the pieces of my life

First off, we’re home late because we have to go to instrument pick-up, which is the definition of clusterf*ck, with seven elementary schools picking up instruments at the middle school. The smallest size viola… is still a smidgen big for my peanut. But it’s okay. Because I learned tonight what “I liked the sound of the viola better” means. It means “when they demonstrated instruments at school, they played the theme to Star Wars on the viola.” Marketing works, folks!

We get home and I tell the boy to get himself into bed. He does, and then I get a phone call from the mom of a classmate. “J. doesn’t have the complete list of spelling words. He only has the first twelve. Can you give me the other twelve?”

To which I, of course, replied, “What list?”

She said, “For tomorrow’s spelling test.”

To which I, of course, replied, “What test?”

I go upstairs and tell my boy to tear himself away from his Calvin and Hobbes book. “What’s up with this spelling list?”

Boy: Huh?
Me: You have a list of spelling words?
Boy: Oh, yeah. I didn’t take it home. I have all the words memorized.
Me: Oh, really? I just happen to have half the list of words. Spell “quiet.”
Boy: Q-u-i-t.
I raise my eyebrows.
Boy: Uh… e!
Me: No.
Me: Spell “giant.”
Boy: G-i-e… No, a! No, e! No, a! n-t.
Me: Spell “cease” as in “cease and desist.”
Boy: S-e-a-c-e.
Me: No.
Boy: S-e-a-s-e.
Me: No.
Boy: S-e—
Me: No.
Boy: S—
Me: No.
Boy: S—
Me: No!
Boy: S?
Me: No!
Boy: C-e-a-c—
Me: No.
Boy: C-e-a-s-e.
Me: Yes.
Boy: Got it!

He’s his father’s child. Always certain, often wrong.

Am I the only one who gets teary eyed at Schoolhouse Rock? Seriously! Every time that Bill becomes a Law, I just want to weep in happiness for him.

The pressure in not blogging very often is that when I finally do blog, I know you all think I’m going to have something interesting to say. But very often—okay, always—I don’t. So then you just have to hear about what’s on my mind. And, oh, there are many things on my mind! For instance:

Adam and I play this little game. The recycling bin fills up to the point where we can’t close the garbage drawer. So someone pulls it out of the drawer. And we leave it in the middle of the kitchen. And continue to fill it. It’s like Jenga, in reverse. Who can add on the most without the pile toppling over? And who’s going to be chicken, finally taking the recycling out? Last time, it was me. Next time, I won’t give in so easily.

My son, who has Hebrew school three days a week, (soon) hockey twice a week, drums once a week, Cub Scouts every other week, has now decided he’s going to take up the viola. The viola. I had to look it up. I mean, who the hell knows what a viola is? Why not the violin? “The viola makes a better sound.” Let’s try him in a blind listening test. I don’t think he’d be able to tell the viola from, oh, I don’t know, a garbage truck.

My daughter is coming up with yet more creative ways to get out of going to sleep. “My arm hurts! My eye hurts! Mommy, let’s make out!” [Making out being our snuggle time with lots of kisses] Pie is currently working on being “brave and independent.” Uh, yeah.

Speaking of my daughter, she said to me, “I’m reading level M books! I can read Junie B. Jones!” I asked her, “Were you tested on level M books?” quite surprised. Level M is the beginning of 3rd grade reading. My little first grader is a great reader, but an age-appropriate reader. Last anyone checked, Pie was solidly on the end of kindergarten/beginning of 1st grade level. So I asked again, “Someone tested you on Level M books?” She happily replied, “Yes!” Very surprised, I said, “Who tested you on Level M books?” She rolled her eyes. “Me, Mommy! I tested myself! I can read Level M books!” Sigh. And now comes the process of “managing expectations.”

My son is not immune to problems. Last Wednesday he said to me, “School is boring. I’m not going today.” I tried to ascertain if something had happened, but no, it was simply boring and he wasn’t going. “Okay,” I said logically. “Everyone needs a mental health day every now and then. And if you need one, you can take one. However, in March, when you truly need a mental health day and want to take one, I’m going to say, ‘No, because you took a mental health day ON THE FIFTH DAY OF SCHOOL, YOU TOTAL DOLT!'” Shockingly, the boy decided to go to school. Boredom and all.

A friend and I went to see John Irving speak the other night. He read from his next book, which will be out next year, and it definitely intrigued me. But I enjoyed when he talked about writing, how he plots out every part of his book before he starts so he knows exactly what will happen and just needs to worry about language. An interesting way of looking at it. I want to try that on my next book, for which I have some pretty strong ideas but no formally written plot yet. But then he said things like, “I think writing in the present tense is lazy” and “I don’t like most modern writing” and it made me happy that literary curmudgeons still exist today.

After school this afternoon, my son said, “I’m so happy! We have homework and it’s due tomorrow!” I said, “Really? That’s great!” He looked at me with third-grade eyes, and said, “Duh, Mom! That was sarcasm!” Gee, how did I miss that?

I e-mailed an author I like to see if she’d blurb my novel, and she e-mailed me back to have my agent send it to her agent. How exciting is that! She basically told me, “Have your people call my people,” and, I HAVE PEOPLE! Life throws you a bone every now and then.

Even if today, I’m still just a Bill.

Ah, the first day of school. The little ones left. The not-so-little one bounded out the door, “By mom!” and I had to run to keep up with him. “Third grade is going to be cool!” he declared. The little-little one clung to my leg, sobbing, and had to be pried off by the principal and her teacher from last year. “I don’t want to go to first grade!” she cried.

And so it begins. The stress. The anxiety. The carpools. Tuesdays will be a real whammy with my delivering two children to Hebrew school and then another three to dance class. Yea, mini-van!

In the meantime, I’m a deer in the headlights, with so many things piled up—both literally (ack! Don’t even look at my desk) and figuratively—that I don’t know which way to turn. I have to write some comps for my agent, start the school newsletter, revive my committee at the synagogue, plan for Sunday’s eight-year-old animal birthday party, and generally do all the things that didn’t get done because I’ve had a child with me for the past, oh seven weeks solidly and a whole bunch of half days before that when the two had camp. Today is my first day alone in months and… well, to tell the truth, it’s a little lonely. But before I know it I’ll be back in the swing of things.

So, clearly, the first thing on my to-do list is procrastinate. Let me tell you what we’ve been up to!

• We had a whirlwind weekend in NYC with the grandparents. We went to the Intrepid, MOMA, the Strand (three times for me!), and ate a whole bunch.
• We are finally having our basement floor redone (remember those floods a year and a half ago? Well a year and a half of wet floors can cause a whole bunch of mold. Ew, I don’t even want to think what was under there!) so there are tile guys making lots of noise and coming in and out.
• And the most insane thing? Let me ask you, what kind of freakin’ idiot has a birthday party in the middle of a Tropical Storm? Oh, right. Us. Yes, Pie had her Little House on the Prairie party in the middle—the absolute middle!—of Tropical Storm Irene. But those brave parents didn’t mind. Out of 13 guests, only two decided not to brave the weather. We lost power for about fifteen minutes, but hey! No problem! There IS no power on the prairie! But it turned out well with indoor potato sack races, making butter and rag dolls, playing pin the wheel on the wagon.

Now I leave behind my summer of relaxation and get back to the grindstone. That outline for the next novel isn’t going to write itself. Where’s the Novel Fairy when you need her?

This is my last Paris post. Sorry for those who aren’t Francophiles.

The books for the kids were key. We read tons before we left and while on the trip, and it gave the kids things to look for and focus on. Tons of these books are at the library, lots are available used, and some we simply splurged on. Of course there are many more, but these are the ones we read and used and that, in the next month, I’ll forget, so here they are:

Guidebooks
Fodor’s Around Paris with Kids, 4th Edition (Around the City with Kids) : This was the guide book I used the most. A few misses, but mostly great information with helpful suggestions of places to eat near each sight.
Paris: While We’re Young: An interesting book in that it puts together a complete itinerary based on history instead of geography for you as well as gives you the history you need to know. As clever as it was, this was the book I used the least.
City Walks: Paris, Revised Edition: 50 Adventures on Foot: This is a series of walks printed on individual cards. Very handy to pull out the card for the day and just stick it in my bag as a “just in case.” We followed a couple of them and it was fun.
Rick Steves’ Paris 2011: The best guidebook for all-over traveling. Great food suggestions, nice walks, great for picking out the “must-sees.”

Books on France
These were great for background on the country before we left and gave us things to focus on (Must try that food! Want to see that historical sight!)
First Book of France
Find Out About France: Learn French Words and Phrases and About Life in France (Find Out About Books)
The Inside-Outside Book of Paris

Books on Artists
Having read about some of the artists before seeing the work made the work much more interesting to Pie. The big disappointment of the trip is that the Musee Picasso was under renovation so we couldn’t visit.
Van Gogh (Getting to Know the World’s Great Artists)
Vincent Van Gogh: Sunflowers and Swirly Stars
Degas (Getting to Know the World’s Great Artists) : We used these mostly when we went to Provence. The town we stayed in—Saint Remy de Provence—is where Van Gogh’s insane asylum is located.
Monet (Getting to Know the World’s Great Artists) : Great before the Orangerie.
The Boy Who Bit Picasso (which is now Pie’s all time favorite book)
Paris in the Spring with Picasso
Chasing Degas
Degas and the Little Dancer

History
The history books were more for the boy just because of his reading level and his interests. One of my favorite things was when the boy would surprise me at a particular place with some bit of history that he had read.
Paris 1789: A Guide to Paris on the Eve of the Revolution (Sightseers Essential Travel Guides to the Past): Really cute way of presenting history of the Revolution.
You Wouldn’t Want to Be a Crusader!: A War You’d Rather Not FightYou Wouldn’t Want to Be an Aristocrat in the French Revolution!: A Horrible Time in Paris You’d Rather Avoid
You Wouldn’t Want to Be Joan of Arc!: A Mission You Might Want to Miss: The “You Wouldn’t Want” series is a funny look at different points of history (there are many, many more). Doodles read and reread these books throughout the trip.
France (Horrible Histories)
Measly Middle Ages (Horrible Histories): The Horrible Histories we discovered on the trip and they have every gross-out historical fact to make a kid happy.

Stories
Madeline: “In an old house in Paris covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines….”
Dodsworth in Paris: A nice early reader.
Postmark Paris: A Story in Stamps
The Invention of Hugo Cabret: Don’t be intimidated by the size of this book. Much of it is incredible illustration.
Charlotte in Paris: There’s a Giverny version of the book as well.
The Hunchback of Notre-Dame (Classic Starts Series) by Victor Hugo: An abridged version of the classic. The boy liked it so much, I was sorry I didn’t also get him the Les Miserables version.
Nicholas by Rene Goscinny
A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver by E. L. Konigsburg: This was the surprise of the trip. I didn’t think Doodles would read this, and he loved it!

Happy reading!

I know most of you are sick of hearing about France, so for you guys, just skip this and the next post. But for those of you who have e-mailed me or Facebooked me and said, “I want to get ideas from you for when we go to Paris with our kid(s),” I wanted to get all my thoughts down in one place that I could refer back to. So that is this.

**The first day will be a disaster. Expect it. Prepare for it. It’s a six-hour flight and a six-hour time difference, so when you arrive at 7:30 in the morning, your kids will be exhausted. Check in at our hotel was 2 p.m. We dropped off our luggage, went out for breakfast, and then went to play at the Jardin du Luxemborg. A late afternoon nap got them pretty much on schedule.

**Don’t fear the French. Not the people. The language. My kids could spit out a “Merci” if under duress, but that was the extent of their knowledge. Adam and I had minimal French but not enough for any real conversation. That said, we went to a few things that were in French only and still thoroughly enjoyed them.

—The marionette (which is “puppet” in French, and not necessarily the marionnette dolls we think of with strings) show in the Jardins du Luxemborg are completely in French, but the stories are familiar enough that the kids enjoyed them.
—The Musee de Magie is a museum of magic that has a show that’s all in French. The Double Fond is also a magic show entirely in French. But magic is magic and you don’t have to understand the banter to be wowed by the tricks.

—Lots of places had demonstrations—a gladiator show in Arles, a catapult demonstration in La Boux—that had no English, but again, who needs English when things are being launched in the air or men in strange get-ups are swinging at each other with swords and nets.

**The key to museums for us was a sketchbook and drawing set that we gave each child. They decorated their sketchbooks before we left with Paris pictures to get them in the mood. Then, in each museum, they happily stopped to sketch, which meant one parent could explore the room they were sketching in and the other could even go a bit farther. People took as many pictures of our kids sketching as they did of the art work!

**Set your expectations low. Buy a museum pass so you don’t feel that you just spent 10 Euros on an hour at the Louvre. Also, the museum pass lets you skip the ticket buyers line, which will save a lot of headache. At each museum, we had one or two goals. Anything else we saw we considered at bonus. For instance, at the Louvre, we wanted to see the Mona Lisa and a vase that Doodles had read about in A Proud Taste for Scarlet and Miniver by E. L. Konigsburg that Eleanor of Aquitaine had been given by Louis VII on their marriage. (We asked for help finding the vase at the information desk, and once the woman figured out my pronunciation of “Eleanor of Aquitaine,” she was extremely nice in helping us to locate it; I think she was happy that someone was looking for something other than the Mona Lisa). At the Musee D’Orsay, Pie wanted to see the Degas ballerina with the peach ribbon from her book Degas and the Little Dancer.

**Throw out any normal expectations of healthy eating. Some nights, it’s just better to have chocolate sorbet (from Martine Lambert, of course!) for dinner. One child pretty much lived on pasta with butter; the other on steak Hachette, which is a burger—no bun—and fries. Note the French default to rare meat unless you tell them otherwise.

**Buy your ticket to the Eifel Tower before you even leave the USA. You can print out a ticket and boy does it make the day soooo much better! The lines for tickets snake for hours. Our prepurchased ticket had a time to show up, and we waited for about 15 minutes. Once on top of the Eifel Tower, do the Follow Gus activity with your child—it’s a cute way to learn about the Tower.

**Hannah Montana dubbed in French is as annoying as Hannah Montana in English, but at least you can pretend your kids are learning some of the language.

**Keep a stock of Euros for carousels. Carousels are everywhere and they are a fabulous bribe. “If you can walk across that bridge because your parents would like to walk instead of taking a subway, you can ride the carousel over there!”

So, the highlights with the kids:

• A Bateau Parisianne cruise on the Seine
• Going up the Eifel Tower
• Going up the Arc de Triomphe
• Watching the Eifel Tower light show (at the top of the hour, after dusk, which in the summer is about 10 p.m.)
• The Louvre
• The Musee D’Orsay
• Shopping the street markets
• The Invalides (Army museum where Napoleon’s tomb is)
• The Orangerie (Monet’s water lilies)
• Musee Rodin
• The Musee de Magie
• Shopping at Printemps; window shopping at the more expensive Galleries de Lafeyette
• Macaroons at Pierre Herme
• Climbing the stairs to Sacre Couer
• The Centre Pompidou at the Beaubourg
• Watching the street performers outside the Centre Pompidou

Things to skip (not many!):
• The Paris Story movie—overrated and really pretty boring
• Most flea markets in August (many things shut down in Paris in August so the markets were sparse; most of what we wanted to see, though, was open and it was a boon to my wallet that so many cute stores were closed). We went to one market that was a complete dud and one that was lively and fun—so just check!

If you’re really planning a trip, you can find a lot of my hotel/dining reviews on TripAdvisor (of course, as you probably know that’s where Adam works, so that’s where I do my reviewing).

Tomorrow I’ll post my kids’ book list for Paris, but in the meantime, Bon Voyage!

Here’s my secret. I’ve been lobbying hard for a move to New York City. I miss New York. When we moved to the East Coast, Adam had to choose between a Boston grad school and a New York grad school. We decided that we could have a better lifestyle in Boston, so when he got into a Boston school, he withdrew his New York applications. It was the right move at the time and I’m glad he chose a Boston school.

But now, now I’m done with Boston. And let’s be clear: We don’t live in Boston; we live in the ‘burbs. And it’s a fabulous ‘burb. I have great friends, it’s a terrific community, and I couldn’t be more pleased with my kids’ school. But that said, I want a city. And I don’t think Boston is a city. Boston is a city lite. Spelling intentional.

My first choice of cities is Paris. The girl is on board. The boy is not, and Adam keeps mumbling things like, “Job. Money. Supporting ourselves.” I’m not sure what he means by that. My second choice city is New York. Where Adam could actually find a job. But here the holdout is, again, the boy. As a child I moved around enough to not want to subject my children to it unless they are willing participants.

“If you want a city, why don’t we move to Boston?” the boy asked. “It’s like a mini-New York!”

“I don’t want a mini,” I told him. “I want the real thing.”

So I’ve shelved the idea of New York, even though I had already lined up a bunch of open houses to look at while we are in NYC (I found a great deal on a condo in Murray Hill!).

Until… the boy gave me a glimmer of hope. My father, the boy, and I went to the Intrepid Museum of Sea, Air, and Space today (although the boy said, “Wouldn’t a museum of air and space be empty?”) and then we walked to Times Square.

And we entered the Toys R Us. The Times Square Toys R Us. And the boy was sold. “Wow!” he said as he walked through Candyland. “Wow!” he said as he walked through the area where they take your photo. “Wow!” he said as he walked through the demonstrations of toys.

“Do you want to move here now?” I whispered in his ear.

And as he eyed the indoor Ferris wheel going around, he whispered back, “Maybe…”

Anyone want to buy a house in the ‘burbs of Boston? I’m sure Adam will find a job sooner or later….

Reading your own work is painful. Reading it multiple times is akin to water torture.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not talking about revising. I’ve grown to really love the revision process. Revision is welcome because the bones of the piece are down. I don’t have to worry about “where is this going” and “what happens next.” True, these things sometimes change in revision, but the structure is there and the revision process is simply to make it better. The best revising is when you get great feedback (my agent worked miracles with her suggestions!) and can see the improvements as you’re going. It’s exciting, it’s invigorating, it’s intoxicating.

No, I’m talking about rereading when it’s a done deal. When it’s in print and ready to go, or even worse, out there for the world.

I recently received the page proofs for the essay I have coming out in Bellevue Literary Review this fall. (Page proofs are your story typeset and laid out, so you can simply check for typos.) When you see your pages, there’s an initial feeling of elation. “Look! It’s my name! In print!” And then you start reading your work. First of all, when I’m done with a piece, truly done, I disconnect from it. It represents a different time and place for me, and it’s always strange to revisit it, as if going to a high school reunion and trying to reconnect with friends from whom you were once inseparable. It’s never quite the same. Second of all, revision never ends. But page proofs are too late to be making changes, so even if you think, “Oh, it would be better if it said QRS instead of XYZ,” unless it’s an actual error, it’s too late.

The thing with submitting stories and essays is that, generally, I don’t. Many writers create pieces and send them off. I tell myself that I’ll do that, too, because that’s the best way to get published. But I don’t usually work that way. I write a piece. I leave it. I edit it. I leave it. I edit it. And at some point I forget about it. Then, if I happen to see–on a Web site, in the back of Poets and Writers, through a friend–a good fit for the piece, I’ll remember it and submit it. But because of that, I often submit things that are older. The piece that’s coming out now is an older piece, written about traveling before I was married, when kids weren’t even a tiny thought yet. So looking back is odd, trying to remember who I was at that time.

Don’t get me wrong: I still like the piece. I’m very excited it’s going to be published. And I hope you’ll read it. But now you’ll understand why I won’t.

Me: So, what was today?

The girl: My birthday.

Me: How do you know?

The girl: Because I got birthday presents.

Me: You did?

The girl: Yeah. Also my mommy told me.

Me: How did you spend your birthday?

The girl: I went raspberry picking. I played on a playground. I went out for lunch. I came home and chilled out with Jasmine. I had Mr. Sushi for dinner. And then I had cake. And then I opened presents. And now I’m going to go to bed.

Me: What do you like to do these days?

The girl: Wellll….there’s nothing I really like to do. I just do anything I can do.

Me: Like what?

The girl: Like any days I’ll just play with something in my room and there’s lots of different stuff.

Me: What kind of stuff?

The girl: Like my American Girl doll. That’s pretty much what I like.

Me: What are your favorite books?

The girl: That’s a hard one. I like Critter. I like a bunch. I don’t have a particular.

Me: What are your favorite things to watch?

The girl: I like A.N.T. Farm. I like Shake It Up. I like Word World. Phineas and Ferb. That’s pretty much.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

The girl: I don’t really… I think I’m going to be a writer.

Me: What kind of writer?

The girl: Somebody who writes stories.

Me: What are you looking forward to in first grade?

The girl: I don’t really know much stuff so I can’t really say what I’m looking forward to.

Me: What are your goals as a six year old?

The girl: Try more stuff. Make friends. Have a better friendship with Daisies. Those are pretty much it right now.

Me: Any grand pronouncements?

The girl: What do you mean?

Me: Anything big you want to say?

The girl: Nope.

Me: Is that it? Anything else to say to your public?

The girl: Nope. What, you put “nope” on there? Why?

Me: What should I have put?

The girl: Okay, fine. You can do “nope.”

Me: You can go to sleep now.

The girl: Hey!

Me: Yeah?

The girl: Can I paint my nails tomorrow?

Me: Go to sleep!

Me: So, what’s today?

The boy: Today is Tuesday, August 23.

Me: Anything special about it?

The boy: It’s my birthday!

Me: How do you know?

The boy: I know because today I got to go Dunkin Donuts, which I never do, and I gotvpresents, and I know it’s my birthday because my mommy told me.

Me: What presents?

The boy: I’ve gotten a physics discovery science kit and I got a Greek myths book.

Me: Is that it?

The boy: Those are my presents so far. Yeah.

Me: Do you think more are coming?

The boy: Yes. Yes, I do.

Me: How can you be sure?

The boy: Because today I saw a box of presents under your bed.

Me: How do you know they aren’t for your sister’s birthday on Thursday?

The boy: I could tell by how they were wrapped.

Me: How would you tell?

The boy: There was some wrapped for boys and some for girls.

Me: Huh?

The boy: There was some with pink wrapping paper.

Me: I thought you liked pink.

The boy: I hate it.

Me: How will you be spending your birthday?

The boy: Doing science experiments.

Me: What are you working right now?

The boy: I’m working on a thing called “Change Your Ears Around.” [From 101 Great Science Experiments]

Me: We might go to a museum, too, right?

The boy: Yeah.

Me: What do you like to do these days?

The boy: What do I like to do these days? I don’t know.

Me: For fun.

The boy: I don’t know. Play with friends, I guess. Doing science stuff.

Me: What are your favorite books?

The boy: I don’t know.

Me: You’ve read a ton of books.

The boy: Yeah, so, I can’t remember some of them because I’ve read so many books. I like them all.

Me: What are a few things you’ve read recently.

The boy: I liked Hunchback of Notre Dame. I liked Alex Rider. I liked The Invention of Hugo Cabret. I also liked You Wouldn’t Want to be Joan of Arc: A Mission You Might Want to Miss. I liked the Horrible Histories books, too.

Me: What are your favorite things to watch?

The boy: Phineas and Ferb. Wipeout. Wizards of Waverly Place. A.N.T. Farm.

Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?

The boy: I want to be an engineer.

The girl: Seriously! That’s a bad idea.

Me: Why! It’s a good idea! Engineer is a terrific job.

The girl: No! Because you can’t go to the bathroom because you’re driving a train. You can’t just say, “I’m going to stop and go to the bathroom!”

The boy: Engineers get paid well.

Me: What kind of engineer?

The boy: I don’t know. Any kind of engineer.

The girl: A train engineer?

The boy: No. I meant a technical engineer.

The girl: Oh! So you can stop and go to the bathroom! That’s better. Okay. Mom, you can erase that.

The boy: Technical engineers get paid well.And it’s a fun job.

The girl: Yeah, better than train engineers. And you can go to the bathroom. You can’t go to the bathroom if you’re a train engineer.

The boy: You can go to the bathroom between stops.

Me: What are you looking forward to in third grade?

The boy: Having Mr. Schersten. Learning new stuff and being in a new class. I know we’re going to study the planets and math and that kind of stuff.

Me: Don’t you get a special day in third grade? Don’t I have to start sewing?

The boy: Oh, yeah! There’s Colonial Day. So we’re going to learn about history.

Me: Any grand pronouncements?

The boy: No. What’s a prouncement again?

Me: I explain this every year! Any big statements?

The boy: Yea! I’m eight!

Me: Is that it? Anything else to say to your public?

The boy: Good-bye! See you next year when I’m nine!

Coming home is a bitch. I don’t just mean that no one has a freshly baked flakey croissant and piping hot cafe au lait for me every morning. Nor do I just mean missing out on the lunchtime bottles of wine. And it’s not just daily visits to some of the most beautiful places in France—fields of sunflowers and lavender, galleries filled with art we’ve only read about, views of cityscapes.

It’s starting to run again after an almost three-week break. It’s realizing I now need to pay for those daily croissants. It’s single parenting while Adam returns to work. It’s three weeks till school starts, two birthday parties to plan, novel blurbs to beg for, a new novel to outline, school supplies to shop for, playdates, visits to parents, and all the other things that come with being home.

Today’s run was difficult. My bedroom smells no longer of the lavender soaps I brought home but of my muggy sweaty running clothes. The humid air has brought the return of my sinus headaches.

And yet, when I say, “Let’s move to Paris,” Adam looks at me funny and says, “Why?”

Why indeed?