Nearly 11 years ago I fell head over heels in love with a beautiful, snuggly, strong willed baby girl.  As my first born, she was the force of nature that turned me instantaneously into a mother.  As first born children will do, she consumed my life in every way.

Nearly two years later I found myself pregnant with my soon to be second daughter.  I felt conflicted in a way I hadn’t expected.  I worried that our new baby would take me away from my first born, would decrease the love and attention I had to give to her.  I worried that this shift of focus, from her as an only child to her AND her sister, would ruin her forever.  I worried that I wouldn’t love this new baby as much as I had the first. This struggle is not unique and neither was the solution.  We figured it out, day by day, minute by minute.  So far, nobody seems too scarred.

Five years ago I fell head over heels in love again.  This time I traveled 4,800 miles to meet my love, anxiously leaving my two small children in the care of my parents.  The object of my affection was again beautiful and strong willed.  (Strong willed and I….it’s a love/hate thing.)  and very, very French.

I wasn’t prepared to like Paris, much less love it. I wasn’t prepared to fall in sync with the rhythms of the city, to be astounded by the architecture and awed by the beauty. In short, it was little like parenting. Before I had children parenting was an abstract concept that seemed pleasant enough. After children, parenting was real and gritty and transformative. Before traveling to Europe, Paris was a pleasant enough idea. After spending ten days there, Paris changed me. And left me wanting more.

So in three days I’ll embark again to the City of Light, this time with my daughters in tow. We will meet my mother there and immerse ourselves in the city. I wonder, though, how has Paris changed? How have I changed since my last journey there? How will my children experience this gorgeous city? Will I love Paris as much the second time as I did the first?