Motherhood

It is one week away from Mother's Day, and being a mother now for 16 years, I realize it was not exactly what I was expecting .  I'm not sure I really thought it through, though, to tell you the truth.  I just knew I really wanted a baby.

 I passed the gym on my way home from a late night class and I saw toddlers walking hand in hand with their Moms and I wanted that.  I wanted little hands in mine, chubby legs and bloated tummies in shiny leotards, fine hair pulled back into two lopsided piggy tails.  Maybe I wanted a manifestation of the love between my husband and I.  Maybe having married a wonderful man who now knew all my faults and loved me fiercely anyway, maybe having realized this new level of loving, I was ready for something even more.  Or maybe it had nothing to do with him.  Maybe having reached a level of acceptance that I was just ordinary, that I was not going to be the youngest acclaimed novelist, or that I was not going to study primitive life in the jungles of Belieze, I was ready to pass those dreams on to a fresh, new life.

  To tell you the truth, I am not sure I analyzed this need, this desire, this obsession I had.  I only knew I wanted a baby, wanted it more than anything else.  It came upon me like a fever; one day I was happy with our busy, humble student married life.  The next I was consumed with wanting a child.  It ached when I thought of it.  Every month, I hoped with giddy anticipation this would be the month....each month I dropped into despair when it didn't happen.

Ten months later, when the negative finally turned positive, I was awash with relief and excitement.  That quickly turned into the fear of the unknown: what have I done? What have I sacrificed?  Our lives would never be the same.  And it wasn't.  Each child changed our life, filling it with challenges, inspiration, and love.  Though even holding the fourth one in the hospital bed, surrounded by his eager brothers and sister, I couldn't have told you what I thought our family's life would be.  Maybe I am not a planner.  Maybe after having 3 kids in as many years I had no time to envision a future; the here and now seemed obstacle enough to go through.  Or maybe I knew that with others lives, it is dangerous to think you can do anything other than patiently guide them.  Probably, I was just too scared to imagine what trials and tribulations were ahead, scared that I wouldn't know what to do or how to handle it.  So I just didn't think about it.

I've heard it said that Heavenly Father gives you the children you can handle, and thank goodness he knows I can't handle much ( knock on wood).  I assumed that my kids would be a product of me, that what I did or didn't do would make or break them.  Instead, I often find they mess up despite my help, or more often, grow and progress despite my faults.  It is me learning from them more often, and those lessons, far from being humiliating, are the sweetest lessons I've  ever learned.

In the past two months, Tritan has urged me to pray instead of freaking out when the car's gas guide read 0 miles left.  Athena reminded me that our souls are worth more than two limes when the grocer forgot to ring them up.  Reading through Paris's texts, I stumbled across him very coolly urging his friend to choose the right.  At our favorite restaurant, ready to dig into a juicy hamburger after 2 days of starving on Trek, Apollo stopped everyone to say a blessing on the food.

I am constantly amazed and humbled at the strength, power, and spirituality of these four little angels.  Perhaps that great desire I had to have children came from a God who knew I would need these teachers and leaders in my life.  All I know is they make each day an adventure, and make my life better in every sense of the word.

We say Good-Bye to Europe--for now

After the Louvre, we headed to the O'rsay, which is another amazing art museum, with more contemporary artists like Degas, Van Gough, Picasso.  We couldn't take pictures in there, though.  But it had some amazing paintings.  It is always surprising to me how much more colorful, alive, overwhelming a painting can be in person as opposed to a print.  The texture of the paints, the size of the canvas, the darkness and light--I am so grateful we got to see all these masterpieces!
On the bridge to the O'rsay, they had street vendors selling locks. Which seemed wierd, until we saw all the locks on the bridge. You and your loved one "lock your love" on the bridge, throwing the keys into the river, and your love lock hangs on through bitter winters and shiny summers--all but impossible to remove.

Although we spent most of the day walking around two huge museums, we decided to walk down the Champ de Elyees.  It starts out near the Louvre in a beautiful park, and then as it gets near the Arch de Triumph, it is lined on both sides by high brow shopping (L'Coste, Prada, Louis Vuitton, etc.) Notice the geometrical trees.  Most of the trees in the parks in Paris were manicured into squares, rectangles, or perfect circles. 
The kids had a fun time shopping.  I discovered that I don't like shopping, even in Paris.  We ate at an Italian restaurant along the way that was clearly geared for tourists.  We were relieved to find someplace that could take 6 people, but the food was tasteless and uninspired.  We had had our best meals of the trip in Paris, and our worst.
In fact, the next morning dawned frigid and both Brian and I felt some GI distress. It was Sunday morning and we were heading home later that afternoon. We discovered that the Paris Marathon was passing right by our hotel that morning, and most of the city was shut down as a result. So rather than try to fit anything else in, we stepped outside and cheered the runners on. Then we grabbed breakfast out of the grocery store and watched the rest of the marathon on the t.v. There weren't any names I recognized, since most of them are saving themselves for the Olympics, but it was still fun to see all of the runners in person. It would be fun to go back and actually run it someday!

Then Brian made my day by calling a taxi to take us to the airport rather than the original plan of schlepping through the subway and then taking a bus.  I was pretty done with trying to lug our bags up stairs and through crowded tunnels.  It was so nice to just get to the airport, check in, and wait for our plane. 
I have to say it was also a relief to finally land in Atlanta.  Walking off a French plane onto American soil, seeing signs in English again, I felt like I had just put glasses on again.  That confused, fuzzy feeling in my brain that seemed to haunt me in Paris dissappeared with the clarity of familiarity.  It struck me that half the passengers were stepping into clarity, while the other half were suddenly going to start squinting, trying to figure out how they do things here in America. 
When we finally arrived back in Charlotte, it was past midnight.  Our car was alone in the parking lot.  We drove home and crashed.  The kids got a free day at home that Monday (although we surprisingly woke up at 8).
It was a great trip.  Especially looking back at it several months later.  It was great to see Mom and Dad, and Edinburgh is still our favorite city.  It was amazing to see these old castles and palaces in Great Britian and the Eiffel Tower was breathtaking.  Our kids didn't seem to appreciate everything as much as I hoped at the time, but now that we see the same sites on the TV while watching the Olympics, they get pretty excited.  I definitely think it was worth the time, money, and stress.  I hope we get to do it again someday!

Lost, Triumph, and Victory in Paris

As we left the Pompideau, we headed to a new Subway that just opened.  Paris is our picky child, and eating foreign food, even in Europe, was a challenge for him.  So when he saw his favorite restaurant, he lobbied pretty hard to eat something familiar.  I cringed at the thought of eating American fast food in Paris, so cliche, but sometimes you do things for your kids you would never do yourself.
Brian had a call from the States as we walked to lunch, so that left me to try to wrangle the kids, ask them what they wanted, and translate it into finger pointing and amateur French.  I got through all the kids, and turned to get Paris' when I couldn't find him.  The kids shrugged and said he must have gone to the bathroom.  Only France keeps their bathrooms under lock and key, so I knew that wasn't it.  It took a minute to realize he was really missing, but once it dawned on me, I immediately ran out into the street and started toward the direction we came from.  We had been in the store for at least 5 min.  There was no telling how far behind or ahead he could be by that point.  Paris lost in Paris.  How could I even tell the local authorities what had happened?  How would we find him?
Luckily, these weren't even thoughts I had time to make then.  I stepped out into the street, and there he was, practically in my lap, wandering around and looking panicked and lost.  He was so relieved to see me, that I knew he had been lost for a while, and very worried.  Once we were seated in front of our food, I caught him praying.  After he was done, I asked, "Were you thanking Heavenly Father for helping you be found?"  He nodded.  "Did you pray that He would help you when you were lost?" I asked.  "Yes!" he answered with enthusiasm.  It suddenly struck me what a miracle it was that I found him so quickly and easily.  He was walking with us to the restaurant when he got distracted by a street performer blowing huge bubbles around children.  When he looked up, we were gone and he was alone in a strange land, surrounded by people who didn't even speak English.  How grateful I am to my Heavenly Father for looking out for my child, and for a child who had enough faith to pray for help. 
After lunch, we went to Sainte Chapelle. Another church. But this one was magical. The entire upper floor was bathed in stained glass light.

 Talk about glass houses!  Beautiful.
Then, just to pack in as much as possible, we walked through the flower district on our way to the Arch de Triumph.

There doesn't seem to be a tourist attraction that you can't climb stairs and get a great view of the city.

It was a full day, and we were asleep on our feet as we rode the metro home.  We ate at a cafe close to our home.  I had a risotto that was sublime, but the kids were disappointed they couldn't find French fries. 
The next day was Art day.  We started with the Louvre, of course.  How do you even start in a museum this big?  Thank goodness we had Rick Stevie's tour guide.  It was genius for getting us to all the main art pieces, with interesting facts about paintings and sculptures we saw along the way. 

 Venus de Milo

 Apollo

 Athena

 Athena

 Paris finally found a tapestry with the story of Paris in Paris

 Winged Victory--one of my favorite.

 Mona Lisa

 Vermeer

Paris, day 2

The next day we bought our Museum Pass.  If I will give you a tip for traveling in Europe it is this: take advantage of the metro pass in London and the Museum Pass in Paris.  The first saves you a ton of money,especially if you are site hopping like we were.  The second, saves you money AND time, because you get to skip a lot of the lines.  But only buy for adults; kids get in free to most everything anyway.  Second, be sure it is a Museum Pass--the chunnel tried to sell us a Paris Pass for a lot more money (and no real extra benefits).

 It also helps you plan your itinerary.  First, we went to Notre Dame.  It has beautiful architecture, stained glass, memorials dedicated to Joan of Arc and Mother Therese.  But I had a hard time enjoying myself.  It was dark and despite the high arches felt somewhat oppressive.  The touches of gold and and the bright stained glass seemed guady rather than regal.  We bought a couple of audio guides, but there were so many people, and it was so dark, I kept losing the kids everytime I stopped to try to listen.

We were sitting in chairs, letting the kids listen to the audio guide, in front of this rather touching statue of Mary taking Jesus off the cross, when a lady came in and immediately crossed herself, and wept.  I was amazed at her reverence and a little ashamed that I didn't feel the same thing.  But with tourists snapping photos, school troops streaming in, tour guides in a dozen languages pointing out the rose window, I reflected that though our temples are not so old or storied, they are quiet, light, and peaceful.  The Notre Dame was interesting, but it was not holy to me.

The audio guide made sure to point out the stories the mason work outside the church told.  This is a picture of John the Baptist's beheading.

Then we went to the Centre Pompideau which is Paris' art museum.  This is what we were hoping the Tate Modern would be like.   We loved it.  Even people who hate modern art would love this museum.

This was by El Anatsui, an artist that uses recycled material to make art.  Athena and I were first introduced to him when we went on a field trip to the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh, so to see him in Paris as well was really cool.

 This was a choose your own adventure story in 3-D.  So awesome!

 I had a postcard of this Braque painting when I was in high school and college.  Again, so amazing to see it in person!

It seemed like every tourist attraction in Paris had a view.  The Pompideau was no exception.  The building itself was very modern and interesting.  Notice I am holding my coat.  It was finally warm!

Paris--a tricky first date

The chunnel. 
Our plan was to get there early, unrushed, eat breakfast and then relax 4 hours as the train went under the channel and we popped up in Paris.  So we schlepped our suitcases through the tube stations to the chunnel where a security agent suggested it was too early to check in, go get a bite to eat and then come back.  There was a charming French bakery across the way, so we waited in line, then stacked our bags around our table like a barricade, and leisurely ordered eggs, Belgian waffles, orange juice.  Then I decided to look at my watch.  It was like we had been sucked into a vortex.  Somehow whole hours had passed in some black hole and our train was less than 30 min. from departure.  So we alerted our waitress, dismantled our barricade, paid for a breakfast we had yet to see, and waited nervously in the corridor between the restaurant and the chunnel check in.  I watched as the minutes seemed to flip by at an ever increasing pace and was ready to chuck the whole meal--what is one overpriced breakfast to a trip to Paris?  But at the last second, our intrepid waiter came out with 6 to-go boxes piled neatly in a sack.  We raced through security and ran to our train, then took the 4 hours to recover...and eat a surprisingly good boxed breakfast.
The subway system in Paris turned out to be even less user friendly than London.  While London had wheelchair accessible doors that facilitated big suitcases and some tube stops even had elevators, we could find neither in Paris.  (Of course, it may our lack of experience more than anything).  There seemed to be a never ending labyrinth of stairs going up and down, with no elevators or escalators, that we had to navigate to get to our connections and then the turnstiles were too narrow for our big American suitcases and we had to lift them up and over to get them through.  The station smelt like urine and a big, well-dressed black man decided to acquaint himself with the younger boys as we rode the first of two metro trains to our flat.  He had a big booming voice and he spoke French to the kids.  When that didn't work, he spoke heavily accented English, asking them where they were from and were they having fun.  The kids would answer in quiet uncertainty, mainly because they couldn't quite understand what he said, but also I think because he was so loud and jolly.  He would laugh at everything they said and turn to the other commuters and comment in French and then laugh again like we were all great friends having a good laugh on our way home from work.  I nodded and smiled because I felt like his aggressive joviality could just as easily turn nasty and mean and watched and waited for him to grab one of our suitcases and run with it or demand money from these obviously tired and naive tourists.  But maybe I was being unfair, because after two more stops he said "au revior" and got off.  Maybe it's sad we have to be so wary of friendly people.
Once we were finally out of the metro, we spent a good hour walking up and down the same streets looking for our hotel.  We asked several people, handed them the paper with the address, but mostly they just shook their heads.  Even google maps on Brian's phone seemed to be perplexed.  After a few more circles, we found them--an actual hotel, small but clean--the "double bed" being two single mattress pushed together.  We had to rent two rooms for the six of us, but they were consecutive, so we floated between the two.
It was a hot, sunny day so we decided to walk the Rue de Cler, which is like a permanent farmer's market and see the Eiffel Tower and the park surrounding it, the Champs de Mars.  When we emerged from the metro this time, the sun had been replaced with dark clouds and a fierce wind had picked up.  So we grabbed a quiche from a bistro ( I could eat a quiche in France every day) and marched to the Eiffel Tower.  It was too cold to browse the street shops that day.
By the time we approached the tower, rising up out of the green Champs de Mars like a beacon, like a great iron protector standing firmly defiant against the gathering black and green clouds, rain was pelting down, driven sideways by the frigid wind.  Where did the afternoon sun that beat down on us as we drove our suitcases in circles run off to?  But you know me and schedules.  This was the afternoon to see the Eiffel Tower, and we were going to see it.  One of the elevators going up to the top of the Tower was out of order, and they anticipated at least a two hour wait.  You could whittle that down to an hour wait if you climbed the stairs.  But with the wicked weather, the line to the stairs had dwindled to only 20 min.  We stood under the towers girders--I felt like I was standing under a great lady's skirts--and it helped temper the weather a bit.  The 347 steps to the first landing helped warm us up.  And in the time it took us to shuffle up that far, coaxing Athena and Apollo who got vertigo, the sun came out and it was a beautiful view.

Then we took an elevator all the way to the top.

I really loved the Eiffel Tower.  It was gorgeous.  It's an iron structure, but every angle, every decorative swirl, was beautiful.  It is elegant and strong at the same time.  No wonder Mr. Eiffel built himself an office here.

After a few tries we found a bistro willing to take in 6 tourists without a reservation and had the best meal of our trip to Paris.  I had Pot au feu which is basically beef stew but served with mustard, gherkins, and salt it was divine.  Apollo had a Nutella sandwich and searched in vain ever after for "chocolate sandwiches".  We got done 5 minutes before 9 so we raced back to the Eiffel to see them light it up for the first 10 min. of every hour.

The lights shimmered and danced up and down the tower and it was so beautiful, you felt a lump in your throat.  That's when you say, I am in Paris, looking at the Eiffel Tower and you pinch yourself and you love your family and everyone and everything.  Paris may not have been love at first sight, but the Eiffel Tower surely was.