28 August
Olga and Borge were celebrated the third birthday of Billy, Lisa and Jaume’s youngest daughter today, and invited us to join them at their place. They live about a half hour from Barcelona, on a hill overlooking the sea, in a lovely house with a terrific garden, and we like them all a lot. Lisa’s friend Katya joined the group also. Once again, we ate and ate—an enormous salad, osso bucco, cava, red wine, and birthday cake, of course. C.C. fed the bones to Bondo the dog, (short for Vagabondo, because he was abandoned).
Then we all trooped to the neighbor’s house for a swim. Despite the heat in Barcelona, it was actually a bit chilly but the kids will swim no matter what the temperature. We returned to the house for cheese and fruit, and drove back as the sun began to set.
Subscribe To Year in Barcelona
Posts
All Comments
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Our new kangaroo
I am not sure why, but here in Barcelona babysitters are called “canguros” which is the Spanish word for kangaroo. Anyway, we figured we needed one. We are starting work next week, we have friends scheduling visits and it would be nice for Alec and I to go out on the town now and then. So we got the name of a prospective canguro—Andrea-- from Lisa Pram (Raquel’s niece), whose friend has employed Andrea’s sister as her canguro for 5 years. Alec called her this morning to set something up—we figured it would be a good idea to ease the kids into the idea. As it turned out, she was free this evening so we figured we’d go for it, and asked her to come at 7:30.
I think today is the hottest day we’ve had so far. Alec needed to get some work done, so I took the kids for a swim and a movie (Como Perros y Gatos: La Revanche de Kitty Galore (Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore)—in Spanish, in 3D) and left him home with his computer. We also needed to pick up the filter for the fish, so our plan was that Alec would pick the kids up after the movie, and I’d get a little workout in at the gym before heading back home where we’d all meet up with Andrea.
Somehow, we neglected to discuss how we would break the canguro news to the kids and Alec assumed that since I’d spent all day with them, I would have told them. To be honest, it crossed my mind, but we were having such a good time and I knew it would not go over well. So I punted. I meant to tell Alec when he picked them up but… somehow that didn’t happen either. I know, I know, pure avoidance on my part. So I’m out of the shower and getting dressed at the gym when my phone rings. It’s Alec of course. He’s driving back from the fish place. “So, I guess you didn’t tell the kids about our plan,” he says, “which is fine, but I have a major revolt on my hands here. These kids are not happy.” He had agreed to meet Andrea at the metro stop and asks me to do it on my way back from the gym.
I meet her and she’s super nice. I prepare her that she might not get the best reception from our kids. And sure enough, when we enter the apartment and I introduce her to the kids, they practically shoot daggers at her with their eyes. And then turn their backs to her and go back to watching the fish, who now have names (Cyclone (C.C.’s) and Fishy (Milo’s), along with their new filter and a hideous plastic plant that takes up a lot of the real estate in their roomy, costly tank. Fortunately, Andrea is not thrown off by the reaction; she has two kids of her own so she has probably seen it all.
We feed the kids dinner, and try to orchestrate a conversation, but they refuse to ask or answer questions. It’s clear by now that there is no way we are going to be able to leave before they are in bed, and perhaps not until they are sound asleep. So we continue with the bedtime routine—Alec and Andrea read with Milo, and I read with C.C. She takes the opportunity of being alone with me to tell me exactly what she thinks of our plan:
“Mama, I don’t want that person here..”
“I know, C.C., but we need someone to help take care of you now and then, and it seemed like a good idea to start with just a little time—Daddy and I are just going to the corner for a little dinner and we’ll be right back.”
“In ten minutes? Can you be back in 10 minutes? And why do you need to go out anyway?”
“Moms and Dads need special time, just like I need special time just with you.”
“Well, why can’t you just talk to each other here, after we’re asleep. There’s no way she can be like Blanca.”
“Of course not, C.C. No one can ever replace Blanca. But if you give her a chance you might like her. You had Simba and Annie watch you sometimes in Brooklyn.”
“Yeah, well, I had Simba for like 100 Ethical Cultures, and I’ve known Annie since preschool!I don’t even know her! How can I have a babysitter I’ve never even met!”
She has a point. Blanca started working for us the day C.C. was born. Other than family members, we had never used another babysitter until about a year ago. Whenever we needed someone, Blanca was always grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money. And then, as C.C. pointed out, we were lucky to be able to find other people—like Simba and Annie—that the kids already knew and liked. So we definitely had a hand in creating the monster that reared it’s head this evening.
“I understand, C.C. It’s not easy.”
“I’m seven years old, you know. I have opinions! And they count!”…..
Surprisingly, C.C. goes to sleep relatively quickly. Milo is the tricky one, flopping like a fish and gripping onto Alec so that he can’t leave. Alec leaves for awhile and then goes back to try again with Milo. Suddenly Milo stops his flopping, sits up in bed and says:
“Okay, Daddy. You can go if you have to go. But I need one thing.”
“What’s that, sweetie?”
“Give me all your euros.”
Alec empties his pocket of change and Milo grins a huge grin and says, “Just put it on my bedside table and I’ll put it in my Ninja Turtle bank tomorrow.”
And that was that. We had a lovely dinner at a little Italian place with tables outside near the entrance to the park down the block.
I think today is the hottest day we’ve had so far. Alec needed to get some work done, so I took the kids for a swim and a movie (Como Perros y Gatos: La Revanche de Kitty Galore (Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore)—in Spanish, in 3D) and left him home with his computer. We also needed to pick up the filter for the fish, so our plan was that Alec would pick the kids up after the movie, and I’d get a little workout in at the gym before heading back home where we’d all meet up with Andrea.
Somehow, we neglected to discuss how we would break the canguro news to the kids and Alec assumed that since I’d spent all day with them, I would have told them. To be honest, it crossed my mind, but we were having such a good time and I knew it would not go over well. So I punted. I meant to tell Alec when he picked them up but… somehow that didn’t happen either. I know, I know, pure avoidance on my part. So I’m out of the shower and getting dressed at the gym when my phone rings. It’s Alec of course. He’s driving back from the fish place. “So, I guess you didn’t tell the kids about our plan,” he says, “which is fine, but I have a major revolt on my hands here. These kids are not happy.” He had agreed to meet Andrea at the metro stop and asks me to do it on my way back from the gym.
I meet her and she’s super nice. I prepare her that she might not get the best reception from our kids. And sure enough, when we enter the apartment and I introduce her to the kids, they practically shoot daggers at her with their eyes. And then turn their backs to her and go back to watching the fish, who now have names (Cyclone (C.C.’s) and Fishy (Milo’s), along with their new filter and a hideous plastic plant that takes up a lot of the real estate in their roomy, costly tank. Fortunately, Andrea is not thrown off by the reaction; she has two kids of her own so she has probably seen it all.
We feed the kids dinner, and try to orchestrate a conversation, but they refuse to ask or answer questions. It’s clear by now that there is no way we are going to be able to leave before they are in bed, and perhaps not until they are sound asleep. So we continue with the bedtime routine—Alec and Andrea read with Milo, and I read with C.C. She takes the opportunity of being alone with me to tell me exactly what she thinks of our plan:
“Mama, I don’t want that person here..”
“I know, C.C., but we need someone to help take care of you now and then, and it seemed like a good idea to start with just a little time—Daddy and I are just going to the corner for a little dinner and we’ll be right back.”
“In ten minutes? Can you be back in 10 minutes? And why do you need to go out anyway?”
“Moms and Dads need special time, just like I need special time just with you.”
“Well, why can’t you just talk to each other here, after we’re asleep. There’s no way she can be like Blanca.”
“Of course not, C.C. No one can ever replace Blanca. But if you give her a chance you might like her. You had Simba and Annie watch you sometimes in Brooklyn.”
“Yeah, well, I had Simba for like 100 Ethical Cultures, and I’ve known Annie since preschool!I don’t even know her! How can I have a babysitter I’ve never even met!”
She has a point. Blanca started working for us the day C.C. was born. Other than family members, we had never used another babysitter until about a year ago. Whenever we needed someone, Blanca was always grateful for the opportunity to make some extra money. And then, as C.C. pointed out, we were lucky to be able to find other people—like Simba and Annie—that the kids already knew and liked. So we definitely had a hand in creating the monster that reared it’s head this evening.
“I understand, C.C. It’s not easy.”
“I’m seven years old, you know. I have opinions! And they count!”…..
Surprisingly, C.C. goes to sleep relatively quickly. Milo is the tricky one, flopping like a fish and gripping onto Alec so that he can’t leave. Alec leaves for awhile and then goes back to try again with Milo. Suddenly Milo stops his flopping, sits up in bed and says:
“Okay, Daddy. You can go if you have to go. But I need one thing.”
“What’s that, sweetie?”
“Give me all your euros.”
Alec empties his pocket of change and Milo grins a huge grin and says, “Just put it on my bedside table and I’ll put it in my Ninja Turtle bank tomorrow.”
And that was that. We had a lovely dinner at a little Italian place with tables outside near the entrance to the park down the block.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Super Special Surprise
The sorry state of our post-vacation pantry motivated us to take a trip to Carrefour, the biggest supermarket around, to stock up. We can wheel our little cart to the neighborhood markets day in and day out for most of what we need, but every now and then a big shop is in order, and today was the day.
The first time Alec and I went there, weeks ago, leaving the kids with Myron and Raquel, we spied a pet store across the way from Carrefour in the same mall, and decided to bring home a couple of fish for the kids. I had seen a fishbowl type thing at the apartment that I thought would do nicely for their home, and it seemed like an inexpensive way to score a lot of points with the wee ones. We also figured it would help ease the transition and also fill a tiny bit of the enormous hole left in all of our hearts by Hoover’s passing in March. We were all set to do it when we realized that we would be going on this long vacation and the fish would be unlikely to make it. So we put it off until our return and kept our plan a secret from the kids.
This morning at breakfast, we told them that we had a “super special surprise” in store after the grocery shopping. They began to badger us and to guess, of course: “Ice cream?” “A swimming pool?” “Our boxes are coming?” Milo, little minx, actually asked, “Is it a new pet?” I dodged the question by responding: “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea since we’re just here for a year and pets are hard to travel with.” “It might die by he time we leave,” Milo suggested sort of hopefully.
Many hours and two carts loaded with groceries later, we steered them into the pet shop and announced that the super special surprise was that they could each pick out a fish. They rewarded us appropriately with shouts of “Hooray!” and much clapping and jumping up and down. I squatted down with them to help them choose their fish while Alec talked to the pet store lady to figure out what we would need—a little food, we figured, and something with which to clean the bowl. Maybe a net for when we changed the water.
I was partly right. After his conversation, Alec called me over to say that, first, he needed to back into Carrefour to buy distilled water… for the fish. Also, the pet store lady had told him that, with a bowl the size of ours and with no filter, we’d have to change the water every day or every other day max. Mind you, these are garden variety gold fish---the kind you get for a buck at your school carnival. I never remember changing the water more than every couple of weeks when I had them as a kid, and we certainly didn’t have a ginormicous tank for them. Then again, all of my goldfish died pretty quickly back then. Still, there was no way I was about to change their water every other day. “Don’t you think she’s being a bit conservative?” I asked Alec. “I actually think she really cares about these fish,” he said.
The kids had already chosen their fish (see photo below—the yellow one is C.C.’s and the speckled one is Milo’s) and were discussing names, so it was too late to turn back. For a moment, I actually walked over to the gerbil cage and silently considered whether I could handle living with a rodent. The answer is no. So we bought the tank, the gravel, the water---the filter is actually arriving tomorrow, so someone has to drive all the way back to the Carrefour place to pick it up.
After we set up the tank, Milo pulled a chair up in front of it and spent an hour just watching the fish, while C.C. ran to her art table and used her new colored pencils to draw their portraits. And I sat back and almost forgot that we had just spent well north of 100 euros for a surprise we thought would cost us 10 euros at most.
The first time Alec and I went there, weeks ago, leaving the kids with Myron and Raquel, we spied a pet store across the way from Carrefour in the same mall, and decided to bring home a couple of fish for the kids. I had seen a fishbowl type thing at the apartment that I thought would do nicely for their home, and it seemed like an inexpensive way to score a lot of points with the wee ones. We also figured it would help ease the transition and also fill a tiny bit of the enormous hole left in all of our hearts by Hoover’s passing in March. We were all set to do it when we realized that we would be going on this long vacation and the fish would be unlikely to make it. So we put it off until our return and kept our plan a secret from the kids.
This morning at breakfast, we told them that we had a “super special surprise” in store after the grocery shopping. They began to badger us and to guess, of course: “Ice cream?” “A swimming pool?” “Our boxes are coming?” Milo, little minx, actually asked, “Is it a new pet?” I dodged the question by responding: “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea since we’re just here for a year and pets are hard to travel with.” “It might die by he time we leave,” Milo suggested sort of hopefully.
Many hours and two carts loaded with groceries later, we steered them into the pet shop and announced that the super special surprise was that they could each pick out a fish. They rewarded us appropriately with shouts of “Hooray!” and much clapping and jumping up and down. I squatted down with them to help them choose their fish while Alec talked to the pet store lady to figure out what we would need—a little food, we figured, and something with which to clean the bowl. Maybe a net for when we changed the water.
I was partly right. After his conversation, Alec called me over to say that, first, he needed to back into Carrefour to buy distilled water… for the fish. Also, the pet store lady had told him that, with a bowl the size of ours and with no filter, we’d have to change the water every day or every other day max. Mind you, these are garden variety gold fish---the kind you get for a buck at your school carnival. I never remember changing the water more than every couple of weeks when I had them as a kid, and we certainly didn’t have a ginormicous tank for them. Then again, all of my goldfish died pretty quickly back then. Still, there was no way I was about to change their water every other day. “Don’t you think she’s being a bit conservative?” I asked Alec. “I actually think she really cares about these fish,” he said.
The kids had already chosen their fish (see photo below—the yellow one is C.C.’s and the speckled one is Milo’s) and were discussing names, so it was too late to turn back. For a moment, I actually walked over to the gerbil cage and silently considered whether I could handle living with a rodent. The answer is no. So we bought the tank, the gravel, the water---the filter is actually arriving tomorrow, so someone has to drive all the way back to the Carrefour place to pick it up.
After we set up the tank, Milo pulled a chair up in front of it and spent an hour just watching the fish, while C.C. ran to her art table and used her new colored pencils to draw their portraits. And I sat back and almost forgot that we had just spent well north of 100 euros for a surprise we thought would cost us 10 euros at most.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)