the importance of First Impressions

I am aware that the reader is going to find reading this blog a rather schizophrenic experience. There will be the entries written by Mark – carefully written by that part of him that was a student of literature as an undergraduate. They’ll be funny, insightful and well-written. Then there will be the blogs written by me. I took only a couple lit classes – one of which was a children’s lit class, which I mistakenly thought would be an easy A. it pretty much kicked my petunia (a reference that only about 3 of you will get, but you know who you are), and came very close to ruining my 4.0. Anyhoo. I think you all better be prepared for a bit of an up-and-down experience. Mark is convinced that people will only read something well done and hates to disappoint. While I agree for the most part, I also think that people wanna hear what is going on, even if it ain’t hilarious.

So, while Mark was off having his not-so-homo-erotic odyssey, I was in Cotignac navigating my own little version of dante’s inferno. My main goal for that Sunday (a week ago now) was to do a little shopping so we would have some food basics for the house. Since Mark was still away, there was no choice but to take the kids along with me and hope that their jetlag state would not lead to some sort of embarrassing melt down. It turned out the embarrassment came in a form I would not have predicted.

On the short walk to the main square (it is about a 4 minute walk), Jasper started to complain of a tummy ache. I chalked it up to jetlag and assured her that it would be a short walk and that we would be home soon. We found the tiny, but surprisingly well-stocked little store. It is about 1/3 the size of Nadi’s (for those of you who are familiar with the little kitsilano store) and has everything from a nice selection of produce (very much unlike Nadi’s) to toothpaste to, of course, an amazing assortment of cheese. And of course, bottles of probably great wine starting from 3 euros. About halfway through my perusal of the store Jasper actually started moaning. Uh oh. Given that this is a kid who us usually pretty stoic about bodily discomfort I started to get a little more worried. I asked her if she needed a bathroom immediately for any reason and she said she didn’t think so. I hurried up and made a few more choices and got into line. I had just finished the transaction (feeling slightly smug that all had gone well, language-wise) when I looked up and saw Jasper making an unmistakable bodily gesture that she was about to vomit. I tried to shoo her out of the store before disaster hit, but unfortunately she vomited right smack in middle of the front entry way. It didn’t look like she was quite done, so I again tried to shoo her out of the store. Her next upchuck was outside, but was still right smack in front of the store, right between the lovely racks of fruits and vegetables.

I was torn. In several ways. A part of me wanted to be a good mother and comfort Jasper first and foremost. A part of me wanted to look shocked, run away and pretend I did not know these little vomiting foreigners. And a part of me wanted to make sure I handled this in a somehow appropriately French way. Since I have no idea what that would like, I just did my best. I got Jasper and Maddox settled outside by a tree, just in case Jasper needed to vomit more. And then I went back to the store to offer to help clean up. I was actually glad they let me help. I was also really glad that one of my few meagre phrases of French is “I am sorry.” I got a lot of practice saying that one that day. I am not sure what all they said in return, but they seemed understanding and not overly appalled. AND, I have since shopped in there and they did not run me out on a rail.

Sadly for her, Jasper is still certain that the pain au chocolat was to blame and she still isn’t willing to eat one. This works out well for Maddox who has been quite willing to do his part and eat Jasper’s for her.