Mother's/Groundhog Day

Mother's Day in Paris, and the question is raised: Is it possible to be overappreciated?

We have marked on our American calendar that Mother's Day is May 13, and so on that day, Anthony and the girls present me with a lovely plant, complete with a colorful little stuffed bird nestled among the leaves. The plant is intended for a pot that's been sitting empty, into which I once almost transplanted a lush-looking palm I found on the patio, till Anthony finally informed me it was fake. This should give you a clue about the level of my botanical expertise, so you may not be surprised to know that I do not get around to transplanting and watering this Mother's Day real plant until it is, sadly, too late. The good news it that it has dried rather nicely.

 

You would think this blatant negligence would not only kill the plant but any impulse the girls might feel to give me Mother's Day presents, but you would be wrong. It turns out that Mother's Day in France is not until June 3. About a week before that, Gigi comes home from school with a gift, but she's too excited to wait until the actual day. So, on May 27, I am given Mother's Day present #2, which is a lovely dish she made in class and a very sweet poem she wrote.

 

Not to be outdone, Pippa also comes home with a school-made Mother's Day present (#3), a book that they've been working on all year, with pictures and entries in it. It is also contains a poem mentioning that my favorite color is -- as you may have guessed by now -- orange, which is not-coincidentally the color she has painted the cover of the book. She can't wait till Sunday June 3rd, either, and gives it to me on Saturday the 2nd.

 

On Saturday night, the girls both sleep at a friend's apartment. Anthony picks them up, and on their walk home, they buy me present #4, which is a pretty bouquet of roses, orange of course.

And finally, tonight, the girls and I are invited to a Mother's Day show and treat held at the Mairie du 5ème arrondissement (the city hall of the 5th, located in the shadow of the Panthéon). The show is a story teller telling the (only slightly Disney-influenced) tale of Aladdin. As with so many events for mothers, it turns out it's really more for the kids -- I mean, it's not like it's Colin Firth on stage, or anything. However, Gigi gets picked by a staff member to introduce the show to the audience of about 200-300 people. She does this in a French so perfect, I don't think anybody could know she is American. This, to me, is the ultimate proof of the success of a now 9-year project to make our girls bilingual! During the show, the story teller chooses one child from the audience to dance on stage with her, based on their belly dancing in the audience. Those of you who know my sister Lisa, a belly dancing fanatic, will not be surprised to hear that her protegée Gigi gets picked for this, too.

  

  

At the end, we get pastries, cakes, and juices as our treat, and even a couple white roses (Mother's Day gift #5), which we mix in with the orange bouquet.

 

 

I am thinking that rarely, if ever, has a mother been so fêted, simply for being a mother. If I had my own magic lamp and genie, these would be my three motherly wishes:

1) the continued health and happiness of my children.

2) a little less competition between the girls ("But she got to go on stage twice!" "Well, she got 3 pastries, and I only had two!""But she got to play the computer game this morning, and I didn't!" etc.).

3) no more Mother's Day celebrations till next year!