How About An Audrey?

My husband sent me an interesting email from work this morning. The subjuct line read "How about another Audrey?" There was a link to a news story in the body of the email. I clicked on the article and read that the French government was trying to encourage more families to have at least three children. The thought being that the birth rate in France remains one the lowest in Europe, and to maintain a respectable population growth, they would like parents to have as many children as possible. As an incentive they were offering families up to 900 euros per month plus other subsidies in child care and housing, etc.

To put it bluntly - I love my two daughters but I do not wish to have any more children. I know my mother could have thought the same way, since I am kid number 3. However, we live in a different time now and raising one child is exceedingly expensive, let alone three. It's the reason why both of my brothers and their wives each have only one daughter.

The inventor of this idea clearly is not a woman, definitely doesn't have any children, and certainly is not an entreprenuer. Otherwise he would know that 900 euros or roughly $1,000 USD would not cover the extra expenses of having a third child.

He would also know that the average entreprenuer doesn't have time in their day to run behind another child nor do they wish to shell out all that money to a babysitter. Last, he surely knows that encouraging women to have more children keeps them at home and out of the workplace, where quite frankly it seems, most French men would prefer their women to be.

With childcare, food (I forgot that they expect you to breast feed), and clothing (also forgot that they expect you to stay at home and not work) and just sheer loss of time, means this not a workable solution for most families. Now Philippe has a best friend, and they already have three children. Talking to his wife recently, she told me that she'd love to have at least two more! God bless her.

My reply to my husband's email? "I don't think so!" in the subject line and no explanation in the body. He replies next with "It was only a joke." My final reply, "It better be." I think we'll sit this one out and let other French people worry about growing their own population.

If You Build It...

And they do come, here in Paris, to a tiny non-descript, South African bar called La Pomme d'Eve. This is where you'll find me and Philippe more than a few nights during the summer and fall because I LOVE baseball. Specifically, I really love the Chicago White Sox - not the Cubs, because I grew up on the Southside of the city. In fact, it's practically a sin to be a Cubs fan south of 35th Street.

I love Ozzie Guillen, the current Sox manager. You might say that he "re-ignited" my love for the game. I saw him the first time at age 15 when he was the Sox's new hot-shot shortstop. It was love at first sight. From that point on, I wanted to go to every Sox game, and my big brothers Tony and Kirk, a shortstop and third baseman respectively, had no qualms about taking me. It was also during that time that I learned everything about the game: what's a sac fly, when do you bunt, how do you steal bases, and if you're stealing home plate why it's great to knock over the catcher!

Philippe goes with me to La Pomme d'Eve for moral support because on the nights that I go, the games usually start around 10 pm. I leave the kids at home with the babysitter. Usually, I am also the only woman in the room, surrounded by players from the Paris Baseball League - all whom appear to be Australian. Stranger still, the game is on behind the bar on a tiny television set while the big screen television is showing MTV! And, it's "polite watching," meaning that there is no yelling at the television and no real discussion about why an error occured, or why no one tagged up on the fly ball, etc. I'm also the only person speaking (or yelling) at the television set in English.

Philippe just doesn't get my fascination with America's favorite past time. It must be a French thing. He says, "It just doesn't have as much excitement as football/soccer." I'm heartened at least to learn that Chloe (my oldest) has already developed an interest in the game.

I'd taken Philippe to the ballpark on many occasions back in Chicago, but he didn't enjoy the games all that much. I think he mentioned something about being a jinx because the Sox would lose every game he attended. Worst news of all, his powers are still strong because the last time I went to see my precious Sox at the La Pomme d'Eve, they lost. Get it together guys, you've got fans 4,000 miles away! We need to see you win the pennant!

All I Want Is Some Tennis!

The U.S. Open is on now. I'm watching last night's match. It's okay because I expect the time difference. It used to happen all the time in reverse in the U.S. whenever I tried to watch the Australian Open in January. However, the sheer lack of coverage is what's making me cranky today. Honestly, I've been trying to watch tennis here for 3 years and I swear that the only time you get coverage (cable included) is when a French player is on the court. That really sucks because like baseball, tennis is a like a religion for me. Years ago when I worked in municipal government, I would take one of my vacations in September just so I could watch early-round coverage of the Open during the day on cable.

I discovered tennis at a really early age. Nobody else I knew cared for the sport or even played it for that matter, but I didn't care. I was seven years old, and it was a year after Arthur Ashe won the U.S. Open. That's when I discovered my hero, Bjorn Borg. I was too young to like him for all the reasons the bigger girls did, I just thought he looked cool on the court. He was a man of very few words and let his racket do all the talking for him. I was simply mesmerized and I watched him win a total of five Wimbledon titles. Every July, I would be right there in front of the television set with a bowl of cereal and strawberries. Since that time, I've seen a lot of great players come and go - my favorites being Borg, Wilander, Edberg, (there's a pattern of Swedes here), Becker and Sampras. I've missed very few major matches until moving to France, and even when I do catch a tournament, I turn down the sound of the television because the play-by-play simultaneously in French and English is annoying. At least I take the time to actually play more than I did in Chicago - even though I had a court across the street from my house.

Chloe has developed an interest in tennis. I hope Jillian and Chloe learn to play because Philippe is a big tennis fan too. Back in Chicago he and I used to go and watch many of the players listed in senior tournaments. That sounds so funny.

Philippe recently asked me how would feel if Chloe became a really good player and turned pro? I thought about it and said it would be great. "Uh huh," he said. "Could you see yourself as one of those backstage sports parents? They would bar you from the tennis stadiums."

Yes and no - it depends on what's happening, as I think about it. I could become one of those parents because like many of them, I learned the game from an arm chair. But I think I'd be cool and rational, just like Borg for the most part. However, one really, truly unfair call against my kid and Philippe might have a point. The fathers of Elena Dokic, Mary Pierce, Jennifer Capriati, and Serena and Venus Williams would look like choir boys by comparison.

Saturday School

Today is the first week of Saturday school, and it was my turn to take Chloe. I'm adding this phenomenon to my French list, too. I'll never understand why there's no school on Wednesday but school on Saturday. Surely, they have to know how much this screws up parents' schedules.

Philippe is off to the register the girls in some sort of Wednesday activity. I love my daughters, really I do, but if I have to spend my entire day breaking up fights, trying to decipher who hit whom first and why, I'll lose my mind. Enrolling them in an activity (one or two hours) helps me to keep my sanity.

Jillian will be taking an English class. Although she and Chloe are both currently enrolled in what I call "Mommy school," Jillian still doesn't speak English as well as I'd like. Although she speaks English when she wants to, she understands English much better than she speaks. It's understandable, I guess, since she did arrive in France at two weeks old. Some would argue that French is her mother tongue but I beg to differ. That's an argument for another day.

After almost three hours of waiting, Philippe managed to get Chloe registered in a beginners gymnastics class, her first choice. I couldn't phantom the wait but then Philippe reminded me about the long wait at a particular public park across the street from our old house, Welles Park. From our living room window, it was virtually a tradition to watch people line up the night before registration, in sub-zero January weather, to register their kids for summer camp programs. We literally lived across the street but could never get Chloe registered.

Personally, I don't care if Chloe's good or bad at gymnastics. For once, I just want her to go to class more than four times before giving up. Last year it was chess and the year before, karate. Although I'll forgive her for karate. Honestly, she quit after spending 14 hours at a karate tournament in which all she got was a tiny medal as a parting gift. Somewhere around hour five, I said to Philippe, "Who is the organizer of this thing and where can I find him so I can smack 'em! Seriously, I think I can take 'em down!" I was lucky because I had Jillian, and at one point we ran out of diapers. I had to go home, but Philippe and Chloe soldiered on.

Even if gymnastics doesn't work, there's always the tennis or fencing, the backups. No laughing about the fencing because it could land her a full ride to an IVY league school - seriously. What mother wouldn't want her kid to hang out at Harvard or Yale? ;-)

Hurricane Katrina

I'm sitting here this morning watching the news come in about Hurricane Katrina. At night I catch the news late night with Brian Williams on NBC so I can get a more local perspective.

I am so overwhelmed with emotion, I am just speechless. I feel so helpless watching mothers with children and babies, the elderly and poor having nowhere to go. I wish I was back home. I know that I could only do so much if I were there, but the need to do something is so real. I've donated money already, and I am constantly looking for other things to do, but I just don't feel like it's enough.

My heart and prayers go out to everyone suffering in Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama. To my knowledge, all my relatives in these areas are safe. However, I am forever conscious of the fact that ALL of those people - no matter their race, religion, age - are my family, too. I'll continue to find more ways to help, but in the meantime, join me in donating at www.redcross.org.

Also, if you want to donate in some other way, MSN provides this list: http://www.microsoft.com/mscorp/citizenship/giving/agencies.asp.