I really think that if I was happier reading this book I would have enjoyed it more. I was really hoping to read a happy glamorous story of a single mom, doing it all, while in Paris. Except it's a memoir and it's real life, and real life isn't always a pretty picture.
I was really hoping to read more about Paris in this. Yes, there is quite a bit of it in here, but I never seemed to really get a feel for the city. Also while the start of the book is in Paris, quite a bit of it is actually back in the US.
Time also seemed to jumped faster than I expected. Based on the way the story was written it would seem like no time had passed. Except then she'd mention her son, and he'd was almost 2, when it felt like he was only born a chapter or two ago.
Then there's the fact she flew home from Paris because of the worry her mother, who also had alzheimer's was dying. Not quite the fun happy book I was hoping for.
But there is a list of resources for visiting Paris with a baby in the back, which I thought was a nice touch. It's definitely a book with a lot of potential, but it didn't quite get there for me. Still though, I do believe that I would have enjoyed the book more if I was happier myself when I read it.
And just for fun... here's a picture of me, as a baby, in front of the Notre Dame, in Paris.