We always have busy week ends because staying in the house is barely an option with 3 hyper active tots and 1 ‘cannot stay inside’ husband. There is this underlying fear that if we don’t do anything we may really kill each other. It is a little bit like a retired couple whose kids are off to college and start crazy bunny booking all these AirBnB places all over the world to avoid getting a divorce.
‘Me on my own’ weekends would look like this: sweatpants, slippers, comfort food, TV shows marathon (I would watch anything, absolutely anything… I once got addicted to a girly teen show titled ‘Make It of Break It’, I am such a LOSER), wine, and planning (but failing) to wax.
But this weekend, we actually had no plans. Absolutely none. Or so I thought…
Saturday: Black is Beautiful.
Breakfast and lunch: no recollection of what we ate. We are now eating all together at week ends and to be honest it looks more like: kids drop-eating, mama swallow-eating and papa scream-eating. People write books and articles about French families taking their time to eat together while calmly talking about Ebola or Bernard Henry Levy…yeah right, not fucking happening in my house.
Time I took my shower: 1pm; which is so ghetto since we did actually have something we had to go to. How could I forget about P’s first class play date??? Some parents had organized a gathering in Central Park to get to know each other outside the stressful morning school drop also known as ‘please don’t talk to me cause I haven’t brushed my teeth yet’ awkward morning meeting.
It was great to see all the kiddos play together and actually see that P knew their names. It is impossible to have any idea of what is happening at school because every question we ask my ‘usually cannot shut her mouth’ daughter is answered by a ‘No’:
‘Do you have friends? No.
Did you enjoy your soccer class? No
Did you play soccer? No.
What songs did you learn? No.’
It got so bad that I seriously started to think that the whole school, after school and extra curricular activities were a big Ponzi scheme because:
‘What do you in school then? Sleep, go to the restrooms and eat.’ Okayyyyy then…..
The plot thickened when many parents shared similar intel. Everyone laughed it out ‘Ha ha these kids are nuts’ but I could feel it, I could see it…Some of us were getting the Carrie Mathison crazy/million of thoughts look ‘Oh my god, what if it was not a school but a cult?’ Mouaaaaa.
After running 20 blocks after my kids on their scooters, I looked at DH and silently implored ‘let’s get a beer at our local’. Two hours later, we are barging with 3 tots wearing scooter helmets into the anniversary of Bebe noir, a clothing retail store, where African beats are blasting and gorgeous shop assistants are showing us their new collection. P is busting some devil moves on the dance floor, G is ransacking the clothing racks and stealing a blue nail varnish and L…well he has decided to peek into the fitting rooms…Initial high pitch screaming was then followed by a huge ‘Awwwwww’ followed by L finding firm breasts to rest his head on for the rest of the evening.
Let’s be clear here. I keep telling people that L is not as social as his siblings and very clingy with his mom. Obviously if you do look like Rihanna, he’ll pretend he has no mother nor father. Poor little orphan. Come to think about it, I should ditch his ass in this store each time I need to do grocery shopping on the other side of the road. I am SO doing this.
Can I also say that 3 little helmets running around women with long legs in high heels is very stressful??? I kept thinking: bowling, strike, …oh shit!!! I did have 2 pints of beer…I know.
Time we all went to bed: 11pm
Sunday: Nikita, I will never be.
DH got a nasty bug so Black Ops today is Me on My Fucking Own. OK, he did set up a CIA assets bootcamp in our courtyard using all the tents, tunnels, outdoor tricks we have before signing off for the day…but still. It was a lonely, very lonely mission.
DRONES. EXPLOSION. NO EXTRACTION.
What did I do? I stared at my legs for a long time thinking shit like:
‘I will never buy again from H & M because the sweat pants I got last month were basically disintegrating in front of me (and last time I checked I do not have freaking invisible lazer beam mutant eyes!). ‘
‘How long will L keep this fake tattoo on his arm? It’s been 2 weeks. Freaking ridiculous.’
‘Who sings that song I have been obsessing about on Spotify? No, no, I cannot ask anyone about it because my taste in music is shitty at best. It is so embarrassing how shitty it is.’
‘I am addicted to Instagram.’
‘Why am I wearing Penelope’s Halloween golden tiara?’
‘I wonder what BP (Business Partner) is doing now in Joshua Tree Park?’
It got really scary when after an hour, I started to have the same thought popping back in an angrier mode like: ‘I am never fucking buying SHIT again from H &M!!!’
Yeah, could never be a spy. Would NEVER pass the solitary confinement test.
Oh also… time I took my shower: N/A.
Have a great week everyone!!!
Some random pics from my weekend…
After 5 minutes looking at a dress I have owned for 20 years but haven’t worn in a long time, I decided to take that old rag out for a walk. 20 years…I am lucky that back then I was not so much into tight fitting otherwise even 3 SPANX body shapers on top of each other would not have been able to help me get into the dress. I remembered buying this chiffon dress at a Le Chateau shop, in Toronto (Canada). It was expensive for me but I had managed to save just enough of the little pocket money my parents gave me for my first trip outside Europe to buy that Boho dress (of course 20 years ago, Boho was not a style but someone misspelling the then low profile U2’s lead singer). I remembered that summer very well, listening and dreaming on songs by Christopher Cross. Odd to think that I was day dreaming as a teenage girl listening to a guy who looked like this, a far cry from The Bieb or the dandies of One Direction…
To accessorize the dress, I chose phosphorescent colors (nudge to the 80s atrocious fluorescent clothing trend in Europe which should be buried forever…I am serious; upcoming fashion designers out there DO NEVER BRING THIS BACK): fuchsia belt from H&M, lime green bangle from a African style clothing store in Harlem, Bebe Noir (they have pretty fierce accessories), and sandals by George Rech.
PS: I am glad my work meeting was via Skype because my belt just snapped out almost hitting me in the eye.
PS2: I checked the belt and it is not defective. The sad truth is: pre children belts should probably hit the trash can. Noooooooo!!!!!!