At home

So this is the first real day I have for myself in such a long time. My baby is at the nursery for the full day today, my daughter is at school, my man is at work. 
I spent the morning cleaning my messy dusty durty home. I just can't start anything in such a mess. Also, I would have felt guilty to not do something for the family. I know they'll notice a change when they'll come home, and they'll apreciate - at least my man will.


I must admit, I love being alone.


I had my first kaki fruit of the year. My passion for this fruit began when I had gestational diabete and I was allowed to eat only three fruits a day, apart from that I couldn't have anything sweet for almost three months - a pure torture for a cupcake/cookie/cake/chocolate lover like me. 

My friends, as much as I love my man and my children, I have to tell you: it feels good to be home alone today.

The new bed

The good thing about our nursery* is that they pay a lot of attention to the babies' habits and rythms, and so in order for Swann to feel at home, they accepted that we bring his own crib bumper. And since he needed a larger one for his bed at home now that he moves a lot, I decided to take his "old" one to the nursery, and make him a new one for at home. So that's what I did on Sunday, and I'm pretty happy with the result considering I had only a few hours to make it. I couldn't find the same fabric, but I think this one is really nice too and goes well with the color of his bed.


The new crib bumper:

The old crib bumper - now at the nursery, yay:

* I got mixed up and called it earlier a daycare center, but I think where Swann goes is more a nursery, where babies stay all day while the parents work. We called that une crèche in French. Ah, it's not always easy to translate these things :)

The little girl in me

Today, I went to buy ballet shoes for my daughter, for her oriental dance class. The minute she tried them on, I fell in love. Funny how you can fall in love with things sometimes. They had my size in black and I thought that next time I want can buy myself a little gift, I'll go and get a pair of those ballet shoes to use them as slippers.


And then tonight, as I was having dinner all by myself for once, I started thinking about my daughter's ballet shoes and memories came back to me.


I was about her age.
I wanted to be a ballerina.
At that time, we had a summer house in the southwest of France and there, my sister E. and I had ballet pointe shoes. I don't know where we got them, maybe my mother had bought them for us at a brocante (a village flea market). I used to wear them and dance around, pretending I was a famous dancer. After a while, they hurt my feet, but I didn't care. I could see myself dancing Swan Lake, with a beautiful ballet tutu and my hair carefuly tied in a bun, and I kept spinning around with my shoes.

photo found here

                                                                                                                                                                                                  
And as I am writing this, I can feel that the little girl in me is still dancing.


I named my son Swann (not even thinking of the ballet).
I tie my hair in a bun every other day.
I am not a dancer but I am graceful.
I fall in love with ballet shoes.
I am still a dreamer.

Family

I love big families. 
Babies, children, adults, grandparents, four generations in one room, to celebrate my grandfather's 84th birthday. We ate French and Danish, spoke English, Danish, Spanish, and French. Had to struggle to find a sit, run back to the kitchen for more plates and glasses, kids playing around, babies falling asleep here and there, one on his stroller, the other on his father's lap, we had a wonderful time together.

A card for Elodie

It's been two weeks now and no one has news from Elodie, not even her grandparents. They have been called the day she moved to be told that she had arrived and she was fine, since then, no news. 


All we have is an adress to a place where to send letters, but it's not even the adress of her new family. We are not even sure she gets the letters. Her grandparents have been writing her, but they've had no response so far. They haven't been able to talk to her on the phone and don't know when they're going to be able to see her.


I wonder how she feels, and according to what law or psychology these people think it's better for her this way...


I made a card for her the other day. I could have bought one, but like usual when I really care about someone, I prefered to make it myself, with love. I used Liberty printed tape and dot paper. And that's all we can do, to send our love and best thoughts, and hope she is ok.

Le square Trousseau

I've been to this little park ever since my daughter was a baby and even before since my sister used to live right next to it. It's one of those places where you go and feel at home. It is so charming and for some reason, kids always seem to be happy in square Trousseau. I love this area (metro Ledru Rollin in the 12th arrondissement): the architecture of the buildings around the park is so beautiful, and right behind it, the marché d'Aligre is so familiar to me: one of the cheapest outdoor markets in Paris for fruits and vegetables, a unique and friendly atmosphere where bobo people meet Arab people and old residents of the quartier, a few minutes away from place de la Bastille. 

So that's where we were today me and my little man, enjoying the bright sun again after a morning at the daycare center, where everything is going well for Swann.

Sunny

This was a sunny weekend in Paris, maybe the last days of Summer of the year (even if it's already Autumn). Parisians looked good and happy, children where joyful and everybody seemed to be in a good mood. While my daughter was at a birthday party, we went out and stopped by a little park on Rue Royal in the Marais. I looked around us. I thought that no matter how nice looking the other fathers were, no one was as handsome and sexy as my man. Good for me :) And also, I realized that most of the kids there were dressed with clothes that could pay my rent. Ah... money! But like my man and I said on our way back home, if we had more money, I wouldn't be so creative...

On rue des Francs Bourgeois this afternoon.

One of my favorite streets in Paris. The ideal place to go shopping with a falafel in one hand and the hand of your lover in the other...

Things to brighten my day

Listening to Nadéah and dancing around the house with a singing baby.

Nadéah's album cover.

Sunshine on my balcony.

My baby wearing colors.

My new gold braided belt.

Belt from Zara

Little bird...

Today was my baby's first day at the daycare center (crèche in French) - in fact we stayed just one hour and a half and I stayed the whole time -, I met the women who are going to take care of my baby there and saw how it will go. Everybody seems adorable and patient and with an obvious love for babies, which is very important to me. This is all new for me since my daughter didn't go to daycare center. I am happy to know he will make friends and get to have fun somewhere else than only at home with me, and see more of the world. Also, this way I can start working again. But still, I know it's going to be a big difference for him, to which he will have to adapt, and I want things to go well. He will only go four days a week and only until 3:30 or 4:00, so not the full day like many babies. Everybody says it's the best...


Like a little bird, I have to teach him how to fly. But deep inside it's not that easy... 

I feel so tired tonight...

7 months of joy

So this is my baby's 7 months anniversary today, and he slept most of the day, looking all tired and sick, waking up only to eat and play a little then going back to sleep in a minute. I wouldn't be surprised to see his first tooth showing up very soon...


Last night was his very first night in his little bedroom. Until yesterday, he was sleeping in ours - yes, I know - and then we decided it was time for him to sleep in his own room. Unfortunately, the babyphone got crazy and woke us up all night for no reason, except for the one time Swann woke up, since he doesn't seem to be able (or to want) to sleep the full night yet.


Last night our bedroom was different: the light was on, and the small crib was empty. I thought: What would I do without my baby? I felt a small twinge of sadness knowing he would not sleep with us anymore, but then I thought that babies have to grow and that it's good for all of us. My man worked late, so I started reading a book - which is something I hadn't done in ages - and I ate chocolate and peanuts in bed. This morning Swann was smiling like usual, and he had obvioulsy enjoyed his new bedroom.


Well, every month brings new steps in life... I am so happy to be a part of this and watch my baby grow. 

A little boy with a hat

This picture was taken this summer. My man and my son. 

I look at it and I can see my baby's ancestors.

The big smile on my man's face, like in the song.
The hat.


Yes I know, nothing happened like we had planned. But it took Swann to bring together Rudolf, the former slave from Alabama who had moved to Chicago, and Georges the painter from the South-West of France who used to wear a hat all the time. Swann's great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather. Both angels now. They came flying upon his shoulder that day to whisper at his ear that he will be a strong man.


And me, I made a wish.

Under my messy table

What's under my messy table?

Yes: my little man!


Starting the day listening to Michael Jackson's version of "You've got a friend", trying to follow my good resolution of the weekend: get rest RELAX.

I hope everybody has a great weekend!

Friday

It's Friday night and I am exhausted.

The weather keeps changing here in Paris and you never know what to expect for the next day.

I've been complaining all day about small things, which drives my man completely crazy and I can understand. I think I need to re-lax. RELAX. Looking back at my week, I feel that so many things have been going on. I just wish I could stop thinking for a moment, stop doing anything, and relax...

My messy table

First part of a series of pictures about my messy home, inspired by Kerry:


My messy table.


Yes, just as you can tell a lot of things about a woman by looking in her purse, you can see a lot about my life by looking at my table.

So let's see what we have here (from right to left, top to bottom)*:


- a stapler
- a business card
- a pile of papers
- a box of mints
- a credit card
- a stick of lipbalm
- a coin
- an I-Mac remote control
- a pink highlighter
- another box of mints
- stuff
- an empty bottle of handcream
- a cork from a bottle of cider
- catalogues
- a little bag in Japanese fabric with stuff in it
- a baby phone
- a yarn ball
- another business card
- wire cutters for my jewellery
- a pin cushion
- Liberty fabric clippings
- a sweater vest size 10 years old
- two rolls of paper towels 
- an organizer for my pearls
- two envelops
- scissors
- a Japanese paper mask
- file organizers
- another envelop
- another pile of stuff
- a DVD of Larry David, Curb your enthusiasm, season 4
- a baby body suit


* not everything belongs to me, as you may have guessed.




I'm not even going to mention the mess that's around the table.


So what does my messy table say?
That I'm running out of time for about everything? That we work at home? That we don't often eat on this table? That I'm trying to get to finish a piece of jewellery? That we've got kids? Euh... yes!

He loves me

First of all, welcome to my new followers! You should go and check their blogs, they really do great things that I'm glad I can share with you through my little space!


It's been a very busy time for me, as my baby started crawling (using his forearms to move, like at the army ha ha) I have to watch him non-stop and with my man working a lot, I'm on a "100%baby" kind of mode. Very tiring and I feel a little frustrated to not have time to do anything else, when I have so much inspiration...


Today is a special day for my man and I, as it is the anniversary of the beginning of our love.I can say, we've been through a lot of sh*t together and if anybody thinks that it's easy to build a new family with two broken hearts and kids on both sides, let me tell you that it's not. But we stood side by side and, despite the problems and frustrations, we hung on to our love and made it together. I just hope the next 5 years will be easier :)


More than the father of my baby, more than the step-father of my daughter, more than the father of my step-kids, he is my best friend, my partner, my favorite cook and a brilliant designer.  


I'll always remember our first moments, when we used to sit at my table in the morning and have a tea, talking and listening to Jill Scott.

So if our pockets weren't empty as a pack of cookies after snack, I would ask him to have dinner at the China tonight, which is next to our place. And in a dream world, I would buy him a beautiful vintage Louis Vuitton bag like this one (found here), because I know he loves them.

But instead I'll just play this song for him and call him my fiancé.

A little drawing told me...

I was cleaning one of my messy closets the other day and I found drawings that some of my former students had made of me, about a year and a half ago. They really made me laugh again and reminded me of the great moments I had spent with them: Yuya and Mizuho, Jung-Su, and all the others...


It's funny about drawings. How do you think people see you? 


Wouldn't it be fun to ask your closest friend, or your colleague, or neighbor to draw your portrait, just to see how they would portray you?

Drawing #1 by Yuya, 32 years-old, drawing #2 by Jung-Su, 13 years-old.


And what about the drawings that our children make of us? What do you think when they portray you without a mouth, or ears, or arms? And how does it make you feel when you have no smile on the drawing, or on the contrary a super big one? Drawings always say something and I just love to look at them.

A sad departure

Today, at 12:00, we were a few people in front of Elodie's building, standing there to support her and her grand-parents.


Today, at 12:30 precisely, two women came to take Elodie to her new family.


Today, at 12:45, Elodie walked away and we yelled at her: See you soon, Elodie! We love you!


Elodie was a big girl today. She shed a few tears, then took her little purple suitcase, hugged everybody and walked away. She turned around and waved to us, and she was smiling.


She had her school bag, a backpack and a little suitcase. That's all she took with her. She was wearing a necklace and a belt made with African shells. She told me they were lucky charms. She said she took all her lucky charms with her. I said: Then you're going to have a lot of luck, sweetheart. I put my hand on her cheek.


Today, I had locked my tears deep inside my heart. I stood there with no tears while everybody was crying. I thought Elodie would need someone with a smile and that's what I came there with. A smile that said: You're going to be ok.


Today, at 1:30, people were already gossiping about what had happened. I went back home and my little boy had just finished eating. I hugged him and smelled him. My mind was crowded with questions and sadness. My stomach was torn.


I keep telling myself that she's going to be ok. Deep inside me, there is a river of tears waiting to get out, getting my eyes wet. My heart is soaked with tears but I can't cry. I would like to, but I just can't. 

10 years ago

10 years ago, I was alone at home with my daughter. I was 26, she was 6 months-old. We were living in a tiny one-roomed apartment and I was doing my normal things, which consisted mainly in taking care of her, cooking and cleaning. Her father came back home and told me that there had been an attack in New York and he turned on the TV. 


These images didn't seem real. Something broke in my heart and the world had suddenly changed. It was a very weird feeling because there I was with my baby and all the joy and happiness that she brought me, and on the other hand the violence of this day, and the pain and anguish and terror that came with it.


20 years ago I was in New York City with my father for the very first time. I was 16. These are the only good memories I have of this sad and difficult period of my life. We went there just the two of us, lovers of New York and America, and we stayed at the Hotel Chelsea. My father had planned this trip with me for a long time, he had organized everything. He wanted me to know that he loved me and he wanted our relationship to get better. 
We went everywhere. Had lunch in Harlem. Crossed the Brooklyn Brigde at the end of the day to see the sunset over the bridge. Soho where I bought my red Reebok sneakers and hip hop earings. The Village. The 5th Avenue. I remember the 1-dollar hotdogs that we used to buy for lunch. My father had bought a minitape recoder to record our trip, we didn't have fancy cameras or i-phones at that time. I was listening to Roberta Flack on my walkman. I remember Kevon who I made friend with. He was a black guy from the Bronx who was working in our hotel. 
When I came back home, the little village where we were living was too small for me and I couldn't get out of my bedroom and my dreams. We came back to our problems at home, the arguments and misunderstanding. But I will never forget this trip with my father, and will always cherish these moments as one of the best times in my life.


Today I've got New York on my mind. My heart is sad ang goes to all the people who suffered from 9.11.01, and I want to believe that the world will get better and that out of the pain come the best things...

My father, in Manhattan, 20 years ago...

I love vintage/Paris: the flea market

Today while my mother was taking care of the kids, me and my man went to the flea market at Porte de Clignancourt. It's a very dusty and wild place in the north of Paris where you can find antique furniture, vintage clothes and toys and jewellery, along with cheap "trendy-wanna-be" clothes made in China (very bad quality and often very bad taste if you ask me, but...).


It was a great moment together, a great way to get my mind off of the worries of the last days, and I got a lot of inspiration for my jewellery. I haven't had time to create anything since August and I am dying to make new pieces. Hopefully I'll have more time in the next weeks...

All pictures courtesy of my man, who I love love love. 

pearls pearls pearls and stuff... 

I fell in love with these flowers, I want to use them to make rings...

A journey back to my childhood when we used to get these advertising key-rings for free in the packages of food or detergent...

Keep searching...

These were so funny and cute... 

Back to my childhood again: Bécassine (but I used to hate her even though my grand-mother Mamimoune was fond of her...)

This dollhouse was so pretty...

and we fell in love with this dark grey wall and the beautiful fabric iris... 

So inspiring... Now all I need is time to create new things...

To Elodie...

Elodie is 10. I've known her for 7 years, since she's been my daughter's school mate ever since they started pre-school together. She's come to our house and my daughter has come to hers several times.


Elodie is an adorable little girl. She's got short hair and a cute baby face. She likes Barbies and Petshops, and taking dance class.


I've never met her parents. I only know her grand-parents who have been raising her since she was 11 months-old, along with her bigger brother and sister.


I've chatted with Elodie's grand-mother in front of the school every day. She's been there at every single school party, theater play, karate demonstration, parents' meeting. She is one of the most involved parents I've ever seen.


Yesterday morning, Elodie and her grand-parents learnt that was going to be sent to a foster family (une famille d'accueil), away from her grand-parents, away from her brother and her sister, away from Paris and her friends, closer to where her mother lives even though she barely knows her. This is what a judge decided without even meeting her grand-parents, without even asking Elodie how she felt. When she tried to say that she didn't want to leave, they told her that it was decided this way and that she has to accept  it. She has to leave on Monday. No one knows when she will be able to come back to visit her grand-parents.


Today was her last day at school. Today was the only day she had to get ready to leave, to spend time with her friends and say goodbye. 


She doesn't know the name of the family she is going to live with, neither do her grand-parents. They have no number, they never met these people, they won't even be able to take her there.


I can't stop thinking about her. I cried when shopping at the supermarket this morning while they were playing this song. I am in shock and I can't believe this is happening. In my country. In 2011. After decades of child psychology, after Françoise Dolto and her principles, and all the mountains of books that have been published about how you should always explain things to children, and how they should always be respected and heard.


My daughter wrote Elodie a little letter saying that everybody was sad that she was leaving. She said that she hopes she will have fun with her new parents, and that she hopes she will see her again. At 4:30, when the kids came out of school, everybody was crying, children, mothers, people from the school. Tears falling down Elodie's baby cheeks and I know I will never forget this moment.


And as I was turning around to go back home, after saying goodbye, we're with you, we won't let you down, we'll do all we can to have you back, you'll be alright, you're going to be a big girl and you'll be alright, as I was holding my baby who was crying too, I walked away and thought What a fucked up world. 


On Monday night, Elodie will sleep in an unknown bed, in an unknown house, with an unknown family. I'm going to pray for her, pray that she'll be strong to get over it and make new friends at school and have a great teacher and people around to care for her. I'm going to keep Elodie in my heart and hope she will be alright, no matter what happens.


What a fucked up world.

A day with my little boy

While everybody was at school or at work, me and my little boy went out.

We stopped to watch guys working on a building, hear the big sounds, and see the crane moving high in the sky, following the movement of the grey clouds...

We stopped to watch pigeons eat and fly away...

took a little time to look at the boats, at the Port de l'Arsenal, until it started to rain...

so we sheltered from the rain under a bridge...

used a summer hat as a rain hat, and read a little book...

then we sat down under a boat in the playground...

and discovered new things...

and then the sun came back, and it was time to go back home.