The (single) rat race

I’ve been a working single mum for the last few days. Same thing will happen next week when DP goes away on business again for about a week. I’m definitely not cut for it.

Some days I didn’t even get to have lunch (I know, I know, being 20 weeks pregnant and skipping lunch is definitely not a good idea but I didn’t have a choice). I woke up around 6.15am, to be out of the door with a very uncooperative 2 year old (why wouldn’t he watch L’Ane Trotro before and after having breakfast and again after brushing his teeth?) by 7.45 to be able to catch the 8.15 train once he’s dropped at the caregiver, went through 6 meetings, 3 crisis, 10 voice messages and 54 urgent emails, caught the train back at 5.30pm to be at the caregiver no later than 6pm, stopped by the supermarket, cooked a very quick dinner, managed somehow to convince toddler to have some dinner, coerced toddler into bath through shameful bribery tactics, read stories, put toddler to bed, cleaned kitchen, sorted urgent mail, paid late bills online, prepared toddler’s lunch box for next day, went to bed, got out of bed to put load of clothes for next day in dryer, went back to bed, got up a couple of times to go to the loo thanks to child #2 pressing very annoyingly on bladder, went back to bed, worried about big meetings the next day, got up and checked up on toddler who was coughing like he had pneumonia, went back to bed and it felt like my alarm was suddenly ringing and I had to face yet another day 99% similar to the previous one…

Honestly, I take my hat off to all single parents. I don’t know how they make it through each day without collapsing or going completely mental.

The good news is, before DP goes away again on Tuesday, Monday is a public holiday (Queen’s birthday weekend, vive la Reine d’Angleterre!) so I’ve got 3 days to recharge batteries. And let's look on the bright side, we could be living in Paris and I'd have to get up at 5.15 instead of 6.15 and I'd only get home around 7.30pm!

An hour with Philippe Claudel

Cette breve rencontre avec Philippe Claudel fut un pur bonheur. Sur le plan litteraire d’abord, ses textes sont des petits joyaux, surtout lus par lui a voix haute. Sur le plan artistique, lorsqu’il parlait de la difference entre l’ecriture de scenario et de roman, et de ce qui va faire germer une idee dans son cerveau. Et puis peut-etre plus encore sur le plan humain. Il est une de ses personnes qui vous redonnent confiance en l’Homme. Il a une voix assez grave, chaleureuse et tres vite se degagent de lui une humilite et une simplicite vraiment sinceres. Ses themes de predilection – qui ont toujours ete ceux que je rumine quand je m’interroge trop sur la condition humaine – sont ceux universels du drame humain et des paradoxes de l’etre: la guerre, la mort, la cruaute et la frontiere tres tenue en chacun d’entre nous qui nous empeche – la plupart du temps - de basculer du mauvais cote.

Maintenant j’attends avec une grande impatience de savoir si son film IL Y A LONGTEMPS QUE JE T’AIME va sortir en salles ici ou non. D’ici la, je vais aller faire un tour sur Amazon pour commander le Rapport de Brodeck. Ca se passe dans un camp de concentration. Une de mes obsessions de toujours.

Si j'arrive a me debrouiller de la technique, j'essaierai de poster ici le fichier audio de l'interview. En attendant, voici la bande annonce de son film.

Crisp and clear

5 degres ce matin. Tres froid pour le mois de mai et pour Auckland en general a vrai dire. Mais le ciel brille d'un de ces bleus intenses que l'on ne voit qu'en hiver. Ca m'a donne envie de prendre une (mauvaise) photo lors de mon trajet pedestre entre la gare centrale et le boulot. Et j'ai souri en croisant quelques kiwis, en short et tongs. C'est un peu comme toutes les maisons qui n'ont pas d'isolation et pas de chauffage central... il y a comme un deni du froid dans ce pays. Une illusion d'ile tropicale qui perdure depuis que les premiers immigrants europeens sont arrives ici.



J'ai devore en 2 jours Les Ames Grises de Philippe Claudel avant mon interview avec lui demain soir. J'ai adore l'ecriture, simple, limpide et en meme temps profonde et ai ete completement absorbee par son univers sombre et cruel... a tel point que je n'arrivais pas a m'endormir samedi soir tres tard apres avoir termine le dernier chapitre. Je me demande s'il est aussi sombre que son roman dans la vraie vie. Je vous dirai tout ca tres bientot.

The rat race

I had a bad day yesterday. One of these days where I feel like a hamster running endlessly and aimlessly in a little wheel. It was quite ironic actually because the day started with one more check-up at the Women Assessment Unit at Auckland hospital for these migraines I’ve been having lately. The senior specialist’s final prescription was to take things easy, work less, eliminate stress as much as possible, exercise more and make time for myself. All very good and sensible advice but the exact opposite of what my day ended up to be. Crisis meetings kept creeping up as well as urgent voice messages, the stubborn labour department lady dealing with parental leave couldn’t have been less helpful, our bank account went into overdraft, I got a nasty parking ticket and when I finally got home at 7pm, Little Poppet was having a bad day himself, screaming and whinging and just refusing to listen to anything while DP himself was trying to recover from a shitty day in the office. So all good advice Mr Doctor but how am supposed to achieve it? My mortgage won’t miraculously disappear and I cannot just drop my child to one of our relatives if I don’t feel like looking after him adn rather have a little break instead.

But today the sun is shining, I didn’t hear the alarm clock at 6.20 and only woke up at 7.10, feeling rested for a change and even though I’ve been running from one meeting to another, things are feeling under control. Phew. It’s 5.30pm, better hurry to catch the 5.55 train, get home, grab a bite, read “There’s a House Inside My Mummy” to Little Poppet and rush to Aquanatal class for the very first time. Bliss.

It's that time of the year

Today is graduation day for many of the Auckland Uni students. During my lunch break, I was admiring the robes and the different colours (each representing a different school such as Law, Business or Engineering) as the graduates were walking along Queen Street, usually surrounded by proud family members, their hands full of huge bouquets. I love this sense of tradition, which ironically is much more developped in this young country than back in France. I wish we had such ceremonies in France to mark the important milestones, to create a rite of passage. I loved the citizenship ceremony we went through when we became kiwis, I’ll have to tell you about it one day.

And yesterday was my boy’s second birthday. 2 years since I’ve become a mum. I was so full of love and so emotional when we sang Happy Birthday at the exact time I was pushing him out of me 2 years ago… He’s a little man already, with definite tastes and a strong personality. I’m proud of the job I’ve done so far, even if this pride is somehow shadowed by a sense of loss. Loss of my inner person, loss of the relationship I had with DP before we became parents. Hopefully these will be able to resurrect one day, once we’ve got through the first demanding years of raising young children, as precious as these moments are.


PS Happy birthday Alma...