It’s 9pm and I have an adorable four and a half year old bed-time resister on my hands tonight. Tim and I have traded off the unruly one and even as I type this I hear Alex and Tim chattering in the bedroom: talking about injustices at school (they changed a rule about bringing “home” toys to school), about elves (we’re reading the book The Hidden Folk right now) and about Wolverine, naturally. I love this extra time with Alex (I read him the entire Hidden Folk book tonight and we talked all about the magic that exists in the world) but it also exhausts me after a long day at work. I guess it’s a constant balancing act, of appreciating the moment and surviving it, too.
So my time is short, before I dive back into the lullaby singing. This Paris studio apartment seems like the kind of dreamy bolt hole every mother wishes she could open a door in her house and find magically waiting, along with a babysitter and a great book or bottle of wine or box of chocolates. I’m not sure I could live there every day of the week (it packs a visual punch, to be sure). But, I’d like to visit, all by my lonesome, for a few hours, wouldn’t you? NB: I remember my mom locking herself in the bathroom to read when I was little (like 10 years old). I love Lindsay’s comment about using the bathroom as an escape hatch!
However, I wouldn’t mind taking this kitchen back to NYC. So organized.
Where I’d curl up with wine, chocolate and books. PS I love how the bookshelves are backlit. Very cool and atmospheric.