traveling with a young one

Well of course, we all worried about Snowdrop and the journey before her:  multiple flights, a long day on the road (well, in the air), breaks in routines, constraints in movement. Friends whose birth families live far away (in Europe, south Asia) laughed. They laughed because they've done these long trips with young ones multiple times and so they are seasoned travelers and seasoned travelers like to see a novice suffer, but secondly, they laughed because everyone said that the toughest time to travel with a child is when she or he is 18 months old. Snowdrop is 16.

With my own kids, the pull of Europe was strong, but we were saving for college and it wasn't until I began moonlighting at second jobs that we could fit such travel in on a fairly regular basis. My girls were young when they first crossed the Atlantic, but not as young as Snowdrop.


We start the trip with not a small amount of drama. I had incorrectly thought that my daughter had not bothered changing her passport since marrying and changing her last name and so the ticket that I had booked for her did not, in fact, match her passport name -- something we did not discover until the agent pointed it out to us at the airport. It's a huge error and for a while I was doubting that we could fix it before our flight took off.

We made it, but just barely.

All was forgotten as we boarded: Snowdrop was treated royally on this first flight to Detroit! The captain invited her into the cockpit and she got to sit at the controls. The girl was in high heaven! (And she didn't do anything to steer us off course.)

Back in her seat (well, on her dad's lap):






A longish layover in Detroit was perfect -- we thought. We wore her out, riding the moving sidewalks and having her run from one gate to the next. A late departure -- 9:40 -- a dream for parents (and grandma) of a kid who has been sleeping beautifully long hours since she was a month old.

(With her mom, watching the fountain at the airport as the sun goes down.)






But she was so excited, that she stood out as the only little one on the full flight who was not asleep at take off, not asleep as the aperitif cart rolled by, not asleep as her daddy jiggled and held her close, not asleep when the flight attendant attached the bassinet for her to the bulkhead...

[Does she meet the weight requirements? -- asks the thankfully quite laid back Air France attendant. Yes! - we answer honestly, basing our response  her last weigh-in a few weeks back. A half a pound more and she'd be over the top. Where the bassinnet completely failed her was in length. Snowdrop is a tall girl. Her feet dangled a good six inches up and out.]

... not asleep, not asleep, not asleep. Finally, her mommy softly sang her lullabies, her daddy held her ever so close and she dozed off. For three hours. Then she was up, ready to continue her adventure. Her parents were off in dreamland, but the girl had no intention of joining them there.

Grandma relinquished her seat (for a few minutes) so that the little one could read about Maisy the mouse going on an airplane ride.





(I'll forever remember the walk I took down the aisle with her where she waved with a smile to anyone who would be awake and looking her way.)

Arriving in Paris was in many ways tedious: the line at passport controls was very very long. The terminal required a train ride. But she never once complained and when we picked up our suitcases and met our cab man outside, he gave the highest compliment a French person could give a little one -- she is very sage -- he said. We beamed.

The apartment I had selected (yes, after viewing hundreds!) has the benefit of being large enough for six and on the left bank. I wasn't thrilled that it nearly touches the Eiffel Tower (I like the feel of local neighborhoods and the Eiffel Tower is a neighborhood to the world). But I finally decided that for a child, this is a good place to stay. The Tower has an expansive park before it, where in fact many local children do play and if you walk eastwards, you're smack in the middle of a lovely neighborhood indeed, with all the shops and bakeries and cafes that we visitors adore so much here.

Our living room:






And yes, the windows do come with an incredible view:






Snowdrop naps, her parents unpack, I dash to the store to buy baby food, diapers, grown-up lunch. I am in a hurry (impending high chair delivery!) and so you get just two photos -- of the main commercial street here -- the rue St. Dominique...






... and one of the bakery where I buy sandwiches and a quiche and, well, croissants. Because they really do have such grand croissants here!






My lunch:






Her afternoon snack -- gratin de courgettes (a zucchini mush I find in the store), followed by strawberries and her first croissant:






I know it's not the view that gives her such splendid eating habits. Still, it is one hell of a view.

In the evening, we walk over to an Italian restaurant (Villa Verde), which perhaps may seem like an odd choice for our first night in Paris. (Snowdrop is the world's best distance walker. She can go on like this for many many blocks.)






But I wanted to keep things simple that first night. We were all tired. Snowdrop had not even slept half the hours she was used to sleeping. I had the feeling we would just eat the pasta and run.

We pass the Tower and though I, like millions of others, have photographed this structure countless times before, it was quite special to photograph it once more, this time framed by blooming pink chestnuts.






And once more, the weather predictions were off: they said it would be cold and wet and it was neither. The walk was thrilling, both there and back.






At the restaurant, the waiters (all French -- I actually asked, wondering if they were perhaps Italian) were incredibly gracious to Snowdrop and she responded by turning on her full charm. One of them repeatedly told her she was beautiful (inside and out) and her smile and wave were so disarming that honestly, I could not believe my grandchild was capable of being this good after such a tough day.

When the waiter asked what we'd like for her to eat and we ordered a plate of grilled shrimp, he was dubious.
That's a large order! Are yous sure? Of shrimp?
Yes yes... She'll eat it.






And she did eat it. After sharing our appetizers of cheeses, tomatoes and bread, she dove into her shrimp plate with gusto, finishing every last bit before her. The waiters gasped. I gasped. She smiled and snuggled on the couch next to her proud parents (forget about high chairs -- they are almost not to be found in French restaurants).

And then Snowdrop walked home, holding her parents' hands once more and the breeze danced among the chestnuts and the air was filled with the sweet sweet smell of May.

A few minutes of quiet play in her new home...






On the hour, the lights on the Tower twinkle and dazzle.






We are off to a great start.

departure

We wake to frost, but just barely. One cheeper water bowl has an edge of ice crystals -- that's pretty convincing that the thermometer dipped overnight. But it's never an even distribution of cold molecules out there and I am ever so grateful that all potted annuals just made the cut. Phew! Now let's move on to the warmer stuff! (Needless to say, we waited with planting the tomatoes. A good thing. They'll go in toward the end of the month.)

Things look glorious outside! I'm leaving with beautiful images in my head.






My flight isn't until late afternoon and you would think I'd have plenty of hours, let alone minutes to finish readying the farmette (water plants, hang with the cheepers, pull a few more weeds...) and tucking just washed shirts into my suitcase. But I get it into my head that I should make a dent in our oversupply of rhubarb and bake Ed that strawberry rhubarb cake again.






Well obviously, things got tight then. My images switched from "oh, how lovely is the world" to "oh dear, why do I do these last minute projects?"






Breakfast, however, is calm. Cake in oven, meal in sun room. Lovely. With a patient Ed, putting up with it all, perhaps because even he will admit that the scurry and rush is just a tad nicer than an empty farmhouse.






And at 2:30, Ed and I load the car and drive over to pick up Snowdrop (because our car has the kid seat). And the next post will be from France.

a very different Saturday

My, but it's cold outside. With a frost advisory for tonight, even though I swore to Ed we were done with that.

Ah well. Last one this spring, for sure!

A breakfast in the beautiful (to me) sun room.






Now, about the rest of the day. It requires an explanation.

When I travel, once I've booked my plane, train and hotel room, I put aside preparations until just a few hours before I take off. What's there to fuss about? My suitcase is lightly packed and I work on my to do list once I've landed, settled in and had a glass of wine and maybe a conversation with the inn keepers, wherever I may be.

But I have a trip before me that's different. The idea for it came to me last August and it is the single most easy and at once most complicated trip I have ever planned in my life. I will have spent many more hours working through the details of it than there will be hours at our destination -- which for me will be exclusively Paris. Nine nights in Paris.

What's the fuss? Well, when I was passing through that grand city last summer, I thought how wonderful it would be to be there at least one more time with my family -- my girls, their husbands, my granddaughter. All at the same time.

Ah, but to coordinate something that can gather us like this, given everyone's work and life commitments, given the uncertainty back in August as to what May 2016 will be like, given the various contingencies and given Snowdrop, who was barely half a year old when I got this idea into my head. How will she be so many months into the future?

I persevered. I coordinated. I watched airfares like a hawk. I patiently talked to airlines about seats. Many times. Indeed, I sat down with the airline reps face to face during a winter trip to Paris and asked how it was that I can't book seats in advance, given that Snowdrop would love to sit with her family? (A child her age does not get a seat assignment and so one reason to purchase tickets early is that you get priority in the bulkhead decisions; bulkhead gives us the possibility of a bassinet, if only she didn't look like she is three years old, what with her height and overall girlishness!)

And my kids had to make arrangements. Work schedules. House sitters. All of it. Damn, this seemed complicated.

I persevered. I used miles, I used dollars, I searched for apartments, I adjusted dates, I rented high chairs, I booked a baby-sitter (conveniently referred to as une baby-sitter in French) for the evenings were all of us would be in Paris together (some are arriving later, some are coming then leaving for a bit -- only Snowdrop and I will be the Paris constants, without interruption), and a cab with a baby seat, and restaurants -- oh, don't get me started on the search for places where finally I can eat with my family again! I personally inspected several eateries, rejecting, scratching off one list, trying something else. My daughter helped. We have a plan!

It's been only five years since my younger girl and I traveled across the ocean together, but it's been ten years since I had both girls with me there. How much has changed for them in that time!

And finally, the date is here: we leave tomorrow. At least some of us do. Here's one girl whom I dropped in on today (of course, her dialogue is only imagined by me...):

Hi grandma! Hi hi hi hi hi! The house is in chaos but I'm having fun! Hi hi hi hi hi!






She was a tad confused about the clothes, the books, the diapers strewn everywhere, but she is a girl who goes with the flow.

What's this? A hat? I like it! Fancy!
Actually, it's from Target. But it packs well.






In case it's sunny. Of course, it's not supposed to be sunny. Still... you never know...






That's your carry-on, Snowdrop. With all your important in flight toys, foods and clothes!
I like the way the handle goes up and down!






We break up the sorting, deciding, stacking with a walk. Oh, but it's windy today! Coldest May 14th on record! (That's a guess. Probably a correct one.)






Me, I'm dizzy with plans, with notes, with ideas! At the farmette again, I scribble things down, I iron Snowdrop's clothes (why not!), I clean the farmhouse. And I watch the minutes pass and I think -- wow. We made it to May 14th. That means we'll make it to May 15th too.


Be patient with my posting. I always say that travel will inevitably disrupt the even flow of Ocean writing. Never more so than now, with a lively little girl and a few sundry others to keep me hopping all through the grand hours of travel together.

A last appreciative look at the front of the farmhouse. And the lilac. And Butter, knowing only the boundaries of the farmette.
Don't forget to give them daily bread, Ed....



 


The reminders begin. Don't forget, don't forget.
I wont.
Okay.

Friday

An ordinary day, with elements of the unusual. Couldn't you say that about most days? And so maybe this Friday was just as you would expect it to be?

Here's an unusual element: Ed is up to do the morning work with the cheepers. And of course, because I am so programmed to wake myself then, so driven to get things done early in the morning, I cannot luxuriate in the novel wonderfulness of this permission to sleep in. I'm up two minutes after him.

And it's fortuitous that I should get going early, because we have guests for -- (the usual!)  -- breakfast.





We all are inclined to linger, even as each of us is pressed for time.  Our guests are driving back to Chicago, Ed has his Friday tech meetings and I have Snowdrop.

One quick glance at the garden...





...and I'm off.

Except I needn't have hurried. Here's an unusual element: ten o'clock in the morning and Snowdrop is still sleeping! Fighting a bug? Recovering from yesterday's outings? You can never tell...


At last, it's time for her breakfast.

Cool astronaut p.j.'s, Snowdrop!
Do you have strawberries for me, grandma?






After her bath, she discovers a toy that is not necessarily easy to propel. You pull it at a certain angle and the "kangaroo" flaps its paws.

How do I get it to flap???






She finally figures it out and she does a lovely dance step trying to run forward and look back at her kangaroo.






We go for a walk then. Not too long. It's cold outside. She's in a sweater and a jacket. Oh, spring can be so fickle here!

Back home, I watch her try on three occupational hats. Here she is, thinking about rockets again...






And here, she is building towers with periodic element blocks, indicating perhaps that she is not hostile to science. Or construction work.






And here, she is happily proclaiming her chef stardom status from up high.






My time with Snowdrop though isn't long. In the afternoon, I have a haircut, grocery shopping, and finally -- a check of the garden after all the rains we've had. There are plants to support, weeds to remove -- the usual.

What's blooming in the yard? Well, let's give a final appreciative nod to the late flowering narcissus varieties.






And of course, to the queen of early spring: the lilac.






I'm paying attention to the buds that are ready for the next stage...






And always, always, I am grateful to the melange of colors provided by the potted annuals.






Tomorrow they say may be even cooler! No matter. I'm confident we're past the frost danger. Spring waffles and swings and sways. And despite the fluctuations, each day reveals layers of surprising beauty. And that's no surprise for this time of the year, is it...

Thursday

At dawn, the skies had just that touch of mist to them -- enough to create a delicate pattern in the sky, but not enough to hide the fields, the distant hills, the gently blue sky.






And sure enough, by the time I let the cheepers out and clean the coop, all wisps of mist are but a memory. Here's the farmhouse in the bold colors of full blown spring.






If you look toward the barn, you'll still see some apple blossom petals on the path, but most likely, your attention will be drawn to the lushness of the largest of my flower fields.






It's warm enough to eat breakfast on the porch.






The cheepers get a treat now as well -- bread bits mixed with tasty blossoms. Happy girls indeed!






The rest of the daylight hours I devote to Snowdrop.

Here she is just after her bath, watching a toy roll away and articulating what has become her favorite phrase of late -- oh-oh! As in -- now look what I've done! Always with a twinkle in her eye.






I suggest a hair clip and this triggers another favorite -- the pulling off of the hair clip.






(The way to get it to stay on is to slip it in when she is distracted. I'll try again later.)

The sun is out now. Want to go for a walk, Snowdrop?
Really? Now? Let's go let's go let's go let's go!






It's so warm that when we pause at the coffee shop, we find a delightful spot outside. No sweater needed! She, of course, studies the activity on the street...






... and at the other tables...






Looking this way and that, missing nothing.






Oh, isn't this grand, grandma?






Time to head home. We take in the used dishes and the high chair and I tell her to find the stroller...





Such a glorious day to be outdoors!

And so I am thrilled that our out of town visitors suggest that we meet them for a walk in the afternoon in the Arboretum. The vast expanse of grass, beautifully framed by lilacs and blooming trees takes the breath away and gives a Snowdrop the freedom to explore. Forgive the photo run. It's as much of the Arboretum as it is of grandmotherly pride.
















This way, grandma!






Magic!






One of the best play moments for her? Dandelion puffs!






For you, grandpa Ed! Dandelion shreds!











From here it's but a short drive to the farmette. And because it's Snowdrop's last visit here for a couple of weeks (more on that later), I let her have her romp with her friends...






And leave for myself an image of her under the willow branches.





Such a beautiful day!  Of lilacs and little hands clutching dandelions. Of running, indoors and outdoors. Of filling your lungs with the scent of May. Oh, how I love having nature right there, at my doorstep! I know Snowdrop loves it too. She tells me this again and again, in a thousand ways.