I’m all in a turmoil today.
Mr Frog has now departed and is chaperoning my long lost Tadpole back to Paris tomorrow afternoon. In fact he’ll be seeing her in a couple of hours and will be able to cover her soft red cheeks with a multitude of tiny kisses while I sit typing in my office trying (no doubt unsuccessfully) not to feel insanely jealous.
It has been rather odd her being away for so long. I have coped by kind of “switching off”, winding the clocks back twenty months or so to a time when I wasn’t yet a mother. I’m sure I will think that she has changed and grown up beyond belief when I see her again. A whole host of new words will greet me. I will have missed important things, like her building her first snowman. Apparently she has a new pair of fur-lined boots that grandma bought. She is so fond of them that she refuses to take them off at bedtime. I hope they are not too hideous, but nevertheless fear the worst as belle mère and I do not exactly see eye to eye on questions of infant fashion.
The last time I phoned, Tadpole refused to talk at all, handing the receiver back to mamie with a brusque “C’est fini!”. I know I shouldn’t read anything into this, as toddlers are anything but predictable, logical beings, but all the same it was a bit of a slap in the face. Her voice sounded so distant and so, well, French I suppose. I’m looking forward to our trip to the UK at Easter to redress the language balance with a liberal dose of Yorkshire.
But before I get to the tearful reunion at the Gare de Lyon, my stomach is all a-flutter about the fact that I’m meeting all these expat blogger strangers in a bar at 7 pm tonight.
kim francophony | nardac holy smokes | la coquette | vivi dispatches | katia aussielass | sarah wooden | clotilde chocolate & zucchini | aimee flare | sierra le oli | lauren 35 | oiseau anglais | iain baseball diaries | jonathan powerfactory | auntie m | pat zraidi | aru | antipo déesse | tami
Who would have thought that there were so many of us, or that some souls would be willing to hop on a TGV to come and meet up. Oh lord, I hope the bar is okay… I hope everyone gets on. I only facilitated the whole thing, like a kind of expat friendship matchmaking service (maybe I should go into business?), but I do feel a teensy bit responsible for the outcome.
And I have no idea what to wear. How I want to be perceived. That sort of highly superficial thing that shouldn’t be important, but IS.
Does my bum look big in this?