Well, that got cut short--so much for his letting me write my blog entries.
I was going to tell you more about my Mother's Day, but now I'll keep that to a quick summary: I got the best duck & rabbit fricassee over tagliatelle that you can imagine. I didn't have to change a diaper all day. I got to take hot bath. And we went to the Mt. Valerien fort that I mentioned. It is quite something--it seems that, if you're interested in the history of the Resistance, that is absolutely the most important place to visit in all of France. The monument's pictures don't give you a good sense of scale, but it's very impressive. It's huge, and the sculptures are genuinely good in their own right as well as historically interesting. Plus, you have a really good view of the Eiffel Tower. We didn't time it to make one of the tours of the crypt inside, but we did get a good look at the fresh wreaths laid for VE day (which is a much bigger deal here, for obvious reasons). We were also pretty struck by the teenagers who go there just to hang out on weekends--can you imagine American teenagers going to sit and do all their very important nothing in any comparable site of historical importance in the U.S.? It makes me feel like quite the uncultured whelp. Oh, and as you walk around the fort, you not only get glimpses of Napoleon's orphanage and the military dovecotes, you also discover that they clearly have some sort of huge dog-training operation: the moat is full of jumps & obedience & agility equipment, with lots of "canin royal" banners lining the sides.
This week has been a little more rough. Tristram is doing a lot better since I decided he had to tough it out for five minutes twice a day. It's actually turned out to be very much like when he was tiny and I finally got too tired to walk up and down with him till he fell asleep: I sat down and held him, and he screamed but then fell sound asleep within 15 minutes. Now he fusses for a couple of minutes, and just when you think he's going to have a meltdown he decides it's really boring and goes and finds something to do. I wish someone had told me that instead of just all the admonishments mothers get to "take time for yourself!" Those always seem cruel unless they include some advice on how exactly one is supposed to do that. I don't imagine there are any mothers to whom it's never occurred that it might be nice to have some time for themselves. But what are you supposed to do, declare it "time for myself" and ignore your screaming kid? That would lots of fun for us both. Now that I've realized he actually will amuse himself for 15-30 minutes if I don't give in right away, life is much easier. However, at the same time I've now got lots more to do, as I'm co-authoring a chapter for a British geropsychiatry textbook in addition to the open source project, so I've been frustrated again. But at least now I am frustrated and productive, not just frustrated.
Yesterday was our last farm visit. I am going to miss the community life here a lot. And the parks. We went to the Parc de Bercy today. It is, like just about every park we have been to here, unbelievably beautiful and astoundingly well-integrated into the city space around it. Seamless, but completely peaceful inside. This one features an extensive water feature running into a lake with nesting boxes for ducks, a rhododendron garden, a peony garden (not quite blooming yet), an old vineyard, and an experimental organic garden managed by the local junior high kids. Again, I am loathe to go back to the dreary patches of grass that pass for parks in the States.
While we were doing that, we missed three of the local events: 1) The festival of youth and sports, at the park over on the island; 2) the painter's market in our local square and extending down the wisteria walkway to the river; and 3) the Promenade des Gallicourts, a set of three walking tours for Napoleon & Josephine buffs. Apparently people were busing in from all over France for the set of three hikes (different lengths and steepnesses depending on how hardcore you are).
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