old could muster and just imagine the scene. Come to find out he is in love with his friend we carpool with, we'll call her The Flower, because she is just adorable. "I juice-t lahve [The Flower] and I vant to go play wi-is 'er right-a-now." It was too funny, so today I brought both of The Flower and The Tornado to school and chaperoned while they laughed and played in the backseat. The Tornado was also dressed very dapper today, I might add. We went for the collared shirt and pullover sweater look, which should tell The Flower, "I'm casual, yet refined." After all, four-year-old kids MUST think on this level, right?

Lately, I have befriended many mothers in the village and seem to be the go-to for all things English. Michele divulged to me this morning that she's received three calls from mothers wondering if I can help their children with English. "I sink (think) sey (they) not-ice yew and know you arrre verrry niy-ce," said Michele, which is a great compliment to receive and I am honored to be the village tutor (or dunce, we'll see). I'll be able to use Eliott's books from English school as a bit of a lesson plan, but I think with a lot of these kids I will be starting from scratch. However, this also means I'll be making a bit more money, so bring it on. Either Thursday or Friday I have to go to La Clef to take my French test, as my classes start at the beginning of October. The test should be laughable, as my grammar in French has always been subpar. Those classes will hopefully be only two days-a-week inSGeL. Despite the internet problems and bit of bathroom humor, it's been pretty low key and nice around here, so I'll be posting more later to catch everyone up. Bisous.