Sisterhood46

We're back in the burbs and with only a couple of weeks until the first day of school, it's all about Back to School preparations in our household. I'm sure it's not different in the city. I know we all have a very long to do list, but here's one thing we should all be doing.....making sure that for the next 200 days we don't pack our kids' lunchboxes with ziplocks and filling up landfills around the country. Below is a great article on how to kick the plastic habit and where to get kid- friendly, environmentally- friendly lunch box options. Check it out! http://www.ctbites.com/home/2009/8/11/packing-school-lunch-get-on-the-plastic-ban-wagon.html

This was posted on the window of the Town Hall,  in the small french village we stayed in. "Town Hall is closed every afternoon." Working hard, the French way. If you ask me it's much more healthy and sane!

Hotel Closed As the kids and I are 3000 miles away from the burbs, hubbie is on site taking care of our unwanted visitors. (I tried to take care of them while I was there, I even went and had a mousetrap tutorial from the guy at the local hardware store! But it just really creeped me out. Just hearing the snap of an empty mouse trap made me jump a couple of inches off the ground.) So last night at 11:03PM hubbie put down 6 mouse traps. At 11:06PM he had caught the first one! By the second day the body count was 5. It seems that the tried and true method of a basic mouse trap with a dab of peanut butter is the way to go. We have one  super smart or super small mouse that has thus far been able to get the peanut butter without getting caught....I know with my brave hubby on the case he won’t last long! I’m so grateful that when I get back the mouse hotel will be closed.

Going home to France is a journey in time.  The three thousand mile journey takes off about 20 years from my age. I leave the U.S.A, a mother and arrive in France a daughter.It’s kind of a funny thing because I travel with my three kids so by necessity I remain an adult in charge of the well being of three little ones. But when I’m in France, I’m taken care of and others refer to me and treat me as primarily a daughter, not a mother. My dad does little things like making me breakfast and where ever I go, whether it’s the local village or the bakery everyone refers to me as Jacques Blondeau’s daughter. That’s also how I’m introduced to new people, I’m not Sophie, I’m Jacques’ daughter. It’s a funny thing, time travel.

The kids and I are in France for our annual summer getaway. Here's a sure sign that I'm no longer in the burbs. This morning as I was doing my morning workout when I had to kindly ask my father if he could refrain from smoking until I finished my last push up set! Then when I asked him to time a one minute jump rope interval  he told me that he didn't need a clock since it takes him about a minute to smoke a cigarette he would use that as a timer instead! The burbs seem very far away!