I’ve stopped breast feeding. Yep. And I’m pretty certain we’re not having any more kids. So I’m done with breast feeding. I’m a tiny bit sad about that. I’m not sure Elena has noticed.

So it was time.

Louis finishes at halte garderie next week. Must remember to sort out some kind of thank you present/card/s for his teachers.

Ten days after that we’re off to Italy. I’ve been dreaming of Italy for aeons. It’s my place, the place I fantasized about, and learned the language for (briefly) and listened to music from… I would sing along with Andrea Bocelli, reading the lyrics from the cd cover booklet. I was a dweeb for Italy.

It’ll be a proper holiday. Sight seeing, siestas, sun and then for the last week or so we will laze about on a Mediterranean island and sample the local ice cream shops.

Bring it. (The french equivalent of this is vas-y. Doesn’t have quite the same snap, does it?)

Come September, we shall return. Louis shall start school. Elena shall start halte garderie. I shall re-start twice-weekly french classes. And of course I’ll have lots of writing to do. Paris to see. Writers’ group. Maybe an art class. Much to look forward to.

But no more breastfeeding. Hm.

I realised recently that Louis has lived more of his life in France than in NZ. Elena is nearly as old as Louis was when we left NZ!

I will get on a plane in a couple of weeks and it’ll be the first since we arrived in France. That’s the longest of gone on the ground since I was twelve.

Not that I’ve any grand conclusion to draw from all that, but I suppose that things have changed. And will again.

And again.