For more than two years now, I have shared my little stories in French as a completely stressed out French mum lost in England, with Pom de Pin in wonderland. In a big moment of complete delusion, I thought it was time to try to write in English…ahaha, great move, just the first post and I am already at a loss! How on earth should I start?… I suppose I should introduce you to the family (assuming there is someone reading, out there. Hellooo? If you are, you are amazing and I will thank you eternally-oh, and yes, I always digress like that, it’s pathological).
My husband Marichéri (no, that’s not his real name, he had a life before me, but frankly, it’s not worth mentioning) and I left France almost 20 years ago for Ireland. We were, very, very, very young, so we still are, obviously. 9 years ago we crossed the Irish sea and we live now in a very nice village in Essex. In between moving countries, we mamaged to have a handful of kids, litteraly, three Irish and two English, it’s fun during the 6 nations or the rugby world cup! Marichéri is amazing, not just because he can stay perfectly calm while I keep panicking like an epileptic hen about absolutely everything. He is the one who pushed me to write a blog (so I would shut up for a minute), so blame him! And he is also very tall, about 12ft8 or something, I am not very good with numbers.
Our eldest son, L’Ado looks like a cross between a rag doll who would have been washed in a puddle and Chewbacca after a bad eighty perm (like his mum basically). He has is own language, a mixed of pachydermic grunts and hysterical rants about everything being unfair and facist (cleaning his room, doing homework…). He also has a very unique sense of style (no, a zombie t-shirt with graphic details and some tomatoe sauce and half eaten pepperoni stucked at the back from last night fridge raid is not an appropriate look for a 6th form interview) and a pathological inability to do anything manually. Like not dropping his phone in the toilet, or not stepping on his glasses, or loosing his left sock, while wearing his shoes (one black converse, one brown school shoe, both right foot). This child is a pure joy to live with. I mean we really appreciate it when he is asleep, until mid afternoon normally at the week end.
GeekAdo is like his dad, but still growing so he is just about 9ft2 for now…although, maybe I should go and check again, he grows so quickly, I am not sure. He does not wear zombies on his t-shirts like his brother but he looks like one, thanks to hours spent in front of his computer. He fears exercise, fresh air, sunshine and people in general as a specie…he has the organisational skills of dictatorial ant, his room is not just in order, but in alphabetical order. He knows about ancient China military history, new astronomical discoveries and medieval agricultural technics in western Hungary or something. He has an opinion on the new Star Wars movie and the evolution of metallurgy in Russia in the nineteenth century… His teachers think he is amazing…It’s a bit scary sometimes, like living with Sheldon Cooper.
PrincesseDiva is …well, a diva. She embraces pre teen mood swings with gusto. I mean “seriously, like what-ever”! We have officially ruined her life for ever last July, when we moved and she had to change school. It just happened that she loooooves her new school, but that’s just a detail. She has big hope of becoming either an actress or prime minister, or maybe both, she’s not sure yet. Her two older brothers are absolutely horrified by her ability to talk in public, and enjoying it. Then we have PrincesseChipie who still has some time ahead of her before she reaches such a delightful age. She is very much a happy little girl, bouncing and chatting all the time. Really. She never shuts up. And never stays still. Ever. But she is always in such a good mood, she gets away with everything. Which is good because she can be pretty cheeky! Finally we have Toddler 5… Ok, I have a problem, that nickname looked great in French, but in English, it really looks like I run out of ideas. I may change it (the nickname, not the baby). Let’s stick with “Toddler 5” for now. He is the very, very energetic baby of the family. Let’s be honest, he is the boss, and he knows it. We also have two cats, an older one, who is the grumpiest cat in the universe, and likes to express herself by peeing all over the place, and a brand new kitten, very friendly who bounces everywhere but farts when she is scared, and a kitten gets sacred very easily.
As for me, I am a part time French teacher (big surprise), with a passion for cows and farm animals (I am still trying to convince Marichéri that we could adopt a couple of ducks. Or a goat. Or a cow now that we have a bigger garden…maybe a few hens?) I am completely neurotic, totally washed out by the kids, and with hair like a wet poodle after an electrocution. I come from the south west of France, where pine trees grow (they are apparently the only things from there that grow…I am not exactly small, but…Well…), hence the name “Mrs Pine Cone”, but you can call me Pomdepin (the same in French). Even after 9 years I am still amazed by life in England and I love it which means I make stupid jokes about it when I stop ranting about my family. I have a peculiar sense of humour apparently, I have been told so anyway. Frequently.