The Best is Yet to Come

A boutique in Les Halles

I haven't exactly been writing about entertaining in my hospitality blog, and I think the problem is that I haven't been entertaining much. I've been .... entertained.

It could be that I keep expecting the workers to break a big hole in the outside wall of our living room any day now, which puts a real damper on my capacity to welcome, as our family of five will be left to the small kitchen, bathroom and two tiny bedrooms - I would be sorely tried to add anyone else to the mix. Yes, I did have a scrapbooking workshop set up for Thursday, but it was canceled through no fault of my own, and I spent my unexpected free time in a most entertaining way - I went shoe shopping.

It was for a noble cause, you see; this past weekend I celebrated my forty years of age, and Darling Husband (with the help of my friend Danila) planned a whirlwind tour of parties, pleasures and promenades on the streets of Paris with a freedom that can only come from all three children spending the weekend at their grandparents. Friday night we met a group of friends at Café Moutarde in the Quatre Temps mall of La Defense. There we dawdled over drinks and drove the waiter crazy as people and couples trickled in one by one to join our group.

I ordered the salmon, and chatted and cajoled with a boundless joy that sprang from beginning a weekend that was all about me! My biggest decision was whether or not to wear one of the two purple sets of costume jewelry earrings or the new gold pair that friends had given me, and which one would look nicer with my blouse. Everyone was involved in the decision, and also exclaimed at the providence of me receiving a new purse that was also purple, which coordinated very nicely with my outfit (well, everyone, that is, except the men who had glazed looks on their faces and were staring into their beers). After the waiter brought my banana split with sparklers, DH and I rushed off to enjoy a movie. We were in bed by two (what a bunch of crazy teenagers), and slept in without the usual cacophony of children's voices as our alarm.

Saturday, we got a late start, but decided to take a look at the shops in Chatelet les Halles before settling on sushi for lunch. After that, we made it our mission to take a picture of us kissing in front of every monument on our way - Pompidou, Notre Dame, Pont Neuf (the "lover's bridge"), La Samaritaine .... We had several offers to take our pictures for us, but we preferred the silly nostril-focused pictures of our own making. When we realized it was getting late, we jumped on the C train and took it to la Tour Eiffel where we met another group of friends. It seems that my dear husband and friends realized that the 40 guests for 40 years plan was never going to work in one go, so it was spread out to several gatherings according to everyone's availability. For the high tea ("gouter" in french), we met at a café overlooking the Eiffel Tower, where friends once again trickled in bearing more gifts and cards and laughter.

The café was just closing as we realized we had better start heading out to our final destination (which up until that point was still a mystery to me), and a few train changes later, we found ourselves in front of the Moulin Rouge (stop, kiss, picture) and a short time later in front of our restaurant. It was Des Si et Des Mets, the only Parisian restaurant that is completely gluten-free (a real treat for a celiac like me). What a surprise! I had heard of it but had never been, and the ambiance, the food and the company was just what I would have chosen. We spent a very long evening, and got to bed by one (gosh, just a bunch of wild and crazy guys!) with fond memories of the company and conversation.

Today we picked up the kids from their grandparents. We had so thoroughly enjoyed ourselves as a couple that our only anticipation was to find ourselves back as a family again. Other than Young Lady's fears that I was going to celebrate my birthday with friends and not with her (and that she would therefore miss the cake), and Big Boy's pouting assertion that his grandpa was "naughty" because he scolded him for putting mud on the chair, the weekend had gone very smoothly. So we came home and made a chocolate cake to celebrate my birthday as a family, and the children embraced their task of licking the frosting bowl with diligence.

For the past entire year, I've been facing my forties with bravado. I'll tell people that I'm almost forty, that I am forty, or that I'm on the summit and it's all downhill from here - sometimes as an explanation as to why it's wiser to leave the childbearing years behind me, or sometimes simply to fish for compliments (oh, I would never guess your real age!).

The truth is, although I don't feel forty in spite of the wrinkles around my eyes (and the few on my lips, which actually bother me more), I confessed to my husband that it is quite a blow, a round of mid-life issues that I did not expect, and that I am really struggling with the fact that some aspects of my life can never be relived. This rant went on for quite a bit and culminated a couple of weeks ago in a pique when I started wailing that nothing awaited me but menopause (!!!), at which point Darling Husband grabbed my hand to silence me and smilingly replied, "But honey - the best is yet to come!"

Yesterday we laughed and waltzed freely through Paris, hand in hand like kids in love, and I could finally see what he meant.