C’est moi. Self-portrait of the French Twisted Woman.
Bienvenue and welcome. My New Year’s Resolution was to begin this blog on January 1, and as usual, I am running behind. By about a month. So February 1 it will be.
The blog name came about because A) I wear my hair in a French Twist, on occasion; B) I love French Style; and C) my husband, my friends, and definitely my kids, will tell you that I am a bit twisted at times. But in a fun this-is-how-we-would-do-it-if-we-were-living-in-France way, not in a bad way!
I am a former PR/Marketing pro who took the leap 10 years ago and left the corner office with windows in the city to stay at home with the kids in the woods – and I haven’t looked back since. Well, honestly, I do occasionally gaze backwards, longingly, over my shoulder in the direction of my closet. I donated all of my suits to the local women’s shelter, but I still have a collection of shoes that haven’t seen the light of day in years. And I’m having trouble letting the shoes go, not because they are extremely beautiful and well-made shoes, but because of what they represent – my former life. At home now, my footwear consists mostly of Uggs and Merrell Mocs for seven months of trudging through snow, mud, leaves and general muck, and sturdy flip flops from LL Bean or Land’s End in the summer, because by the time summer is here my feet want to be as far away from shearling and suede as possible. Don’t be alarmed. When I go in to town, I wear my nice boots or French Sole flats because if you have to get out and walk across a gravel parking lot with big stones or deep puddles, it’s just not good for your shoes! I digress…this is not a blog about shoes.
When I look back to the 10-hour workdays, I do also miss going out for lunch with colleagues. I could open the menu and have whatever sounded delicious. Now when I want delicious, I have to shop for it, prepare it and serve it. It may still be delicious, but somehow, it’s not quite the same lunch-fun. I also miss the fact that I was able to be creative and I was compensated for that, and revered. For creativity at home, I am usually rewarded with an exasperated sigh from my husband and eye-rolling, lots of eye-rolling, from the kids.
And I miss the fact that I could complete a project, on time. At home, I am lucky if I can get through a complete sentence or a thought without interruption, whether the interruption comes from one of the kids or from within my head. Just yesterday, on the way to the laundry room, I saw a handprint on the wall. I said to myself, “If I don’t clean it now, I’ll forget.” Put the laundry basket down. Go downstairs to get the cleaner. The phone rang so I decide to fix lunch while talking. Start heating something and the dryer buzzes announcing that the load is dry. Run upstairs toward the laundry room with the wall cleaner in one hand, phone in the other and trip over the laundry basket left in the hall earlier by me as the scent of something beginning to char on the stove wafts past my nose. Oh yes, where was I? Interrupted and apparently I do miss my work life, at least un petite peu.
Back to me. I am a stay-at-home-mom with a passion for most things French – the style, the cuisine, Paris and Provence. (The French Sole shoes I just love because they’re great shoes although the purchase of my original pair may have been a result of the word “French” in the name. And we’re back to the shoes.) This blog is about my life as I attempt to remain poised and graceful, with French Style in my Uggs in Podunk. Bonne Chance!
This post has become so much longer than I anticipated. If I don’t finish now, my first post will end up being in March. And I have much more to share. Thanks so much for reading.
French Twisted Woman
P.S. PLEASE leave a comment when you visit. I want to know that I’m not on this journey alone.