Author: emphan

Tom and I are in Denver for almost a week to attend some meetings but primarily to go house-hunting. We’re looking to rent a home for at least a year because we’re moving to Denver at the end of March! My yearlong sabbatical is, unbelievably, drawing to a close and I’ll be returning to law firm life as of April 1st. To keep things exciting, I asked to be relocated to my firm’s Denver office. We adopted a nomadic lifestyle for the better part of last year, so it feels natural to keep moving.

After returning from our travels, we realized we were kinda over living in the desert. I love Las Vegas and will miss a lot of things about it, even the withering dry heat, but there’s something to be said about being able to go outside in the summertime. At this stage in our lives, a decently walkable city with access to outdoor activities is very appealing. We’re so yuppie now. Things like green space, public amenities, and school districts have suddenly become very important to us. Maybe I’m adventurous or maybe I’m still crazy, but spontaneously moving to a completely different city seems like something I’d want to do.

So I booked a room for six nights at Hotel Monaco in downtown Denver, and Tom lined up several appointments to view housing rentals. As I stepped into our hotel room, I glanced down and was horrified to find what looked like a trail of potato chips littering the carpet. When I saw the trail leading up to a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two champagne flutes and three chocolate-dipped strawberries on a tray, I suddenly remembered that the room came with a complimentary “Seduction Package,” which apparently involves ingesting champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries on a rose petal-strewn floor. Or are we supposed to enjoy them in bed, naked? The “Seduction Package” ordinarily costs an additional $30 per night and I remember thinking it was a total ripoff because for the same amount of money I could get a couple of bottles of really nice champagne, and who needs rose petals that look potato chips? But since Tom was a member of the rewards program for Kimpton hotels, we got the “Seduction Package” included for free with our booking. As someone who has been married for over 14 years, touches like these are more comical than anything else. Not that I have anything against romance, it’s just that over time romance has been gradually edged out by congeniality. It’s hard to take concepts like “romance,” “passion,” and “seduction” seriously at this point in my marriage. I might sound cynical and bitter, but I’m really not. I fondly recall the days when I was driven to distraction by my obsessive infatuation with Tom; every minute away from him was agony, every second in his presence was thrilling, electrifying. But I don’t yearn for those days. It’d be like getting dropped on your head and becoming retarded, eventually recovering from retardation, and then yearning to be retarded again. Rose petals and chocolate-covered strawberries are for retarded people. My husband lets me sleep in, washes dishes because he knows I hate to, and takes care of my parents better than any son-in-law I know. And not because they treat him well (my father has been a downright asshole to Tom in the past), but because he loves me. He loves the people I love because he loves me. Isn’t that better than romance? Or is it just another form of romance? We don’t perform conventional rituals of romance and seduction, that’s for sure. The likelihood of me donning lingerie and performing a striptease for my husband’s entertainment is the same as my husband showering me with flowers and jewelry on Valentines: approximately zero. If I wore lingerie I think we would both crack up laughing. If Tom bought me jewelry I would yell at him for wasting money and having bad taste. I don’t striptease, I tease and mock. My caresses are smacks and pinches. We’re each other’s best buddies, but that doesn’t mean the love and affection we share isn’t as intense as the couple who’s conspicuously retarded over each other. Our connection is deeper, more abiding, more meaningful than I can describe. My husband is such an integral part of me that I can’t be me without him; he’s as vital and necessary to me as my limbs. I’m hardly ever conscious of my arms and legs, I seldom think of them and don’t sit around in awe of the fact that they function, but I sure as hell would notice if they were gone. Our version of romance is no longer champagne and hearts, fire and fireworks. It’s subtler, calmer, less showy, truer. It’s more about trust, compatibility, kindness, and understanding, along with some honesty and humor.

Tom was a little disappointed that I hadn’t intentionally ordered the “Seduction Package.” He pulled me onto his lap, stroked my hair and murmured, half playfully and half earnestly, “I thought you wanted to seduce me tonight.” I looked into his eyes, smiled, and replied, “I need to go poo poo.”

Potato chip-looking rose petals

Nothing screams romance like a single stem rose on a hotel bed

The “Seduction Package”

Tom being seductive

Where the magic happens — sleep

My kids called me from another room to witness their fabulousness. “Mom! Mom! Come look at us! Come see how fabulous we are! Look, we’re fabulous!”  They’re so stinkin’ cute.

As much as I love to travel, I’m realizing more and more that you don’t need to endure long flights to have an adventure, family bonding can happen anywhere, and there are plenty of activities to enjoy right at home. My kids generally hate walking unless they forget that they’re walking. A moderately easy nature hike was the perfect distraction. We took them to Red Rock to hike a two mile trail and they LOVED it. Traversing the same distance on a city sidewalk would have elicited whines and complaints, but rocky mountainous terrain leading to a dribbly “waterfall” was totally exciting and fun for them. It’s incredible how much my relationship with my children has changed over the course of the last several months. It’s no longer wrought with guilt and anxiety. I no longer view them as burdensome little creatures who make impossible demands on my time and sanity, and I no longer feel guilty for thinking of them as burdens. When I was working, I was so exhausted by the end of the day that I couldn’t wait to send them to bed, even though I spent so little time with them. I used to blame my job for my failings as a mother, but lack of time and sleep weren’t the only culprits. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. At the beginning of my sabbatical, I didn’t enjoy spending long stretches of uninterrupted time with my kids; I wasn’t used to it. I found them annoying and tedious. Maybe they’ve matured, but I think the real explanation is that I’ve matured, and learned how to be a mom. I’ve been trying to practice mindfulness, living in the moment, being present, hippie zen stuff like that. I also try not to be too hard on myself. I’m not the perfect mom, but I’m good enough. Sometimes I’m great! A change in perspective can be life-altering. Of course I’ve always loved my kids, deeply and wholeheartedly, but after spending so much time with them day after day after day, I can’t even begin to explain how much I adore them, how utterly and obsessively in love I am with my kids! I love them like crazy. As soon as they enter my field of vision, my face and my heart light up. This wasn’t always the case. I once read about some empirical study that measured the happiness levels of parents and found them to be less happy, on average, than childless couples. A year ago I would have said that those results were spot on. But now my kids bring such joy to my life that I’m filled with inexpressible gratitude for their existence and for every moment I get to spend with them. I didn’t expect to turn into one of those corny and sentimental moms who can’t stop gushing about how magical their kids are, but here I am.

The kids were being uncharacteristically quiet after their bath so I peeked into the girl’s bedroom to see what they were up to, and caught the girl reading The Best Nest to her little brother. My heart is positively swelling with mommy pride. I had to run and grab my camera phone to document the moment, in case it never happens again.

Tom took our innocent, defenseless, unsuspecting three-year-old son to Great Clips to get matching father-and-son mohawk haircuts. This is why my husband should not be allowed to make any fashion, style, or grooming decisions without supervision. He boasted that both haircuts costed a grand total of $22, and I told him he paid $22 too much. Maybe this doesn’t rise to the level of child abuse or neglect, but there ought to be some kind of fine or corporal punishment for subjecting a helpless child to ridicule.

Poor defenseless baby.

Not a dignified look for a grown man.

Just not right.

As if they didn’t already look ridiculous enough.

There really is no place like home. It’s wonderful to travel abroad, but there is something so indescribably comforting about coming home. One thing that struck me is how big the sky is at home, specifically in Las Vegas. It’s so expansive and blue. Many of our days in Paris were overcast and gloomy, especially toward the end of our stay, and between narrow alleyways and densely crowded buildings, sometimes all we saw was a meager gray strip of the wintry Paris sky. I can’t get over how enormous, cloudless, and sunny Las Vegas skies are. On our first day back, the kids rode their tricycles around our cul-de-sac and it felt bizarre to be able to go outside without having to put on a million layers of clothing and to have so much open space. Everything in America seems so huge and spacious, if a little sterile and generic. Our house is GIGANTIC. My bedroom is the size of our entire Parisian apartment.

Getting reacclimated to our former lives is disorienting and exhilarating. Not only do we have to adjust to blinding sunshine, we’re once again recovering from jet lag and culture shock. It’s pretty amazing how many times our kids have experienced jet lag recently. I love how they’ve acquired a taste for things like salted fish, saucisson, and escargot. I’m not sure how much of our travels they’ll remember as they grow older, but I know the time I’ve spent with them is a priceless investment in who they will become, not to mention in myself as a parent and as a person. I feel like I’ve changed, but I can’t tell exactly how.

In the past several months we’ve gotten proficient at one point or another at calculating exchange rates for U.S. dollars to Euros, British pounds, Japanese yen, Thai baht, Singapore dollars, Malaysian ringgit and Vietnamese dong. Super-processed, factory-made foods are less appealing than ever. We’ve been incredibly fortunate to be able to travel as a family and experience different cultures and cuisines. Sometimes a foreign destination doesn’t live up to your expectations or to what you’re used to at home. Or — what usually happens — your vacation was so fantastic that it’s disappointing to come home to your depressingly ordinary, everyday life. I feel like we got the best of both worlds: being enthralled and enriched by new adventures, and gaining an enhanced appreciation of home.

Streets in America are ridiculously wide and smooth.

Look at this enormous blue sky!

I can’t get over how big and bright the Las Vegas sky is.

This sky is so huge and blue!

We scaled the Eiffel Tower, shopped on Rue Cler, walked the Luxembourg Gardens, enjoyed happy hour in the Latin Quarter, admired the Pantheon, made a pilgrimage to Sacre Coeur, wandered the avenues of Le Marais, peeked into Place des Vosges, strolled along the Seine, roamed the Jardin des Tuileries, posed for pictures in front of the Louvre, trekked the length of the Champs-Elysees, climbed the Arc de Triomphe, toured Notre Dame, viewed the Hotel de Ville, explored the historical castle of Chateau de Vincennes, meandered through the Parc Floral de Paris, frolicked in Parc Monceau, marveled at Versailles, and made Montmartre our home away from home, among many, many other adventures. Thank goodness we had six weeks to go at our own leisurely pace!

Alas, the time has come for us to bid adieu to Paris, armed with memories that will last a lifetime.

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5971878140535789569?sort=1

Surprisingly, I did not get sick of French food during our six week stay. We had duck confit, steak tartare, and pâté on several occasions and the kids ordered escargot every chance they got. I loved that so many of our meals required no cooking — just plates of charcuterie, cheese, delicious, crusty baguettes, and, of course, lots and lots of wine. Sometimes we included a fresh salad. I’m not a freak about taking pictures of every single thing I eat, I just took enough to remind me how very, very well we ate in Paris.

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5972968129915026417?sort=1

My birthday in France was a bitingly cold, overcast day. Probably not the best day to take the family to Versailles, but that’s what we did. After roaming the palace and grounds until we couldn’t stand the cold any longer, we stopped for a snack of pizza and moules frites, and then later that night Tom and I headed to a local bistro for my real birthday dinner. In my rapidly advancing old age, all I want is to celebrate with a good meal, good wine, and good company. Mission accomplished.

They must have given us all the profiteroles they had left because we were the last customers.

Roasted beef bone marrow.

Beef bourguignon.

Sweetbread and crawfish salad.

Profiteroles de la maison and café creme for dessert.

Pâté de foie gras, of course.

Pictures of our romp through Versailles can be found here:

https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5971851127165586769?sort=1

We left my mom and the kids behind in Paris and took the train to London for a four day/three night jaunt. It was our first time there and I fell in love. With London, and with my husband again. I can’t explain how happy it makes me to wander the streets of a new destination, arm in arm with my husband, exploring and discovering an unfamiliar city. I loved looking at the architecture (evident in my pictures — the majority of which are random buildings — found here: https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/117364714322873137486/albums/5967448634114615345?sort=1) and seeing the mix of old and new, a modern city with such a rich history.

I’m not really into visiting museums when traveling to a foreign country, especially a country I’ve never visited before (I’d rather be out and about exploring the town), but London has some of the most amazing museum collections in the world, on par with Paris’ Louvre, and because admission was, unbelievably, FREE for all of these incredible museums, we couldn’t resist spending an hour or two wandering through a few of the most impressive: V&A Museum, National Gallery, and British Museum. I can’t wait to bring my kids to London when they’re older to spend at least a couple of weeks just touring its superb museums.

Per Tripadvisor’s recommended three-day itinerary, we also saw the musical Billy Elliot, which was not my cup of tea. It relied so heavily on children’s performances (the starring character is an 11-year-old boy) that I felt like I was watching a talent show, not a professional musical. It also brought to mind London’s unsavory past of relying heavily on child labor. I am such a mom for not enjoying a performance because I was worried about how intensive rehearsals must be for the children and how late they get to bed after each show ends. I also don’t find it remotely funny or entertaining when children swear or use crass language for comedic or shock value, but the rest of the audience didn’t seem to agree with me.

Despite the steak and kidney pie that tasted like ass, and the fact that I nearly had a heart attack when I realized we spent US$60 on a fairly standard breakfast, and US$50 on afternoon tea consisting of some pastries, bland finger sandwiches, and tea, London was absolutely fantastic, and I know for sure we’ll be returning.