Easy Come, Easy Go

This Wednesday must have been the easiest Wednesday that I’ve had here yet. Usually, easy would not describe a day where Thomas and Matthew wake up fighting, but Christine finally got wise and decided to separate them, taking Thomas to the store and leaving Matthew with me. When they returned, the kids were just easy the rest of the day; easily distracted by walks and games of red light green light, songs in the bath and writing stories about tractors.

But today, Wednesday seems like it was ages ago. As always, Wednesdays are followed by Thursdays (or at least that’s what Rebecca Black tells me), and this Thursday in particular, was not so easy. Christine left me a huge list of things to do. It might have not been so bad if I hadn’t made plans to go to the beach with Luisa already (which I had to cancel), or if I could read Christine’s handwriting. I was halfway through deep-cleaning Thomas and Matthew’s rooms when I realized she wanted me to clean their chaussures and not their chambres, and I spent 20 minutes in front of the beef section at Leclerc trying to figure out what kind of beef she wanted me to get before I realized that she wanted 6 oeufs and not boeuf. And then the whole culture/language barrier, even the one between me and Nigel, would have helped had it not existed, because apparently in this house, corn flakes=any cereal that is not corn flakes.

[Translated conversation]
Christine: Is this the box of cereal you bought today?
Me: Yes
Christine: why did you buy this cereal?
Me: Because you told me to get corn flakes and those are corn flakes
Christine: *pulls miel pops boxtop label off of counter that I thought was for boxtops* you were supposed to buy these, I already have 3 boxes of those.
Me: sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to get those because you asked for corn flakes and those are miel pops
Christine: no they’re corn flakes
Me: ok, sorry

I suppose boxtops is an American thing.

But this morning, was just the thing to top it all off. After four months, I have finally started to settle into a morning routine. Get up at 6:45, start the kettle if no one else has, fix Matthew’s bottle, fix orange juice (which I don’t do anymore because the juicer and juice glasses disappeared Wednesday and Christine stopped buying oranges), put the dishes away, give Matthew his bottle (followed by a “Mechante, Gabrielle”), give Thomas his yogurt if he doesn’t have it already (“tu m’enerve” or “laisse-moi tranquille”), make sure the shoes for the day are out, go hide in my room for ten minutes because the kids will throw a fit if I sit down and watch TV with them and I don’t like their shows anyways, after Thomas is dressed I bring him his vitamins, make sure they have their shoes and sweaters on, take their pajamas upstairs and fold towels so that everything is ready for the bath in the evening, and then I’m done. So I got up, ready to take on the morning as a fresh start as always, despite only getting 4 hours of sleep last night. At that point, to my knowledge I had done everything perfectly- everything’s fixed, kids have their food. But after five minutes Thomas hasn’t touched his yogurt and he’s just holding it in his hand staring at the TV. I give him a gentle reminder that he needs to eat. He looks down at the yogurt container and says he doesn’t want it. Christine comes over, sees the yogurt container, and flips out.

Christine: Gabriella, you have been here four months and every day I still have to tell you what to do. You should know all these things by now. You do the same thing every day, what were you thinking?
Me: Does he not like raspberry yogurt?
Christine: No, he’s never liked it. You have to think before you do things like this. Everyday it’s the same thing. It’s not hard
Me: I just didn’t know—
Christine: It’s not about what you know. You just have to think. You’ve been here four months you should know by now.

For reference, the yogurt shelf in the refrigerator is organized into 4 sections, Matthew’s yogurt, Nigel’s yogurt, Christine’s desserts, and Thomas’ yogurt. Every morning I just take the yogurt from Thomas’ section. I guess I’ve never given him a raspberry one before and it’s true I’ve never thought about it. What is the point of having sectioned yogurt, if the kid doesn’t like the yogurt in his section?

There is just so much to remember, all for the sake of trying to make Christine and Nigel’s lives easier but for some reason it all just seems to make their lives harder. I couldn’t stand to live like this for the rest of my life—always in a panic, every second is like a heart attack, the next two weeks will be hard enough. :P

At least there is some beauty to this place.