Time Out

I'm going to Rome for my wedding anniversary.
Unfortunately, FH won't be joining me.

The romantic destination belies a mundane purpose: another 3-day language conference, in the company of semi-strangers I meet up with twice a year.
Still - to a certain extent - it will be nice for me to celebrate eight years of marriage in the eternal city. And, encouraged by my recent viewing of "Eat, Pray, Love" with Julia Roberts (she goes to Rome for 4 months... and eats), I have vowed to eat as much pizza, pasta and pastries as The Firm's budget will allow. I'll even sacrifice a few taxis if need be.

I'm a little concerned however that the wedding anniversary won't be quite as much fun for FH. He'll be household manager for the whole of next week, a gruesome job involving lots of responsibility and few perks.
LB is going through a - how to put this? - difficult stage.
Despite my deep aversion to the categorisation of kids (I don't think any kid should be stigmatised this soon with a label like "Shy", "Boisterous" or "Difficult"), over the past few weeks I have actually found myself uttering the treacherous words "I think LB might be a difficult child."
As soon as I find myself sharing this disloyal thought with another compassionate human being, I quickly backtrack and re-define "He's a good child going through a difficult stage."
Yes, this is a far better way of looking at things. And also, there's a pretty good chance it's true.

Stages can just seem so long when you're in the thick of them.

And without putting too fine a point on it, the original title of this post was "Is it OK to drink whisky at 2.30 pm on a Saturday afternoon?"
You'll be pleased to know that the title got scrapped at the last minute, and the urge it conveys was replaced with a chocolate biscuit.
So all in all, though I'm teetering on the brink, I'm still sort of this side of sane. Sort of.

And P.S., if you're wondering how I'm getting to Rome tomorrow, please don't imagine that I'm taking the simple route.
OF COURSE there is a direct flight from Toulouse!
And OF COURSE I am shunning it in favour of a night train. From Paris.

All roads lead to Rome. Eventually.

See you in a week!