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The restaurant that is Isabelle
By ella | March 21, 2005
We have a housekeeper here. She is a bustling French woman called Isabelle who makes beds, cleans up (but not the children’s toys, so often I can’t tell) and cooks. Oh God, she cooks! Of all the things I hate most about being a stay at home mum it’s planning, shopping for and preparing food. Sometimes even eating the food I’ve planned, shopped for and prepared becomes a chore when that kind of labour is involved.
My husband is a live-to-eat person. I am so an eat-to-live kinda gal, unless Matthew cooks or takes me out, when I transform into a live-to-eat kinda gal (and sometimes the kind of girl that wears heels). When he is away I will pick at the children’s leftovers and call it supper; I can’t be bothered with anything more. When he is home I know Matthew will prepare a feast yet I will still eat the children’s leftovers. And then have supper.
It’s gluttonous.
And then I have the cheek to blame him for the fact that I still haven’t lost all my pregnancy weight FROM NEARLY TWO YEARS AGO.
Now we’re in France, I can blame Isabelle. Every day Isabelle rustles up the most wonderful dishes from ingredients I barely even recognise. The children eat everything on their plates, everytime. And so do I.
Still, at least there are no leftovers for me to finish off.
Aside from being directly responsible for my weight gain every time I come here, Isabelle also relieves me of much of my daily choredom. The children and I have more time to play together. There is the space and weather to run around. They are happier. I am happier.
And if I wasn’t worried about getting fat, I think I might never go home.
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Categories: Playtime
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