Christmas

A few Christmas moments from Toulon.

Yes, we stayed in France this year because my big, port-visit trip with Phil fell right after Christmas. I had to chose. Christmas in the US with lots of family and festivities, or a low-key Christmas in France with a once-in-a-lifetime second honeymoon right after. I chose my husband...and the five star hotel.

And we were not at all alone for the holidays. I am so grateful Phil's parents were with us again for the second year in a row. Despite the high, holiday ticket prices, other grand kids to spend Christmas with, and visiting beautiful France during its most un-beautiful season (lots of rain and wind), they willingly came to spend two weeks with us. And the best part...they're staying here with the kids while I'm in Abu Dhabi. So my kids will be spoiled and fussed over while I'm away. Read: I don't feel guilty for leaving.

In the meantime, we've tried to have a couple little adventures before I go...

like taking the bus to a Naval History Museum.

As you can see my children are super intelligent--at least they looked like it, while walking around the museum with the audio guides pressed up to their ears.

I was laughing at little Zachary in his outfit. He looks like he's ready to walk the halls of Harvard.

The next day we did a little morning market shopping in our neighborhood. The kids were able to see Santa and his brass band(?).

Christmas Eve night (having no church service to go to) we had a little birthday party for Jesus. The kids loved it and made "Kids of the King" hats.

Christmas Day passed by nicely even though we were missing our other family so far away...and missing our Daddy here. There were more presents than any two children should ever receive--resulting in the obligatory Christmas-morning-meltdown.

A photo shoot in fancy clothes from Grandma Jan.

One child is always more willing and ready to pose than the other...

I think he's zoned-in on the fruit snack packet Grandma is waving in the air behind me.

And then we ate a lovely Mediterranean-take on Christmas Dinner. Roasted leg of lamb, parsley and butter potatoes, and ratatouille.

The weather was unfortunately (but seasonally) terrible, but we were warm and cozy inside with new toys and Grandparents to play with.

I have so much to be thankful for. My getaway trip is only happening because my kind in-laws were willing to come to stay with the kids. I have two beautiful, healthy kids who make me laugh (and sometimes cry) everyday. And more EVERY-thing than I could ever need. But I'm most grateful that Jesus came into the world to save sinners--like me!

Oh, and I will say it again this year...next year, I will be HOME for Christmas. Are you listening French Navy?

"Lucky"

How do you know when you're on deployment with the French Navy and not the US Navy...(the little things that a wife not being on the ship can wrap her mind around)...

. When you have these under the tables of the bar on board. Lots and lots of kegs.

2. When you have a BAR ON BOARD!!!!!

3. When your flight briefing room has a baguette bag refilled every morning from the baker on board.

4. When your helicopter has a pointy-nose.

5. When your Christmas Eve program started with a cocktail hour and was followed by Mass.

6. When your ship has a "escale famille"---FAMILY PORT VISIT.

#6 is the best on this list for me. Because in two days I'm leaving France and flying to United Arab Emirates to have five full days with my husband. It might be called a "family port visit", but I wasn't fooled. My kids are NOT coming. My suitcase with bathing suits and summer dresses has been packed for over a week. There aren't words to describe how excited and ready I am go and have time alone with him.

If it was the US Navy, if there was such a thing as a "family port visit," he'd undoubtedly have duty or some sort of watch obligation for some of the time. Not so in the French Navy. He will be completely free--completely able to relax with me poolside at our splurge of a hotel. Merry Christmas to me from the French Navy.

I always have a "deployment song". The song on repeat in my car. Seriously, I don't know how many times I've listened to this one. But I'm about to experience the second verse..."And so I'm sailing through the sea, to an island where we'll meet"...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=acvIVA9-FMQ

I'm counting on this trip to make the four and half month deployment "worth it". Which brings me to difference number 7--

7. With the French Navy a four and half month deployment is considered long. US deployments are more like six, seven, twelve months separations. I really am "lucky".

Initiation French Navy Wife Night

I was in over my head the moment I accepted the invitation. Dinner with big-whig wives of the ship. I have no idea why or how I was included on the guest list. There were only twelve others. Hummm? Ship of over three thousand? Just twelve for dinner? Why the heck am I here? It was like the inner, inner circle of French Navy Wives.

Back the story up a week ago...Upon accepting the invitation, I was told to bring an appetizer. The host (a new friend) told me, "I'm going to do all the desserts." She also very specifically told me, "Bring something casual. I'm very simple. Nothing too fussy. They'll be about twelve of us." And then she went on to tell me about an experience she had with an American friend during her one year stay in the US. This American woman made an appetizer "with just cream cheese and jelly," she exclaimed. "Something like that," she told me. Ok, I can do that I thought, assuming our definitions of "casual" and "simple" were the same. Super wrong. Super wrong, Sarah.

I stressed more about my outfit than my appetizers. As I walked up the big hill to the fancy house I straightened my scarf and felt pretty confident carrying my large bag with my pyrex casserole dish and big bowl inside. The hostess greeted me at the door and right away gawked at my huge bag. "Are you feeding the world with what's in there?" she demanded right away. "Um no."

Totally confused and already searching for words to explain myself, I turned the corner and was in the living room where super-skinny French women were eating crackers the size of a quarter with some sort of fancy spread on them. I quickly scanned the table and noticed that the only things on the table were bite-sized, fancy, rolled-up things. Tiny tarts filled with strange colors. No plates. Just napkins and dainty fingers picking up doll-food from silver platters, sharing courtesy laughs. And champagne...really expensive champagne.

At this point the hostess was still teasing me for the size of my bag and I felt like all twelve ladies were staring at me. I worked my way quickly to the kitchen out of sight---trying not to burst into tears in front of everyone. Why was I having a meltdown? Ummmm, because I brought meatballs and bean dip to a party where everyone was eating caviar and smoked salmon on tiny spoons.

I can laugh about it now, but last night, man, I was a wreck. It's about way more than the food...it's about ALWAYS being an outsider. Why did this woman tell me it was casual? Why would she tease me in front of everyone? Of course I had NO IDEA what to bring to her house, I'm not French. I've never been to a fancy French Navy Wife thing-y. It took me five, long minutes, two glasses of water (believe me I was searching for something stronger) and several splashes on the cheeks for me to be able to go back in the room and face everyone. I thought long and hard about just running. Leaving everything, grabbing my keys and making a run for it. "That will give them something to talk about," I said to myself. But I didn't. I hid my bag in the coat room. I stumbled all over my words telling my friend, the hostess, that I wasn't bringing out my food. Yes, yes, she insisted. NO! NO! NO! I insisted more.

And that's a lesson learned. It's not a football party. It's not a casual girl night. It's not a filling, satisfying meal. It couldn't be any more stereotypically French, so I don't know why I was so shocked and unprepared. It's five hours of sitting and being served and smiling and pretending to understand a culture* so full of itself.

*In my opinion...French Navy Officer culture is something more particular than just French culture in general. It's... high society/big families/a desire to be "classic-French" on steroids.

I appreciated the invitation...and the evening ended far better than it started. Eighty percent of the women there were kind to me. And if eighty percent of the women are nice to you at an event, that's plenty--in any culture. French-Navy wives or American-Navy wives.

Recipe for Homesickness

Get out your violins, I just need a moment of self-indulging, cry-me-a-river, self pity time, ok?

This is usually one of my favorite weeks in the entire year, every year. Three events collide in the same week making for seven days of celebrating, feasting, and cheering. My birthday, Thanksgiving and the Ohio State/Michigan Game all happen in late November. And all my memories of these occasions take me home with family: chocolate cherry birthday cakes, shopping with my sisters, planning and cooking with my Mom, kid tables and adult tables for the Thanksgiving meal, and buckeye necklaces and brats at 11am on Saturday, followed by football parties and tailgating. These things may seem totally trivial, and I know in the long term they are, but they are all the wonderful, fantastic, comfortable traditions I associate with this week in November. And I was here...a long, long way from there... where the family-ing and feasting and footballing continued without me...

My attitude this week was textbook homesickness. I've been moping and feeling pretty sorry for myself. Not only are we far away from our fabulous families, but Phil's not even here. I kept telling myself I could have made it through the week better if he were here with me. But alone, yeah, it's been really tough. Do you want me to tell you how long it's been since I've slept through the night without caring for my rebelling sleeper Zachary? Up every three hours with him...ahhh, it's beyond frustrating. And all through last night Lily was suffering from an ear infection...awesome. Long week...

I had things happening here this week. I wasn't necessarily crying all day in my sweat pants in bed. I had a very nice, quiet birthday pizza date with friends, and we were invited to another friends house for Thanksgiving meal. I tried very hard to express how grateful and appreciative I was for all their efforts. But to say my heart was heavy and my eyes were sad is probably an understatement. It was just a sucky week...and I'm so glad it's coming to an end.

Here are pictures of our lonely Saturday. We had plans, but we cancelled because Lily was so sick...a fitting end to the week. And after an emotional couple of days, I was happy to just wear a hooded sweatshirt, make chicken soup, and snuggle my babies. Next week will be better. It has to be. I mean, the Buckeyes won big, so things are definitely looking up!

(What I love about this picture...Zachary's "B"...yes, this disgusting thing is everywhere he is...and how messy my house looks...or is???)

(Little miss sick-o. She looks much, much better now after her antibiotics. I'm hopeful that tomorrow she'll be back to normal because she is one pathetic patient).

Sweetness

Lily loves to drink milk. But the only way we can get Zachary to drink milk is by making it chocolate milk. (A solution Phil thought of during our last trip to an American commissary in Italy where we bought our very own bottle of Hershey's Chocolate Syrup--I have no idea what the French equivalent is, but I should probably find out because this bottle is going fast).

And now that Zachary's super-duper-sweet-tooth has become accustomed to the extra sugar in his milk, he's been asking to up-the-ante lately.

He gathered all of this himself and brought it to me...(not in the picture, but on the ground in front of him...his plastic, blue cup)

"Mom, can you make my orange juice a little sweeter, please?"

For the sake of his insulin levels, my answer was, "no, buddy."

I cannot tell you how many times I've heard French people describe Zack as, "très sage". Smart. But my first adjective for Zachary will always be--sweet. Because when he snuggles me, it's as delicious and satisfying and over-the-top as a cup of chocolate orange juice.

Too Busy Having Fun

I don't know where the last three weeks have gone...oh, wait, yeah I do...

1. Unexpected and exciting visit from my husband. Gone for two and half weeks, home for ten days because of a broken ship--excellent surprise!

2. Sarah-and-kids trip to Naples to visit our very good friends. Five days of familiar, comfortable, friendship and laughs. On the American base in Naples the kids were able to go trick or treating, go to ballet class and eat fruit snacks. I took advantage of the Italian cappuccino, and the designer sunglasses on sale at the NEX.

3. A visit from my Mom. Ten action-packed days which included many fabulous lunches enjoyed on sunny terraces with a pichet of rose. A fifty kilometer bike ride on back roads through the rolling vineyards of Provence. A morning of kayaking (and swimming) on the Mediterranean. A day trip to Nice. And wine tastings at two fantastic chateaus.

And now I find myself realizing that all the excitement is over for awhile. Phil left again for his deployment while we were having our fun time in Italy. Coming home, we were all easily distracted by my Mom's visit. But now we have to make it to Christmas time before our next visitors arrive. I guess it's time to get back to our school-routines, learning French, and refreshing my email every two minutes. After all our recent adventures, I think it's going to be a long five weeks!

One Year Ago...

(around this time) we arrived in France. We spent four days in Paris working out final details, becoming official with the Embassy and recovering from jet-lag (like the overstimulated, exhausted children kind of jet lag).

Four days later, already totally overwhelmed, we hoisted hundreds of pounds of luggage, two kids and our dog on a train and headed for "the South of France" for the first time. Four and a half hours later, we arrived to sunshine and palm trees and our new "home" for the next three years.

I can say personally, socially, intellectually, spiritually, this last year has been the most difficult year of my life. (I'll be the first to admit, I've had a very easy life, so maybe that's not saying much).

We have changed and grown and adapted in a lot of ways. When French friends ask us if we speak French at home, we are quick to say, "no". Our home is our refuge. But even in our refuge of normalness, throughout our year of living here, some of France has crept inside.

1. Language. This came easily for some--LILY. And it came out of necessity (and at great financial cost)--ME. And it advanced itself in leaps and bounds--Phil. French people tell us Lily speaks without an accent, fluently for a kid her age. I can now make phone calls, go to the doctors office, have lunch at a friends house, and follow a sermon all on my own. Phil can fly helicopters, debate topics, and make people laugh all in French.

2. I used to think getting two kids out of car seats and dragging everyone into a bakery for a silly loaf of bread was way too much effort. But, now I'm hooked. As is Zachary. He starts pointing and screeching every time we pass the place. Fresh bread everyday is no longer a hassle, it's an event.

3. I'm over "sticker shock". Phil won't be happy to read this. Groceries, gas, clothes...you name it, it's more expensive here. But COLA is a wonderful thing and I've learned to relax. Last year, I would go to the check out, "hear" the total amount from the clerk, and have no idea what she said. I'd swipe my card, knowing it was expensive, but not knowing the exact amount. Now, I can't necessarily claim ignorance, but I swipe my card and move on none-the-less. And now that I can understand numbers, I've even been known to make correct change once or twice!

4. I love carbonated water, olives, beets and smelly cheeses. Our diet has embraced the products of this region. Every once in awhile, I still load up everyone up in the car for some McDonald's---a little American break. But I'm more likely to crave goat cheese on warm baguette now than fries.

5. We can now successfully host a four and half hour dinner party for French people. We know to invite them over at 8:30pm (and they'll show up at 9:00). We know to have all the dishes clean at the beginning on the night, because with a four course meal, you're going to need all of them. We know the phrase, "help yourself" doesn't really translate into the behavior that Americans are used to at an informal dinner between friends in the US. We know to serve lettuce with the cheese course which is after the main course and before the dessert course. We know a dinner ending at 1am is totally normal and expected.

6. I've found freedom in parking illegally. I gave-in to the immature argument of "everyone else is doing it." At the beginning I resisted with all the "anglo-saxon-rule-abiding-nature" in me. But now you'll find our Subaru all over this area, with the flashers flashing parked haphazardly. Wearing my scarf, I can walk away with confidence knowing no one will even bat an eye at me.

7. Even our dog, Scout has adapted. During our short, initial stay in Paris, we had to walk her fifteen minutes to find a patch of grass where she would feel comfortable enough to "do her business". Even though we stepped over huge piles of poop on the sidewalks to get there, she had to have her grass. But just the other day, I witnessed her "going" in the middle of the street. I was flabbergasted...she's become French.

There are more examples, but that's enough for now. We have two more years here, you know! And possibly the biggest change of all from one year ago is... NOW I can say truthfully, I'm VERY much looking forward to them.