Field Day!

I actually have so much to write about this week! Hence the on-time blog (well hopefully on time; it's Thursday evening as I write this and I'm about to go see Plan B with Caroline). I'm on one of those creepy natural highs that only the religious/teetotalers/religious teetotalers seem to get thanks to a week of sunshine and the strange motivation on my part to resume my running training.

Eliott just ran down the stairs and (in English) yelled to his mom, "Hold on! It's crazy important!" Needless to say I fell out of my chair laughing. Did I teach him that?

Back to my original train of thought. Natural high. Yea. So in addition to the sunshine and endorphins making me feel all warm and tingly, I have gleaned immense amounts of joy from teaching the kids the lyrics to Poker Face. I've been burning CDs for my car--generally music I like--to save myself from the horrors of french radio. As a result, the kids have been picking up lyrics to Passion Pit, Christophe Mae, and whatever else I'm enjoying at the moment. My latest CD includes a few songs from the show Glee, among them being Idina Menzel and Lea Michele's version of Poker Face. If you don't know it, google it. It is AMAZING. Judge away, I'm shameless.

Well, the kids are obsessed. Fortunately, I love this song as much as the kids, because every single time we even start walking in the direction of the car, Zoe asks me to turn that song on. At first all she knew was p-p-p-poker face p-p-poker face. Now, she knows nearly every word. I'm working on sneaking a video of her singing, because unless you see it you cannot possibly understand how freaking cute it is. I grin ear to ear on our little car rides as she belts out those lyrics.

A few days ago, Alain drove me in my car to the train station. The kids tagged along and we introduced Alain to Glee's Poker Face. Well, he must have taken to it because coming home from Zoe's concert Tuesday, he started to sing along. Then the kids joined in. Then, naturally, I had to. There we were, all belting out this song as if we were Whitney Houston/Johnny Hallyday/insert appropriate idol here. Lady Gaga has infiltrated the Pares household and is definitely here to stay.

In other news, Monday was the Fete de la Musique in Paris. It was basically a day/night full of free music everywhere. I'm talking in the street, in front of cafes, in parks, etc. It wasn't so much sitting and enjoying a single band that I enjoyed as much as it was just seeing Paris alive like that. People were dancing and singing and moving all over the place. There was even a concert in my little village still booming at 12:30 when I got home!

Tuesday was Zoe's eighth birthday. She got lots of Polly Pockets and couldn't have been happier. We had plain noodles for dinner--her favorite dish--and a yummy raspberry cake that I'm in the middle of finishing off (single-handedly). We're celebrating again on Saturday with her relatives and I'm already excited as I heard the whisperings of plans for bleu cheese souffles and other deliciousness.

Today I got to play chaperone for Eliott's rencontre sportive, literally an athletic meeting. Basically a glorified field day where his class plays games with teams from other schools. Believe it or not (I mean come on, I don't have an athletic bone in my body), I was pretty psyched to get to go along! Eliott is a good kid and his friends are pretty entertaining. At the very least I would be soaking up the glorious sun rays all day (just what my already fried skin needs...this time, however, I lathered on the SPF--or FPS--as the french say). I got put in charge of the relay races and since I wasn't the one running them, things went pretty smoothly. I only had one kid the entire day ask me about my funny accent.

The roll-over-and-die moment came during the picnic lunch. I was sitting next to Eliott's oh-so-cute teacher and the other chaperone mom. There were two or three other little girls near us, but other than that it was just us adults. We were chatting and eating and the mom got up to do something, leaving me alone with cutie professor. Unfortunately, my skills in french seem to go out the window when forced to make awkward conversation, so I just sat there munching away, probably looking like a complete idiot. Actually, correction, even bigger complete idiot. The teacher told me he saw me running in town yesterday and I could only imagine how much I looked like a sweaty cow.

I digress. So there we were eating our lunch when out of nowhere, the little girl next to me ripped a fart that registered at least a 5 on the Richter scale. It was clearly one of those pent up, airy, accident farts but nonetheless it nearly busted my ear drum and gave me a scare to boot. So there I was, left with how to react this situation.

I tried not to look at the professor, whose head had jerked up in unabashed disgust and surprise. The little girl, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

Please don't let him think that was me I kept repeating to myself.

My second, near immediate response was to laugh. I'm talking a side-splitting guffaw. You know, typical five year old reaction to an accidental toot. It's actually what I'm doing right now as I type this. Hysterically laughing.

(Whew, just had to take a minute) I do not know how I managed to keep my cool. I chewed on my cheeks and thought about that creepy dream I had last night where I was in labor. I think despite my concentration, a few tiny giggles came out and I choked on my water a little. Who wouldn't laugh? Well, maybe most mature adults, but that's besides the point.

Well, it's Friday morning now and I'm half asleep as I finish this post. Alain just made some snide remark about how it's so sad that I won't be able to go back to sleep today because I have to wait for some delivery man between 10 and 2. I wanted to scream something nasty but then remembered that he was actually my boss and not my pal, and that seeing my boss first thing in the morning is just an unfortunate downside of the job. What does he care if I like to sleep til eleven rather than wake up at 730? It's my gap year bitches.

And with that, I'm going back to bed.