A confession, and other little revelations...

I had to remind myself of the reason for this incarnation of my blog. I started it originally as a sort of stream of consciousness, but I soon lost interest in that. I posted a few things that were, for my peace of mind, better left unposted, and I deleted them. There are those who would, perhaps, decry this, but my blog, my rules, right? (I've learned since to leave things in draft form, or just grump about them verbally to my husband, mother, or best friend(s).) Planning for our sojourn in France then kicked up another notch, and I had my AH-HA! moment. (I can't call it an epiphany, blogging is just not that profound for me! LOL!!) I am not the type to scrapbook life neatly into a photo album - I would buy all the supplies, then leave it in a corner for several years until the little bits and funny stories were all but forgotten. But, I can't (never could) stay away from a computer. Hence, the return and revision of my blog.

I decided to chronicle our trip on this, my once abandoned blog. I would share with family and friends our planning, our travels, our adventure, our long worked for dream-come-true, as we experienced it. And as I browsed the past entries, I realised how much of this adventure I am neglecting to share, and thus chance forgetting. The emotion, the funny kids trying to roll their Rs, and other miscellany. I must not remember to write the heartbeat of our adventure down.

My younger son, my Riley, has been telling hairdressers for almost two years now as he gets his hair cut that he's going to France. They used to smile and nod, and ask his three year old self if he was getting his hair cut for the vacation to France, and he'd look at them, confused. No, he'd say with big eyes and a confused look, I'm going when I turn FIVE! Then, after his fifth birthday a few months ago, it took a lot of convincing for him to believe that we weren't packing up the next day to go! He has been excited for a while to start Kindergarten in France. He was also more excited about going to France after watching the Disney movie Ratatouille, and all that talk about wonderful food. (He was easily dissuaded from believing in talking, cooking rats... shudder!)

We've been talking about this trip with our older son, Carson, for a long, long time, as well. This is the child that took two years to get used to the idea of going to school regularly when he was younger. (Slow at transitions, he was, indeed! He is MUCH better with them now!) He is excited about starting Grade 2 in France, but he also knows and understands enough to be a bit scared of the idea, as well. When we showed him the website of the school they will be attending during our stay, his face morphed rapidly and amusingly from an awed and excited smile, to a scared little chin wobble, and back again. He relaxed when I shared with him that it was perfectly normal to feel both scared and excited. He is in the excited camp right now for our adventure, but I'm not sure what the end of the first day at school will wring from him in the way of crazy emotions.

My Lloyd is beyond delirious that the time is here. Planning, shmanning... the big things have been taken care of! Finished work & started Leave - CHECK!! Finances in order, kinda - check! Place leased in France - check! Boys enrolled in school - check! Plane tickets - check! Vehicle lease & rental sorted - check! Pets kennelled - check! House almost rented - whatever!! We're going to France! Whatever we forget to pack, we'll buy when we get there!! (This from the man who usually hates the idea of shopping!) It is charming to watch this normally non effusive man get a little bit giddy while talking about this adventure.

Lloyd has been reading more and more to the children in French (he is fluent), and using more and more phrases around the house when conversing with the children. He holds regular conversations in French with Carson (who has just finished Grade 1, French Immersion.) But what is really funny is listening to the children say their names "in French". Carson advised us one day about a year ago, after one of his regular Spanish classes, that he knows how to say his name in French, English, and Spanish! In English, it's about what you would expect to hear. In French, the emphasis is on the second syllable, kar s[]'. And in Spanish, he is kar SONNE! (Forgive the crude, and inconsistent phonetic spellings...) Riley, is rrrrrRi LEE!! And Margo (yes, we anglicised the spelling... I wanted Margaux, but thought the potential for misspelling and mispronunciation in our geographic location was too high), at not quite two and a half, spits out Mar-de-GO! She hears that she is not saying it quite correctly, but can't quite make it sound the way it should. So, every now and then, she walks around practicing "Mar-de-GO! MAR-de-go. Mar-de-GO!!" I giggle hugely every time I hear them all practicing their names "in French".

And I? Am excited, eager to learn how to speak French (I can read and write it to a small degree of functionality), and will be delighted to see the architecture, eat the food, drink the wine, and live a different sort of life with my family. My biggest fear? is that I will refuse to come back to Saskatchewan, or at least refuse to put much effort into reintegrating with my community when we do return. You see, when I left Paris after a two week school trip when I was sixteen, I vowed to return to France. I fell in love with her, particularly Paris. Imagine, a naive, shy, totally untraveled girl of sixteen, from a small, isolated farm, 13 miles outside of a town of only 1000, flying into Paris, and while walking her streets, feeling like a piece of her had finally (FINALLY) found home. This same girl on her honeymoon in Paris, Amboise, and Annecy, felt the same again. Now imagine this girl many years later, living in France for seven months, and having to leave... My heart already is breaking a little bit for her. My mother (who is phobic about flying, has not and will never get on a plane) is convinced that we will never move back to Canada permanently after this trip. And I can't quite bring myself to muster up the passion and conviction to lay those fears of hers to rest completely...