Burst of Energy

I've heard it said that most women get a sudden burst of energy when they're in their second trimester of pregnancy. I don't particularly remember this being true with Alina, but it seems to be true now. Or, at least, after 3 1/2 months of extreme lethargy, maybe I've just returned back to normal. Either way, it seems like a burst of energy by comparison. So, dear friends, here is a picture of our Thanksgiving dinner:

Notice the turkey thighs on the bed of stuffing, the green beans made with real French fried onions and an improvised Campbell's soup substitute, the cranberry sauce (note to self: buy cranberry sauce the next time you're in America), and the (not-homemade) bread. I can almost hear my dad shrieking in horror, "What, no mashed potatoes?" Well, it's true we had no mashed potatoes. Maybe my enthusiasm didn't go quite that far, or maybe it was the reality that there WERE only going to be 3 of us eating, and I couldn't get Alina to eat any of it until the second time around. Speaking of Alina, here are her an her papa getting ready to eat aforementioned Thanksgiving meal:

Here is the Advent wreath I just made. It's Fimo, plus a wire frame, plus live holly we went and (probably illegally) cut from the bush in the park. I was pretty proud of it.

And here is Alina helping me decorate our Christmas tree! Why is our Christmas tree up so early? you ask. Well, because later this week I'd like to bake Christmas cookies, and the next 2 weekends, we're going to be busy with some extra church activites. Now just seemed like it was time.

I'll spare you the picture of the fingerpuppet cat I made for Alina, but it's pretty cute. Now, if only this energy could transform itself somehow into a cleaner house!

Ecofeminism

Recently, the French magazine Marianne had an article entitled, "Quand l'écologie renvoie les femmes à la maison" or, if you prefer, "When ecologie sends women back to the home." Thomas actually started reading the article first, and then brought it to me and said, "Here, read this sentence:"

On se met à faire son pain soi-même, on bat le linge avec des noix de lavage (à l'efficacité proche de zéro.) Certaine adoptent la moon cup... They start baking their own bread, they wash their clothes with soapnuts (with an efficiency of almost zero). Some of them start using a moon cup...

We looked at each other an laughed. You see, I bake our bread, we've used soapnuts in the past, I'm an ardent fan of the mooncup... I was intrigued to read the whole article later. The gist of it is this:

The author rejoices that questions of ecology are affecting our everyday decisions more and more. However, she (because it's written by a woman) expresses alarm that on a practical level, this trend touches mostly women, and that the result often is that women are abandoning the workplace. It's true that if you're going to (gasp) breastfeed and (ugh) use washable diapers and (the horror) bake your own bread, you don't really have time to have a full-time job on top of that. The author qualifies this as a "return to the Stone Age", saying that we younger women are adopting practices that our mothers and grandmothers were more than happy to leave behind with the invention of disposable diapers, powdered infant formula, etc.

It's funny because Marianne is a left-leaning magazine, politically and socially speaking. And in France, the trend described is most common among left-leaning people. The magazine is adressing a trend within its own camp, not pointing fingers at something outside its own sphere. This is different from in the States. When I think of breastfeeding and cloth diapers, I picture a group of good conservative Christian women gathered for prayer, coffee, and a coupon exchange. Oh, I guess the good Mormon women do that, too. Here, that's often not the case. The moms I find with whom I can compare cloth diaper styles often have radically different ideas than I do on certain social issues.

I think that the author makes 3 erroneous assumptions. First, she seems to believe that any woman in her right might will and should feel more fulfilled in the workplace than at home. Faced with these women who choose otherwise, she is forced either to blame the workplace (women still are denied the best jobs) or to look for a psychological reason to explain this behavior. And she quotes psychologist after psychologist who talk about an idealization of the natural state, rebellion against how they were raised by their own mothers, and so forth and so on.

Second, she paints a black-and-white picture where, one generation ago, every woman went joyfully off to work every day thanking her lucky stars for the invention of powdered formula, disposable diapers, and babysitters that allow her to do so. This picture may have been more true in France than in the States (France has historically the lowest rate of brestfeeding in the world, for example), but even here the situation is not so clear-cut. I for one, having been breastfed and having worn cloth diapers (not that I remember), find myself much more with a desire to copy my own mother. I'm sure a those same psychologists could have a heyday with that, too.

Third, and perhaps equal in importance to the first assumption, is the idea that any marriage will probably end in divorce. She decries a woman putting herself in a financially dependant situation, reasoning that she at all times needs to be preparing to find herself alone. In other words, she must always be preparing her own divorce. I guess that that mentality is among the best ways to assure that your marriage WILL end in a divorce.

What's more, the author seems convinced by an economic model where I MUST work to pay for the diapers I don't have time to wash, the milk I don't have time to give, and the bread I don't have time to bake. I'm sorry, but there have always been women who are not convinced by this and there always will be.

Thomas is planning on writing a letter to the editor that will begin, "I confess, I am a jerk." Because he's obviously trodding in my rights and oppressing me.

I guess I'll sign of with this thought: "Help, I'm being oppressed!"

Prayer and Praise

Thomas has received and accepted the call to pastor or local church. He will be ordained on January 11.

Super Mom

It was sunny this afternoon, so I took Alina to the playground. Being Super Mom, and anticipating that the grass might be wet, I stuck her rain boots in the stroller. When we got there and I saw the puddles under the swings, I put her boots on and rolled her pantlegs up a bit, secure in the knowledge that my little girl was now set to play to her heart's content without getting wet. She slides down the slide once, then heads to the swings. I help her sit on the swing, being careful not to get MY feet wet (her feet being, of course, amply protected.) I give her a little nudge, then settle down on the other swing as we always do. After a few minutes, Alina decides to get off. Now, usually, I help her off if I can, but she's gotten off the swing before by herself and has NEVER had a problem. Until now. She gets off, and her little feet hit the ground...er...puddle while the swing itself is on the back-swing. Having not completely let go, she is pulled backward, and the next thing I know, she is laying on her back in 3 inches of water.

So much for my motherly foresight.

We had to run home so I could change her before she could catch cold. Again. (And, if you think pushing a stroller uphill in a hurry when you're four months pregnant is fun, you need to reconsider your definition of fun.)

Election

I would like to write you a nice, lengthy, in-depth post about what an American election looks like to someone living outside of America, and more specifically in France. However, honestly I don't have the time or the energy right now. Or maybe I'm just lazy.

Anyway, my good friend Mentanna, who I've already mentioned in this post, did write a post about the election that I find pretty well describes the feelings that our election and its outcome inspired over here. So, if you're interested, here is her post. Happy reading, and, thanks, Mentanna, for saying the things I don't have time to say!

Baby #2: First Pictures

I hesitated on a caption for this one, so you can take you pick, either:

I'm a lumberjack, and I'm OK, or

Beverly Hillbillies, here I come!

Seriously, here is my solution to the fact that I can find no maternity clothes to fit me. One pair of suspenders and, voilà, any pair of pants that would normally be too big becomes a pair of maternity pants. Don't worry, I did NOT go out in public like this. I had a nice warm sweater over the top of everything and actually, I looked pretty cute. At least, Thomas says so.

Here's the side view. This was at about 3 1/2 months. I know, I know, my hand is kind of in the way.

This one's just a freebie. Fortunately, we spent the extra euro or two to get Alina the super-washable Crayola kids' markers. One or two swipes of the washrag, and our warpaint was a thing of the past.

At the Park

What a cutie, huh?