We didn't pay no stinkin' taxes!

I've tried to get Eric enrolled in the crèche (daycare) but unlike America you can't just roll up and sign up. I gave up a while ago and just decided to focus on nannies because it was just too complicated to even get on the waiting list.

First you have to have a lease that is an original, not a print out. Well, if you completed your lease internationally it's tough to have any original. This is 2012 people.

Then you have to have an electricity bill. Those things are solid gold over here. I don't really know why they love them so much.

Then you need pay stubs. OK, I can sorta understand that one, though in America we'd say that you only need to provide them if you're looking to get a subsidized spot.

There are a bunch of random other things I've forgotten but the one we were laughing about tonight was their requirement of your last tax statement. Ours was, of course, filed in the USA. They don't want that one, so what they want us to do is go to the Trésorie and get a statement that because we were not living in France last year we didn't pay taxes in France last year. Daddy was suggesting that we could get a bunch of other statements too, just for the fun of it. We were also not living in Chile, Sweden, Latvia, and Kenya last year. We could just make ourselves a new hobby of collecting statements from foreign governments which assert that because we had nothing to do with them during the calendar year we paid no taxes there.

THAT would make a dossier that would impress even the crèche lady!

We Are Official!

After a day spent at OFII we are now in possession of our Titres de Sejours. If it had been a slightly less painful experience I'd even be ready to celebrate! We did walk ourselves home from Bastille like this American Mom in Paris. There are a few things to celebrate - my French is good enough that they waived the required French language course and also the all-day "Life in France" class, which had me laughing because it is intended to teach us things like how to find housing. There were 40 people in the room, what do they think we've been doing for the last 4 months, sleeping in the street?

There was a problem because, while I had Eric with me for the first check-in lady, Daddy was giving him food while I checked in with the second check-in lady so she did not mark "Prioritaire" next to my name. I was the last of the 40 people to check in. I waited all afternoon for my private interview and Eric got pretty fidgety (though of the three of us by the end of the day he won the prize for best-behaved). Finally one of the medical staff noticed that we were still waiting at 4:10pm and the office closes at 5pm. She raised hell to get me seen, which caused my caseworker to cry and tell me that it was all my fault, that she's never had a problem with that colleague before, etc. It was pretty bad.

But in the end all that time waiting worked out for us because Daddy had to go back to the Tabac several times to get all the stamps we needed. In the end we had to pay over $1000 in lick-and-stick stamps for these Titre de Sejour cards. Turns out the big Prefecture where everyone has to go is completely incompetent and, among the other problems, quoted us the rate for a Titre renewal, not a first application. It counts as a first application every time you let your previous Titre lapse, so even though Daddy had done this before, and gotten the chest x-ray before, if you let it lapse you have to start again from zero. One thing we're sure of, that's our last state-mandated chest x-ray! Daddy asked what they're looking for, it's TB, enormous lung cancers, and to confirm we have hearts. Seriously, that's what he said. Anyway, the lady at the register takes our $1000 in simple individual stamps, sticks them on an index card, runs her pen in squiggly lines all over them and gives us our cartes de sejours. These cartes are seriously like 1980s driver's licenses - low res black and white photograph, hand laminated, etc.

Now we get to start on the process for Eric! Yippee!

The Power of a Brand

So "Big-E Smalls" has been sick a lot lately (I know it's normal but I'm not used to it yet). Anyway, over here for fever they give paracetamol. It's funny but because my mother gave me Children's Tylenol when I was sick now even the packaging is now comforting to me. Over here they give some kind of suspect "paracetamol" stuff, and I swallowed hard and allowed them to dose my precious baby with their mystery syrup. I wanted to know how it is different and the answer is NOT AT ALL! As the wikipedia page cites:

The words acetaminophen (used in the United States, Canada, Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Iran) and paracetamol (used elsewhere) both come from a chemical name for the compound: para-acetylaminophenol and para-acetylaminophenol.

 One less thing to worry about!

Art Gallery for Children

They say there is everything in Paris, and it's true. My friend Juliette pointed me to an art gallery for children that also has events like singing and storytime. It's called La Maison des Contes and we'll be headed over there, near the Hotel de Ville, soon. I'll update with a review once we've checked it out!

Baby's on the Move

We went to the Orangerie to see Monet's Waterlilies. It was fun to see Eric awake from his nap, look around, look again, and "get it". He really enjoyed it there, and when we put him down to walk around he raced around the room thrilled with what he saw.

OK, so it's a Clementine and not an Orange, but Eric's taken to eating them like apples, skin and all, so I thought that was cute enough to include a photo here.

He's been motoring around a lot more. We went to English playgroup and he was all over the place. Twice he was purposefully heading out of the room and I called out to him and he stopped. I asked him to come back in and he did. I was so surprised that 1) he understood me and 2) that he complied! Who knew I had that kind of power?

Louvre!

We had our first family night at the Louvre last night. It was good fun. Eric slept for the first bit, which was good because it was a bizarre exposition by J. M. G. Le Clézio. We couldn't find a major theme to the exhibit and I'm gratified to learn that there was none, it was intended to be a throwback to the 'cabinet of curiosities'.

When we got upstairs to the French paintings there was a concert going on. It was an amazing soprano accompanied by a single guitar. I'm not one for opera-style music in general, but this was magical. She saw Eric and smiled and sang for him... he had awoken and couldn't take his eyes off her. Daddy and I settled in on a bench and enjoyed the rest of her singing. It appears that others were waiting for a turn, or perhaps they'd already performed. We moved on to the next gallery when this lady and her guitarist had finished their set.

In the next galleries Eric was enthralled by Tête de Lionne, laughing out loud several times while we were looking at it together. Then he wanted to walk. And walk. And walk. Good thing is, at the Louvre that's no problem! Mommy and Daddy eventually got tired so we let him just flop on the floor and pull himself up on the guard rails. That's when things got funny because some tourists thought he was more fun than the French Paintings and they started playing with him, taking his picture, etc. Eric had no fear whatsoever and was happy to have these strange women play with him and help him stand.

After our time at the museum we walked over to Pompidou to a creperie we like. It's simple and easy and child-friendly (though they don't have high chairs, no one does). Daddy got the menu with a crepe complet and a sugar crepe. I got the Brestoise, which had cheese, mushrooms, potatoes, tomatoes, etc. in it.

Then, thrill of all thrills, Daddy walked Eric home and let me take a Velib'! Oh it was glorious floating through Paris with the wind in my hair! I'm a mommy now, about to turn 35, but riding along alone some teenage boys called out to me from their car. This old lady was secretly thrilled...

It was a nice evening!

Getting Our Bearings

We haven't written much because we're still just getting our bearings. Saturday Eric and I went to sleep at 6PM and slept straight through to 8AM! We awoke feeling like new people, but new people who still need a lot more sleep...

We finally have a bank account. Daddy went back to the bank with a real electric company statement saying we live at our address and have an account with them but since we just arrived they have not yet sent us a bill for the electricity we're just beginning to use. The electric company assured us that this was the legal equivalent of a bill. The bank said that isn't good enough, so in anger Daddy left and went next door to the luxury bank. We will pay 8 Euro a month to have an account but at least we'll have an account. He was sorry because he wanted to patronize the bank that sponsors the Tour de France but they just made it too hard on us.

Eric now has a nanny. She comes to the house, to make life easier for him, and they are getting to know each other this week. It's wonderful watching him watch her speak French, it's as if you see the wheels turning in his head. He's having a hard time adjusting to the time, the place, and the language, so I'm glad we're not adding another new place to all of this. Learning about childcare in France has been interesting. She will be declared, and that costs more (6 weeks paid vacation each year!) but we get 40-50% (reports differ) of her salary back as cash, and the rest is tax deductible. There is no need to plan ahead and create a flexible spending account or anything like that. It's just there for the asking.

On Monday we went to an expat playgroup I found through Message Paris. This is specifically a group for babies his age in our neighborhood. They defined parallel play, but all the same I felt that Eric was relieved to know that there were other English-speaking babies his age right down the street. We'll make a point of going every chance we get. They also helped me orient to the various opportunities here. It seems the most popular venue for outings with babies it the Aquarium, just across from the Eiffel Tower at Trocadéro.

Eric is practicing his French

OK, I am posting this photo because I know this entry isn't all that interesting. I hope to have a more exciting update soon!

Settling In

Photo taken as I composed this post, awkward framing to include both the view over Paris and draft post.

We are FINALLY in our apartment, and I can breathe easily again. What a long journey it was. Looking out my window from my desk here I see the rooftops of Paris and I think that with another week or two of sleep I'll start to think that all of this was worth it.

Eric has been a trouper through the whole ordeal. Yesterday he officially started really crawling, coordinated, on all fours. Perhaps he's been wanting to do that for a while and we were just moving too much for him to practice? Or perhaps he somehow knew that now he gets to finally be a baby? Either way he's everywhere now, exploring the world of this apartment. I am so happy knowing that he can, and safely.

It is a little thing, but now we have a washing machine in the apartment I can finally really use my stash of gDiapers. We brought ours over from the States, but the same idea is available in France as Hamac (but like everything, more expensive). I particularly like that we mostly just wash the cloth insert, not the entire cloth diaper. They dry, with the rest of our laundry, on the towel racks in the bathroom and kitchen. I feel so much more ecological not hauling home disposable diapers so often. Eric is off with Daddy to tour Champagne houses with Daddy and Daddy's friends today, so he's wearing disposables. We are not crazy! But while Eric's feet are getting bigger, his footprint just got a bit smaller.

On the other side, we're still trying to get a bank account. Daddy's got direct deposit from his work going there, and they have his first paycheck, so we can't just give up in frustration and walk away. Basically they keep demanding new paperwork and then waiting weeks to declare it isn't good enough. Daddy says he can see that they physically possess our Carte Bleue cards, but will not turn them over until he produces a power bill with our names on it. While frustrations with that tempted us to do something with Photoshop, in the end we were able to get a bill and he went to finally get our cards and access to the money, but guess what? January 9th is a bank holiday. We tried to work out what they were celebrating, Google tells me that "The Tokyo Stock Exchange is shut on Monday for the Coming of Age Day public holiday" or it is possible they are celebrating with the Philippines "The Feast of the Black Nazarene"? Oh well, we'll try again tomorrow.

A much more minor note but one I want to remember - why does French laundry detergent have so much fragrance? I've tried three varieties now (none that I've bought myself) and all are very heavily perfumed. I need to find some fragrance-free detergent somewhere.

To celebrate finally settling in, last night we had a goat cheese, pine nut, and fresh basil tourte, and crepes with homemade plum jam (a Christmas gift from our UK trip, thanks Avril!) and coconut yogurt. It was a celebration indeed. The recipe for the tourte is in French, and is from before I started keeping track of where I got them so I can't give it proper attribution (Elle À Table?). But here it is:

Tourte au chevrotin, au basilic, et aux pignons
4 pers.
Préparation: 20 minutes
Cuisson: 40 minutes

2 ouefs + 3 jaunes
10cl de lait entier
10cl de crème fraîche fluide
350g de chevrotin à 45% de MG
80g de pignons
12 feuilles de basilic (though I add more and have yet to find an upper limit)
Noix de muscade moulue (ideally fresh grated)
350g de pâte brisée
20g de beurre (forgot this last night, no problem)
Sel, poivre

Accord: Côtes-de-Provence rosé, servi de 8 à 10°C. (we had a nice white, it was good too)

Battre au fouet 2 oeufs et 2 jaunes avec le lait et la crème fraîche. Ajouter le fromage émietté, les pignons, et les feuilles de basilic finement ciselées.
Assaisonner de sel, de poivre, et de muscade.
Beurrer un moule à tourte. Étendre les deux tiers de la pâte et la disposer au fond du moule. Y verser la préparation au chevrotin et couvrir avec la reste de pâte. Dorer avec le jaune d'oeuf.
Entailler une petite ouverture au centre de la tourte puis enfourner à 180°C (th6) pour 40 minutes de cuisson.

Face my fears the very first day

I had two fears about moving my baby to Paris:

1) finding adequate medical care
2) that he might fall out of one of the large open windows

We can check number one off the list. Nothing like facing one's fears the very first day!

Probably due to jet lag, or in retrospect because he was sick, Eric had a hard time settling down for his first night in Paris. Eventually I swaddled him so that we all could get some sleep. That always works like a charm, sending him off to dreamland with a smile.

In the morning I woke to find him very hot. Very very very hot. I immediately un-swaddled him and tried to help him cool off. While I am still nursing I knew that the move would be too overwhelming for that so we have some formula. We agreed to go to the bar next door, use their bathroom, have our breakfast croissant, and give Eric some cool formula to try to cool him down. He sucked down that bottle like I've never seen before. I started to relax until he threw it up faster still. Ugh. So here I am in a Parisian café with a sick baby and a pool of vomit - so much for a new, glamorous life!

I asked the bartender for some napkins, which he was reluctant to just hand over to me. They were nice paper napkins, maybe they are really expensive? I think we were both confused by each other. I started mopping up the mess when he saw what I was doing and came over to take care of it with proper cleaning equipment, he was super nice about it. Maybe he has a child himself, because he was that understanding. We left an American-style tip because I didn't think vomit-cleaning was part of the "Service Inclus".

We went back home and took Eric's temperature. Ugh - still 103.5 Fahrenheit. We're going to a French hospital, NOW. Of course the nearest hospital couldn't see him, they sent us out to a pediatric hospital further still. When we got there they made me strip him down to his diaper, to help him cool off. We waited for about 20 minutes, then saw a nurse. There were some scary looking maladies in that waiting room so I was glad to get called in! The nurse checked him over and gave him some Paracetamol, which he couldn't get enough of (strawberry flavored).

We waited about another 20 minutes to see the doctor. He was very patient with Eric who at this point had lost all patience and was screaming to wake the dead. The doctor sent us upstairs for a chest x-ray. That took about 15 minutes, and we went back down to have it interpreted by the doctor. He saw evidence of a lingering chest cold (we knew Eric got sick when Daddy had his shoulder surgery) so he gave us a prescription for antibiotics, packaged up the x-ray film, and sent us on our way.

Hospital ER visit with bonus chest x-ray = €85
Ten day supply of infant Amoxicillin = €22
Both will be reimbursed by our health insurance when the paperwork is done, not that I care at those prices! We were out of the hospital by noon with a baby whose outlook was much improved. I can say with certainty that while going to the hospital is not any more fun in France than in the USA, it's no more difficult either. The specialized language was a bit of a challenge but our doctor was Italian anyway so none of us were native speakers.

As a result of that visit I got a new iPod app - GlobeConvert. In the future it will be easier to convey the results of my American thermometer, and I can rest easy knowing that one of my fears in moving here was unfounded. Hurray!