Don't wake me

My (self employed) brother in law is taking a business trip to Europe this week, spending four days in Paris. Before he even asked for our input my husband and I bombarded him with questions- what are your plans? What are you going to see? Skip the Louvre, go to the Pompideau. The hotel we stayed at sucked but it was in the gay neighborhood and it was AWESOME. We were all over him. Clearly overwhelmed by our enthusiasm he said he didn't know, hadn't decided, etc, then quietly sent an email yesterday asking for any lodging recommendations we might have. When we couldn't sit in his lap and give him a ten minute lecture on what constitutes the perfect chocolate banana crepe and the best place to find one. (The Latin Quarter)

You would think that we were savvy world travelers, or francophone's or at least people who had spent a LONG TIME in France. We were none of the above. My husband and I both spent time there as single people and then made one long trip together before we were married, just like, um, I don't know, half of the population of the world, but even at our best, probably know enough about Paris to fit on a fingernail.

When my husband pulled up the Google Satellite feed to check out Notre Dame from the skies I literally had to look away. When I started searching for the street our hotel was on, the name of it now escaping me and the receipt tucked away in one of the many boxes in my basement, the image of the rooftops from the balcony of our room took my breath away.

I remember the stones in the street. The exact number of blocks to the cafe where we sat. I can't find my way out of paper bag but I remember the shop windows, how many rights we took to get to the metro station and the same park bench we returned to outside of Notre Dame, just sitting and looking, with nothing else more important to do than that. I remember every detail. I can't remember what I had for dinner last night but I remember it all. I was only one of many to it, but Paris has never left me. Even as I write this, thoughts and images bombard me. They are clear and vivid and feel like they just under the surface. Do you ever wake suddenly from a dream and feel that layer of sub-consciousness that only exists in your mind? It's so real. It's just like that. Right there.

Daycare now eats up the travel budget. The thought of the bags I would have to pack and the many hours of air travel in which I would have to endure entertaining a toddler gives me ulcers. I wish we were the kind of people that could pack a bag and our kid and fly off on an adventure, but we won't. We used to be adventurous. We used to be a lot of things. We're too tired for adventure. Too sleep deprived for jet lag, too frazzled to take on the unpredictable. Too desperate for the routine that keeps the screaming fits in check and tethers us in this stormy life we live.

I sent my brother in law a link to a hotel that comes highly recommended from a native I know. Then I sent it to my husband. We should go, I said, gazing at the stately gardens and statuesque building. We should, he wrote back, but we both understood that the we in this exchange was not us, not now. Before parenthood I always imagined we'd be parents who could travel. We did it with such ease. It's a surprise to me that we are not. One of many.

I know a new day will arrive when sleep comes more easily and an eight hour flight will seem much less daunting, but today, that's not enough.

So I close my eyes and dream of rooftops.   

Comments

[Dawn]

MMM. We went, the year after we were married. I have a photo of where we sat at a restaurant at the Gambetta Metro stop - It was my favorite part of the city, because it was clearly Paris and nowhere else.

[mayberry]

I think ages 1-3 is the worst time to travel with a kid. After that, you are gold. Your time will come, ma cherie!

[Kate]

I have to preface this with: "I LUUUUUUV Paris." But let me be honest here. Paris with a two-year-old boy is completely overrated. We did it in the spring of last year (when Child was 28 months)--it was just a quick two-day stopover on the way back to the States from another European city, and it was not easy, to say the least. All of the things you mention--the shop windows, the rooftops, the sidewalk cafes, the park benches--a two-year-old takes all of the romance out of it. Main reason--there is really no place for a two-year-old to burn his energy. Even in the Tuilerie Gardens, all of the grassy areas are fenced off. And don't get me started on trying to navigate those narrow sidewalks with a stroller. My point is--you CAN travel with a toddler, but Paris will be very different than what you remember. We still enjoyed the trip, but Husband and I immediately came to the conclusion that next time we come to Paris, it has to be sans kids. And I CAN NOT WAIT.

[aimee/greeblemonkey]

I have never been to Paris, but that is how I feel about out trip to London.

Someday, again...

[Kelly]

Sigh...Paris. Our last trip together was our honeymoon, in the thick aired but luscious St. John. The way you pine for those rooftops is the way I pine over the buoyant sky blue of the ocean.

We'll get there again, both of us!

[susiej]

I managed to get a 10 day trip to Europe in with my husband -- all four boys stayed with Grandma. We had a great time -- but Grandma hasn't been back to spend the night since!! and it was 4 years ago!