Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Monday, December 08, 2014
So it was a whole month ago but we've only just stopped the celebrations! I can't quite believe our baby is one year old. I know everyone says it and everyone warns you to make the most of it when they're babies but it's so true - the time flies by.
I started planning the birthday party months in advance. I saw a rainbow cake. I wanted to make my own rainbow cake. I made a rainbow cake! And thanks to the rainbow cake I started to plan a rainbow-themed birthday party. It was all going well; I'd bought special party plates, cups, wine glasses and had started making decorations all to fit in with the rainbow theme but at some point I lost interest in the rainbow-ness (apart from the cake) and about a week before the big day I changed my mind and started frantically planning a Moustache Bash. I found some awesome free printables from printabelle.com. I kept the rainbow cake though, even though it had nothing whatsoever to do with moustaches, although thinking about it now, how cool would a rainbow 'tache look!
Friday, March 22, 2013
I haven't had an awful lot of time to blog this past week; we're going to Scotland tomorrow and the packing has just been horrendous. But it's all going to be so worth it once we get there, ohhh yes it is! You see, it's the first time we've been to Scotland since Little A arrived and I can't wait to take him 'home'. Can't wait!
Admittedly I'm slightly freaking out about the 2 hour flight with the baby though...My only hope is that we won't be 'that' family with the screaming baby. I know, I know, I'm certain that I've complained about babies crying on planes somewhere on this blog but that was before. Now I'm going to be the one trying to ignore the dirty looks of other passengers, pretending that I don't know they're fantasising about punching me in the face while I simultaniously try everything possible to calm my baby. Oh dear...
So you won't hear from me for the next week or so. I hope you all have a lovely Easter!
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
FP comes from a long line of swearers. I didn't realise how bad his swearing was at the beginning of our relationship because
a) we were young and swore often because it was kind of 'cool'
b) he swore in French.
But my husband, and his whole family, are big swearers.
Although I knew certain French swear words (merde, for example) before meeting FP, he and his family have definitley been the people who have taught me the most 'gros mots' and if you sat at the dinner table with them one evening and counted the number of bad words that came out of their mouths I'm pretty sure you'd be shocked (or impressed, depending on your own opinions on cursing).
Because of them, I've found myself in more than my fair share of embarrassing situations during my ex-pat life in France. You see, my in-laws swear so much in every day conversation that certain bad words are so indistinguishable from acceptable words that during my first week working at my first job in France I said I was a 'connasse' (stupid bitch) when in fact all I meant to say was 'oops, silly me' (or more likely, 'I'm an idiot'). Roll on a few years and you'd have thought I might have learned the difference between acceptable and unacceptable words but alas...I was working with children, teaching English. One of my students (age 6 or 7) was doing something revolting and I told her that it was 'degueulasse' (minging, gross, filthy...it's not a swear word as such but shouldn't be used with kids). Yeah. She cried.
Ah bad words, what would life be like without them!
In my experience as an English teacher, swear words are probably the funnest vocabulary lesson ever and without a doubt - although I'm still not sure the exact reason for this - the naughtiest words are so much easier to retain than any piece of 'useful' vocabulary for an English student. People are fascinated by bad words in a foreign language...it's true! I know I can't be the only one who sat at the back of the class at high school, giggling, with a German dictionary open at 'scheisse'.
Ten years on from high school and I still occasionally think swear words are funny. There are certain times and places where it can make me laugh, like in a stand up comedian's show or if FP is telling a story and uses a 'gros mot' for emphasis. I've also been known to swear A LOT when I'm angry. Otherwise, I come from a family of non-swearers where the odd 'shit' or 'shite' is acceptable when emotions are running high but we never go further than that. I recently used the 'F' word in front of my mum for the very first time while I was driving and panicking and I cannot begin to tell you how ashamed I felt, even though my mum just said 'calm down' and later revealed to me the word has also slipped out of her own mouth when in the car without my dad who, it has to be said, would be shocked to hear either of us use the f-bomb.
And as I'm getting older I'm realising I've been turning into my dad. Without the beard. Okay, so I still swear if I'm annoyed but I'm trying to change that habit. There's a little baby boy in our house, about to start learning how to talk and I'm very aware of that fact. He already understands the word 'dog' (he'll 'woof' like a dog if you ask him to) and 'dance' (he'll bob up and down rythmically) and I really don't want him to be a baby swearer, in English or in French.
And so the time has come to start changing FP's bad habit of swearing. When I told him this he looked at me the way a dog looks at his owner when he's sitting on the loo - you know, head cocked to the side, 'whatcha doing?' written all over his face - and said "but Linsey there are no other words in the French language to replace a 'gros mot' quite so elequently."
"There are loads of words to replace swear words." I said. "Crotte, mince, zut..." I listed off on my fingers.
He looked at me wide eyed and pointed an accusatory finger my way. "You want me to sound like a dafty *! No one uses those words above the age of 5 and below the age of 85." He hmphed**. After a moment he asked me what words I'll be replacing my own swear words with.
I looked at him, all dignified and said, "flip, sugar, oh dear..."
FP smirked. "We'll see," he said and turned back to the TV.
It wasn't long before I got the chance to use my new swear word replacements. That evening I dropped a full wine glass all over the kitchen floor. There was red wine & broken glass everywhere and not only that but it was the last of the bottle! The frustration built up inside me like a bomb about to explode.
"Ah-ah" FP interrupted me. "No swear words." I looked desperately from him to the baby and back again.
"F-F-F-FLIP FLIP FLIIIIIIP!" I said through gritted teeth. "OH FIDDLESTICKS!"
It really didn't make me feel better at all. Not the way a good old fashioned 'shit', 'shite' or 'f**k' would have made me feel better. And I suppose it was at that moment that I realised I had two choices : sound like a dafty everytime I needed to swear or have a baby swearer.
I still haven't quite made up my mind on that one...
* dafty = idiot in Scottish slang
** yeah, I did just make up a verb!
Monday, March 11, 2013
Little A was refusing to nap but, having been awake and on the go for the past 5 hours, he was getting pretty grouchy so I sat myself down on the sofa, put him on my knee and chose a boardbook to read together. It was 'That's not my puppy' from the 'That's not my...' series (I highly recommend these touchy feely books, they're so cute!). Miraculously, as soon as I started reading, Little A's grumpy wee face lit up and he reached out eagerly to stroke the puppy's fur on the front cover. We were halfway through when I realised that I couldn't turn the next page. The cardboard pages seemed to be firmly stuck together. Being very careful not to damage the book I slowly managed to peel the pages apart and opened the book at one of Little A's favourite puppies : the puppy whose 'ears are too shaggy' . But lo and behold one of that puppy's poor shaggy ears was covered in...what...is it really? I gave it a good sniff. Yes. Yes, it was.
What a glamerous life I lead.
*photo was when he was 4 months old.
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Ok people. I am obsessed with baby fashion. Obsessed I tell you!
There's a post on a parenting forum I know where people post photos of their scrumptious wee babies in scrumptious wee outfits. I love it! But I can't participate because I've completely forgotten my password and my user name so...I'm going to do it here.
This wasn't today. This was a few days ago but it's one of my favourite pairs of dungarees that Little A has ever owned and I think this is probably the last time he'll get to wear them as they're a wee bit nippit (that's a Scottish word for too tight / too small).
Green t-shirt "stop les punitions" ("stop the punishments") was a gift and I don't recognise the label...
Beige long sleeved vest from Petit Bateau
Socks with non-slip grips on the soles from Baby-Walz
The beginning of part three should probably have started when Little A was born. His arrival was evidently what changed everything.
Tags; Family Matters