My sister and me (and Paris day 1)

There is nothing beautiful in the same way that my relationship with my sister is. That is to say, my relationship with my sister is uniquely beautiful. Part of that stems from the possibility that she knows me better than anyone else, and she understands me very well, so it is easy to talk with her honestly and without fear of judgment. Part of it is simply our history together. We have had ups and downs in our relationship, but we have always, always come back together, and we always will no matter what. Knowing that. Knowing THAT is one of those things that makes our relationship uniquely beautiful.

I love my sister. (I love you, Michelle!!) I love her so much, and being away from her has been part of what has made this past year so difficult.

She is here with me now!!!

And we're in Paris together, all seven of us. And Paris does NOT disappoint!

Driving here was actually quite easy. We left at 0400, which wasn't quite early enough to avoid about an hour of traffic. We arrived at about 0940, straight to a parking garage near our rooms in the 9th arrondissement. As soon as we pulled up to the garage, David and I switched places, and it was a good thing. I probably would have bumped the car four times on the way down to the spot. We had a short walk to our hotel, where they were trying to put the kids in their own room. I told them that was a safety concern because if, God forbid, there were a fire, they would be locked in their room. It took a while, but they figured out how to accommodate us, fortunately.  While I was fixing this minor issue, a drunk man was vomiting on the sidewalk outside where David, Michelle, and the kids were waiting.  Welcome to Paris!

We first went to Notre Dame de Paris. How completely incredible. Historical cathedrals and churches are undoubtedly my favorite things to see. Some people start to feel uninspired after seeing so many, but not me. I often wonder, "Was this built as a demonstration of power?" (I think that is likely.) Then I wonder, "Were there instances when the work was done, even by a laborer, because a man loved God?" Some of the artists' renditions of Christ crucified or the Virgin Mother make me think that there was at least some passion associated with the work. Perhaps that passion was a result of the man's faith in God. Sometimes the buildings display some of the tools that were used to create the cathedrals. It's hard to imagine how difficult the labor was. But it's easier to think that the men believed in the project they were a part of than to believe that they were forced into the work. I think working in it and seeing it come to life would be encouraging, but most cathedrals took so long to be built that few people would see them from start to finish. Those are my thoughts as I visit these historic buildings.

After Notre Dame, we ate dinner and the kids had ice cream. It was much later than you would think, and I felt a bit guilty for making my kids hungry all day. The only thing they'd had was a chocolatine that Aunt Michelle had bought when we first got there. Dinner was Italian food and nothing special, although David did enjoy his tiramisu very much.

The kids were excited to see the Eiffel Tower (thank you, Little Einsteins), which we saw after dinner. There was a playground near it, which was fortunate because the kids had been cooped up in the car during the drive and shushed in the church. Sadly, Lilly experienced her first instance of being bullied. There was a very large black kid who hit her in the face. His dad saw it and didn't do anything about it, so I gave him a dirty look and he moved his kid away. But a couple of minutes later, he let the boy come back, and he pushed Lilly so hard that she fell. She didn't get hurt. Then the dad really wrestled with the kid, who was just overall being bad. Maybe the boy had special needs, I don't know. It didn't look like it, but that doesn't mean anything necessarily.

If he didn't, it seemed apparent to me that he needed a good smacking. He wasn't responding to whatever discipline he was getting, clearly. I've heard the argument that it doesn't make sense to hit someone in order to teach them not to hit. But I argue that it's my God-given duty, and that it actually does make sense because it teaches the children that I have the authority to do something that they do not have. A lesson on authority is a good lesson. I'm not a very judgmental mother. Usually I believe that parents are doing their best and want the best for their kids. But this man wasn't doing enough. At the very least, he should have been vigilant enough to prevent his son from bullying someone a second time. But then again, so should I.

Of course, we didn't dwell on that episode, and Lilly fearfully got back on the slide once and then again fearlessly after that.

We enjoyed the Eiffel tower, skipped the merry-go-round because it wasn't a good value for four kids, and took the train back to the hotel.

I don't know how it happened, but we didn't get the kids to bed until about 12:15 a.m. They were exhausted! And so was I!!