midnight mommies

Once you land on the European continent, each and every shrill scream that can be heard from your child’s mouth when she is angry and the “cute” tendency to knock things over and act like a lummox in a china shop will go from dwelling at the level of partially manageable to driving you totally insane.

The start to our trip to France for a month couldn’t have been less glamorous, but I was willing to suck it up. We were going to not just Europe, but France. Birthplace of impressionism, a culture where a glass of wine cost less than a glass of juice, home to camembert and the nutella crepe. The place I had fallen in love with 16 years ago, when I studied there in college.