Apparently, moving house is one of the top three most stressful events in your life, the other two likely being getting married and getting divorced. Moving house for us has been a long process; we left our home in Jalan Damansara almost a year ago. In between, we've slept in many different beds over several continents, and reached our final destination in late summer. We were in a furnished apartment for a while with the Notre Dame watching over us.
The logistics for our move was a little complicated; we had our things from Malaysia shipped to Bordeaux for storage, at my father in law's summer property while we looked for our apartment. The shipment was delayed, thus delaying our arrival in Paris.
A week after we arrived in Paris, we heard from my father in law's gardener/carpenter/handyman that the beam supporting the roof in the garage was about to give way. All our belongings were directly below this beam. I told myself they were only things, replaceable. What mattered was my carton of soya sauce.
The beam was repaired. We found our apartment. We've enjoyed the terrace and the view over the Seine and the Notre Dame, but we were ready to settle in permanently.
With the girls spending the week with their aunt and cousins near the beach, JB and I went off to Bordeaux to sort out our cartons. We were grateful for the 'good' weather. We almost slept with our gloves on, but at least it didn't rain.
The weekend of our move, Tea celebrated her 7th birthday. A week earlier she invited a few friends over for a little party including a boy in her class whom she likes very much and who apparently likes her back. He said he wouldn't come, because there would be too many girls, and returned her invitation.
She came home and handed me the invitation, totally unperturbed. I said ' Why don't you ask him one more time and explain to him there will be other boys at the party'. She shook her finger at me and said (in French, so this is a rough translation) "No mama. You know, with boys you cannot do that. They will think you are stubborn. If he doesn't want to come, too bad for him". I was stunned as I looked at her in awe. I think 'stubborn' was her word for 'desperate'. I'm glad she's got it figured out!
So we had a fun (fun for the kids, exhausting for the parents) little party with cake and lots of lollies and played Pin the Donkey's Tail. There were other boys at party and Tea shed no tears for her amoreux.
This is the living room of our new apartment (I posted a picture of the kitchen a couple of weeks ago). We are still living admist cartons (am taking a break from unpacking to write this post), but we are starting to feel at home.