We just came back from Tennessee. And Tennessee :
– is the home state and BB King, Elvis, Johnny Cash and the others, and at this point I realize that I am not going to fool anyone with my three vinyls: I still have a lot to learn about good music
– which makes it a good occasion to take my three babies/toddler to a country concert. The audience is mostly over 75 and wearing cowboy boots. At this point, you probably wonder why. But as Nayla would say: Yiiiiiha !!
– the highlight, though, has nothing to do with music, it was simply an “overweight? here is why” moment. We are trying to reheat Yann’s bottle in our Airbnb in Nashville. The microwave does have a “kid’s meals” option. I press it. Sub-menu: ‘for chicken nuggets press 1. For French fries press 2. For frozen sandwiches press 3. For hot dogs press 4″. After a moment of nervous laughing, I decide that after all, formula probably tastes like french fries the most.
Please vote for the most frightening moment I have endured over the last few days (my life being a kind of boring horror movie).
1/ that moment when you realize that your daughter, whom you though was on spring break for two days, is actually on spring break for A WHOLE FUCKING WEEK. Which means you will have to deal with her for two more days, while you have exhausted all your tricks ‘swimming pool / theater / please go to your room, find yourself something to do and come back in three hours’.
2/ that moment when after pretending for 9 months that you didn’t care, you finally convert your weight in kilograms. Yep, 170 pounds IS a lot, and not just in pounds.
3/ that moment when you are alone for the night and you cannot find the remote control of the apple TV. And you are too fat to look under the couch, see previous paragraph.
* swimming pool when you are 9 month-pregnant: a moment of pure glamour.
For the first time in history, my OB hasn’t told me I’m too fat. If you are looking for me, I’ll be at the coffee shop around the corner, eating chocolate chip cookies to celebrate.
Child obesity, here we are!!
1) Nayla went on a field trip to Dunkin Donuts with her classroom (she pronounces “doughnut” slightly scornfully). Judging by the pictures, the idea was mostly to eat tons of Donuts (or Doughnuts). But she has had a pavlovian reflex of hyper salivation ever since.
2) the teacher maitresse made a game “what would I buy if I had 100 dollars”. Well apparently what Nayla is dreaming of for 100 dollars is not Elsa’s castle, or even Elsa (!) like her friend Juliette, but 100 chicken nuggets. The teacher said that it’s a pretty accurate deal. Well what I say is she didn’t learn the word “chicken nuggets” from me…
3) the pediatrician made an unpleasant remark about the girls being slightly overweight, adding that I should probably restrain sweets in between meals. Telling ME this… me, the artichokes ayatollah, who eats disgusting local products just for the sake of feeding the girls properly!
It is exactly 5:02 PM.
I wake up from an unforeseen nap, lead my painful body toward the fridge, grab a bottle of whipped cream and joylessly gobble out of the bottle.
Living life to the fullest.
One week ago, I found out about lockdowns.
So a lockdown is a monthly or bi-monthly test practiced by the schools to prepare in case somebody comes in with a machine gun.
The protocol is as follows: all of a sudden, someone screams “lockdown” on the interphone. The teachers run to lock the door. They quickly warn the kids.They switch off the lights. And everybody runs behind the book shelf and stays silent. The classroom cannot be reopened unless the teacher is provided with a series of secret passwords. Therefore usually, the teachers and kids have to stay in the dark for as long as fifteen minutes.
This obviously made me want to cry. Nayla is three. That seems a bit young to find out about mass murder. I shrug, blaming their constant paranoia, but I can’t help feeling a start of panic because – well because it doesn’t seem that unlikely.
A few days later, I talk about lockdowns at Charlotte’s daycare. Her teacher knows: “yes, we do lockdowns here too”. Now I just laugh. How can Charlotte and a bunch of one year-olds keep silent for so long? The teacher explains: “we are locked down in the bathroom (behind Charlotte’s classroom). So we just give them our cell phones to keep them busy, and lots of cookies”.
So for Charlotte, lockdown = free cookies + cell phone = Nirvana.
I guess I have a hint as regards how America manages to create IRA generations….