so this is love...

I think I've gotten there.  For real this time.  I know I've said this before, only to bitch and moan about the kids misbehavior or silly French people or whatever.  But I think I mean it this time.

Could it really be that I've fallen in love with Paris?

A random and completely unscientific ehow.com article I found via google lists 4 stages of a new relationship:

1. The Chase = the summer before. Finding the job, getting the visa, hunting down the plane ticket. Building excitement.
2. The Happy Cloud = aka the Honeymoon phase. Everything's perfect and I'm just skipping around eating crepes and croissants and still wearing flip flops and admiring French men and fashion and just living in a f-ing Brady Bunch episode.  Namely, this one (I'm having DM 08 flashbacks)
Yeah, I went there. Believe that.
3. Confronting reality = end of November until about mid January when I hated Paris and the grey weather and crepes and croissants and snow seeping into my boots and the stupid things they wear and thinking about how it wouldn't kill the male population to step foot in a gym every so often or parents to raise their kids properly instead of like wild animals. You've read plenty of these posts, so I probably don't need to go on.
4. Getting comfortable = where I am now. Hopefully for good

Maybe it's just that the sun has been out for two whole days in a row and I am high on a Vitamin D overdose.  Or maybe it's because the kids have been relatively decent lately and I'm experiencing the proverbial "calm before the storm."  Maybe they have finally accepted me as a presence in their lives whether they like it or not and have given up the coup-throwing.  I don't know what it is specifically, but "getting comfortable" is a pretty good way to describe it.  There are things I like about Paris and there are things I'm not such a fan of, but I can live with it and laugh it off and enjoy the rest.  I've made some friends that I don't like the idea of leaving behind.  I'm even enjoying a lot of my time spent with the children.  (this is where you all say, "what?? Sarah doesn't like children!"  I know, I think it's weird too).

Unfortunately, this is coming at a time when I have to start thinking about leaving Paris.  And I'm not convinced that I want to anymore.  Could I take another year as an au pair?  For the same family or for a new one?  I mean, I'm 23...I have time.  I don't know.  Hmmm things to think about...

In other news, the pigeons are still mating all over my dying daffodils, and I went to Angelina for what is hands-down the world's best hot chocolate with Emma and Rachel.  For real, I think they just melt chocolate into a cup, add some milk, and voilá, 10 extra pounds on my thighs.  But it's ok, my baguette/too-broke-for-booze/eating-as-much-as-humanly-possible-at-dinner-with-the-family diet should make up for it.