Yes, Doudou, sounds like doo doo. Big fat doo doo. Ok obviously I have young boys. Mons holds a giant festival every June called the Doudou, and it's this enormous production about a boy slaying a dragon. It's a huge deal. Houses are flying special flags for this. It starts tomorrow and already it ruined my much anticipated girls night out. Not that I was looking forward to it or anything after two solid weeks of solo parenting. (I realize this is nothing in comparison to what many go through. Believe me, I am still having flashbacks to that year.) Today was the last day of school, I had a sitter come over, the kids were chipper and I was for once not too tired to go out on a week night. So, I leave my typical ten minutes late and giddily drive myself down to Mons to meet up with a great group of ladies. I am advised on where to park. Between British Jill GPS and my keen sense of direction I am able to locate the Grand Place. And notice it's just a little bit crazy in there. People walking in from all directions. Cars parked bumper to bumper and illegally in driveways. These are tiny cars too mind you, not like the enormous and obnoxious in comparison Honda minivan. I circle parking lots. I circle and circle and tell myself to circle once more. Nothing. I move on and get honked at by tiny car driving men who don't seem to like my big mama minivan cutting them off. Ooooh, sorry little guy. I head back in toward the Grand Place because I am optimistic by nature (yes, I really am so shut it) and very hopeful that just as I pull into the perfect parking lot that is not the train station or what appears to be a crack dealer's domain, that a large SUV or even a euro party bus will be pulling out just for me. No, no, and no. Apparently everyone else is hoping for the same thing because there are at least eight cars in front of me at any given time. And they are all tiny and stand a much better chance of actually fitting. Can you say frustrating? And to hear "we have a bottle of wine waiting!" on the other end of the phone as I voice my frustration and concern was too much. I gave this parking endeavor an hour and said screw it. I drove off sulking a little and wondering what on earth I would eat for dinner now that I had Italian in my head. As I got further away from the Grand Place madness it occurred to me that I had a sitter for a while and that I needed to not be home to put the kids to bed. Why wouldn't I want to do that? Don't I love my children? You try putting kids to bed night after night when the sun is still shining it's bright pretty face in your giant windows the size of garage doors until well after 10pm. It's not fun and yes I do love my kids but everyone needs a break. So the adventurous side that has been hiding lately comes out and convinces me to check out that cute Italian restaurant on the way home. It's out in the middle of nowhere and I'd never heard anything about it but thought why not...so in I go and stumble through my French that's getting nowhere and ask for a take out menu. Yum yum. I order. I sit down and wait and see the real menu. Now that's what I am talking about! I order again. I wait and chat with Brian in Germany and voila! There's my dinner! I rush home, pay the sitter, listen to Kate retell the entire movie "Tangled", scratch Sam's back for a half hour and convince Matthew it's time to say goodnight to Harry Potter. An hour later I select a bottle from our dwindling Umbrian wine collection and dump some of that ridiculously delicious smelling pasta into a bowl. Somehow this night turned out to be quite alright! I still won't be doing the doudou.
Check it out...
Well after further reading about the Doudou on the above link I'm thinking it looks really fun and maybe we'll be insane enough to brave it on Sunday when Brian is back. Plague? Shrines? Dragons? Beer? Tres interesant je crois!
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