We are back! One week in Paris with our 8 month old. As it turns out, we were not insane to attempt this feat. Despite my rock bottom expectations, it was a pretty terrific trip. (Take that, Jason Good! France after parenthood is not impossible — although I still think you’re hilarious). When the dust settles and the jet lag subsides, I’ll come back and tell you all about our adventures… the good (unseasonably beautiful weather! phenomenal shopping during perfectly-timed annuals sales! a mostly happy baby!); the bad (turns out infants are not the most patient dining companions for the 3 hours it takes to eat dinner in a French restaurant); and the ugly (food poisoning. Le sigh).
In the meantime, take this post as encouragement that just because you have your own adorable, bouncing baby ball and chain doesn’t mean you can’t [insert far-fetched dream here]. You can still pursue your dreams, just as long as you’re open minded about conducting said pursuit while covered in a little vomit.
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