Paris, Baby!
An American Girl's Real-Life Adventures Having a Baby in the City of Lights
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- USD 11.99
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- USD 11.99
Descripción editorial
Is it possible to maintain chic as a single-mom-to-be in a city where it's all supposed to be effortless and breastfeeding is a horreur? Does one live by the Parisienne's pregnancy plan of smoking, drinking, and cheese-eating avec vin blanc, but jamais jamais gain more than six kilos? And how to handle a pickup attempt by a married man in the baby department of Bon Marché when you're eight months along? After all, American girls do things differently: Lamaze class and baby showers, sensible prenatal care and…family to watch you proudly grow more and more pregnant.
Paris is full of delights for a new mom: the Luxembourg Gardens, baby boutiques too precious to be passed by, a petit brioche for a teething tot. But home exerts a powerful pull. Should your child grow up skipping by the Seine or scampering up a tree house? Should it be "Mommy" or "Maman"? And can a tall blonde with a taste for Veuve Cliquot and Vuitton ever make it in the land of mom jeans and Happy Meals?
Paris, Baby! is novelist Kirsten Lobe's warm, funny memoir about Paris, Frenchmen, friendship, babies, and making it on one's own.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In a memoir geared toward the shopaholic set, artist and writer Lobe (Paris Hangover; French Trysts) departs the world of the sexy and stylish and sets her sights on single motherhood. While her life in Paris was filled with designer clothes and a string of trysts, it was an unplanned pregnancy that pushed Lobe to readjust her playgirl ways. She recounts her Parisian pregnancy and her attempt to join single mothers groups, the struggle to fit baby furniture into her tiny flat, and her continued flirtations with French men. Once her baby boy arrives, Lobe is immersed in her son, and decides to return to her home state of Wisconsin, where she can raise him among family and away from the daily difficulties of expatriate life in France. While Lobe can occasionally be entertaining, her name-dropping and chatty writing style wear thin, and her repeated list-making in the latter half of the memoir makes the reader want to bid this memoir adieu.
