Last night was one of 'those' nights.

Disco Ball above Fourvière.

You know the kind I'm talking about. It holds so much promise and then things go downhill and you're pretty sure the whole night is a waste.

On Monday, when the girls' asked what was for dinner, Will and I joked that we were abandoning them and going out for dinner on our own. To our amazement they were completely OK with that idea.  I should mention here that Will and I haven't been out on our own, just the two of us, since before we left Virginia--unless you count running to pick up groceries or other mundane errands. In London the girls weren't quite comfortable being left alone for an evening and I didn't really think we'd get to that point in Lyon either, but we did. Hallelujah! So it was decided that we'd go out, sans children, on Tuesday. Yay!

We went through our day as usual. There was 'school,' the daily run down to the laundromat to dry some laundry and another jaunt off to the market to pick up some random item--jam or milk or toilet paper. In the afternoon, I ran off for a haircut, another first since leaving VA, and much needed. The hairdresser spoke little English and my French is pretty bad, but we made it through. This could have been a disaster, but it worked out wonderfully and I walked home feeling pretty damn happy,  a little bit like I belong here in Lyon, and excited for night out.

I should have known better because that's when things started to falter.  The girls started to bicker. Will had some projects that he needed to work on and Julia started to not feel well. None of this was boding well. The little things started to add up. The question was asked 'are you still going out tonight?' The answer was 'I don't know.' Moods started to darken.  If the girls couldn't along while we were home, how could we expect them to not burn the house down if we went out?

At 7pm, the girls are fighting, Will's working, I'm trying to decide if I'm going to force the issue of going out. At 7:30 Will is still working and the girls are hungry and anxious to make the Kraft Mac and Cheese microwave cup things that we happened to find at a little shop the day before (along with Hot Tamales  and Swiss Miss--don't judge, sometimes you just need American junk food).  I told them to go ahead. Five minutes later, our flat is filled with smoke and the smell of very burnt pasta. Turns out someone forgot to add the water and we're throwing open windows, turning on fans and trying not to choke. At this point I am sure that I will be eating scrambled eggs for dinner and turning in early. But kids can surprise you and they start urging us to head out.

At 8:10 we walked out the door. At 8:30 we found a restaurant and were probably seated around 9. We ended up having a lovely dinner (there is a whole post about food in the works, btw), followed by a lovely dessert. Julia had asked us not to be gone more than 3 hours, a not unreasonable request for a 10 year old, living in a city where she knows no one so at 11pm Will and I headed across the bridge towards home. I looked up. 'Magnifque!!!' I squeaked (according to Will anyway). He  looked at me like I was crazy and then looked up--is that...? Could that be? What the….?

Yes. That really is a big-ass disco ball held aloft by a crane. And that big-ass disco ball is right above the Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière--the beautiful church on the hill above our neighborhood and one of the most famous Lyonnais landmarks. Right there, shining bright and spinning--a disco ball ready for the Festival of Lights that is happening this weekend.  We started chatting and became a little giddy thinking about the weekend ahead of us. 

We walked in the door and told the girls about the disco ball. Of course they wanted to go see. Who wouldn't--and really? Why not?  Sure it's 11pm, it's technically a school night, they're in their pj's and supposed to be in bed. And it's friggin' cold outside! So of course we went. The girls ran out on the bridge and danced around watching the lights shining on that giant disco ball and in those 10 minutes it became one of those moments that made any of the homesickness, worries and stress of this adventure, so totally worth it. It became one of 'those' nights.

As they say here in Lyon, Bon Soirée! (Have a good evening!)

A little less light,  but a little more in focus.