I needed this small break from full-time parenting. My godfather was kind enough to give me the keys to his summer place on Long Island and I drove out to finish up the book. My editor is FedExing me the rest of her notes tomorrow.

This home is so full of memories for me, so reminds me of my dad, who was a childhood friend of my “Uncle” Billy, actually my godfather. I came out here once before right after I’d broken up with a women that I had once thought that I would marry. And I was here just a month ago with Cris in one of our most-romantic vacations ever.

This time, alone, no kids, no noise, I’m hoping to reset something inside of me. I was inexplicably sad somewhere along Route 27 but once in the house I dove right into the pool and everything, magically, seemed all right with the world. I found one of those inflatable lounge chairs in the basement, half-inflated, so I blew it up with the bicycle pump and tossed it in the water. I’m almost forty-five(!) and have never once been in one of those things in a pool. I had no idea what I’ve been missing. Nero couldn’t have been any more happy atop his throne.

Before I left I was interviewed by the Times for my Lincoln Center piece. And I’ve written another commentary for NPR. I love being a loudmouth.

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I'm finally over the jet lag. I have had a wonderful time with the kids this summer but it has been a bit draining. We have been traveling so pretty much it has just been me taking care of them. In St. Tropez they were in a wonderful day camp on the beach half the day for a week out of the two that we were there. Now that we're back I needed a bit of a break so I flew Phaedre, my ex wife, up from Atlanta to see them. it's great for the kids and so much cheaper than paying for a babysitter all day here. I really have to get work done, finishing the book and finishing the rewrite of a script and that wasn't happening when I was on kid duty.

Phaedre, as I write this, is sleeping on the pull out sofa bed in the living room. The kids sleep with her instead of in their bunks when she's here. People keep asking me if it's weird and it's not. Ava hugs me even more than usual and whispers, "You're my best friend." I think she wants to not to feel jealous when she's hugging her mom. I am not at all and love how close they are even though they don't see each other very often. Ava had a sleepover Phaedre's first night here and I went out so it was just Phaedre and Chet for perhaps the first time in their lives. She and he baked together.

This morning I yelled into the other room, "Hey Phaedre...guess what...? We make some wonderful babies."

I said it in front of the kids. I won't them to realize that there is no hatred at all between us. We are partners in raising those two magical beings.

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It's our last full day before flying to London to see a college buddy and his great family. I can't wait to show the kids Buckingham Palace and all that. I haven't seen it myself in years and years. I hear it's pissing rain (as they say there) while here on the Cote d'Azur the weather couldn't be more heavenly.

We spend the morning in the St. Tropez market. You have to get there before ten to get a parking spot but once there it's amazing. Everyone from all the neighboring towns descends on Place des Lices. It's Bastille Day today, the start of the French holiday season and there will be fireworks on the beach tonight. Cris and I will be having dinner on the beach so should get a great view. I'm not ready to go home but I guess all good things must come to an end.

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I guess I should leave the country more often. An NPR piece that I recorded just before i left aired last night. Here is the link if you missed it:

My play, Fly, went up at the Lincoln Center Institute last night and ended to two standing ovations. I'm so sorry I missed it. I can't wait to see the final show when I get back.

As for the NPR piece I played it for the kids on my computer and they were not at all impressed. All they said was, "That doesn't sound like you? Whey did they use someone else's voice." It didn't sound like me to me either. In real life I am much more of a mumbler.

Well, it's ten o'clock here and I need to get to work. Later the kids go for their sleepover. The resulting quiet will freak me out.

The other high point of my day will be la poelee des coquillages, pan-fried shellfish, and a glass of cold rose for lunch at the Moorea beach club followed by a late-afternoon nap on the beach. I'm trying to soak all this up now because a few days from now I'll be back sweating again in Manhattan.

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I am overwhelmed by the positive response that I have gotten from the reprint of the article I had written for Match.com. MSN put it on their front page yesterday and I have received hundreds and hundreds of kind emails. I want to apologize to all of you to whom I have not personally responded but it is just not possible. I do want to say to all of you who have written that are in the same boat that we do have a special bond. Some very good friends of mine in New York are single parents themselves. Our experiences are so special that singles and co-parents often have a hard time relating.

As I have written here, the rewriting of the book is going well. We are still wrestling over the new title but it will be coming out in February of next year. If you subscribe to my mailing list I promise to keep you informed as to its progress. I try to update this site a few times a week and I try to post on the HuffingtonPost (mainly about politics) once a week.

It's a lovely, hot hot day here on the South of France. Cristina arrived with her maid and I just finished eating an amazing lasagna with the kids. Cris is off at the beach already. I will write for a bit and then join her.

Ava and Chet go to a great kids' camp right on the beach every afternoon and Ava has met a new best friend, an English girl also named Ava. There is talk of a sleepover before we leave.

I hope you all are having a wonderful summer as well.

--Trey

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The rewrites on the book are going so well! I am very very pleased.

It looks like the book will be called Bedtime Stories. I also love the title Hop on Pop: Dispatches from the Frontlines of Single Fatherhood.

What do you think?

This is one of the best vacations of my life. I feel that the kiddies and I are hitting our stride. In general we work together as smoothly as the Harlem Globetrotters. They are, however, insanely jealous of each other. I buy them an Orangina to share and Ava says, "I get to open it." And Chet immediately counters, "Then I get the first sip."

Cris arrives today with her maid Rupa so no more cooking and clothes washing for me for week. I so wish I could stay till the end of the month but I have to get back to New York to see the closing night of my play. Still, I write so well here, my thoughts as clear as the azure waters below us. I guess everyone loves the summer but I tel you it so turns me on.

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I'm back here in my favorite place in the world, a beach house outside of St. Tropez in a little medieval village called Ramatuelle. I first came here on my honeymoon and have been coming back for the past thirteen or so years. The place I rent, old furniture, sagging beds propped up by slabs of wood, is still my favorite house ever, my daughter's too. She talks about it all year long. The house, and the vanilla yogurt you get in France. it's the peaches that kill me, all the fruit, really. You sink in your teeth and get a little bit drunk.

The house has held so many different permutations of my family. First my then wife and I and then I invited down a few couples, two of whom got married on the terrace the next summer. I remember sitting on that terrace one summer with Erika, my ex, and our friend Stacy. They were craving pot and we had none, just some herbs de provence, which they sell everywhere around here as souvenirs. It's a mix of oregano, basil and thyme, I think. I tried to convince them that it would have no effect on them but they smoked it anyway, a few puffs, at least and swore to the rest of us that they felt something. We were one big rolling party when we were single and then when Ava came the party continued. Ava had her first ice cream here, right before her second birthday. I insisted on chocolate for her first though seven years later she rarely orders it.

This year it's just Ava, Chet and myself in this big old house overlooking the Mediterranean. I can barely afford it but I don't really drink, don't spend money on anything really during the rest of the year. We three had ice cream today in the same place where Ava had her first and then I worked a bit and then we walked down to the beach at six and swam and played paddle ball and the kids made moats till 7:30. Only then was it getting a little chilly, but still bright out. We changed and drove up into the village for dinner with Caroline and two nice Americans, one named Trey, oddly enough. After the rabbit we finished off the meal with raspberries topped with fromage blanc and a dusting of sugar. It was better than sex.

You'd think I could die happy after a day like that but what weighs on me, stupidly, arrogantly, is that the HuffingtonPost I wrote till two last night and drove into town to post at the internet cafe barely registered on the post and has already disappeared. I wonder sometimes how hard my brain has to try to look past all the miracles in my life to dwell on the what did not go one-hundred percent my way?

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