Attention! Tu vas où la? (Hey! Where are you going?) is a phrase I say (ok, sometimes, yell) at my 2,5 year old daughter multiple times a day.
I'm American, I live in Paris. There are lots of us Americans here. Lots of us start blogs, too, so I'm really not unique.
Navigating living in a foreign culture is demanding, tiring, draining and gives you (or maybe just me) a lovely inferiority complex. All those adjectives can also be attributed to being a mom, even if you still live next to your parents, in the same town you went to high school.
The difference is, I'm starting to think in a different language. Cuss in a different language and figure out where the hell to buy light brown sugar for a recipe one of my friends posted
on Facebook. (For the record, I didn't make the recipe as the idea of dragging my almost 3 year old across the city to a natural food store made my stomach hurt.)
I got pregnant here, I gave birth here, I enrolled my daughter in a day care here. In September she will be going to preschool here.
She's a very lovely, spunky, active, sensitive girl who thrives on being in control, so basically a normal toddler in the
United States. Here she doesn't quite fit in the "cadre" (box) of other 6eme arrondissement French kids. She doesn't like to hold my hand as we cross streets and she won't stay on her bicycle or scooter, happily wheeling along beside me.
As we were walking home from the boulangerie the other evening, she was tired. The five minute walk looked daunting to her. "Mommy, pick you up please?" Was said repeatedly the whole time. I could not pick her up, I had a baguette under one arm, a purse and held a bicycle she refused to ride
after she begged to ride it to the boulangerie. "No," I repeated, "I can not pick you up how, we're almost home." She cried and refused to move. I tried the old "ok stay there then," trick and walked away.
Five feet later a French woman yelled at me. "Madame, votre fille!" (Madame, your daughter!" I said, "Oui, Elle est fatiguée et elle veux pas marcher." (Yes, she is tired and doesn't want to walk.) she then repeatedly told my daughter that she is being a bad girl. A very bad girl. A horrible girl! I thanked the lady for her input and went back and picked up my daughter to get away from the woman. She then says that my daughter won and her behavior was bad and my daughter will keep being bad because she wins.
Maybe she's right. But I was trying to win when she interfered.
Would this have happened in the states? Maybe. Does it make it any more interesting that it happened in Paris, two feet away from Jacques Chirac's apartment? I'm not sure, but my dad says it does.
Walking down the streets, in daycare and in restaurants,
French kids are good. My daughter is good most of the time. She happily sits in a café without a high chair feet from the busy streets without making a fuss and has since she was a year old. She will not sit in a taxi or car, because she's not used to it. At 2 she was able to stand up in the bus and metro and hold on, so she didn't fall. (Because even though there are seats, no one willingly gives one up).
She helps me shop and eagerly carries the half of a bag, 30€, worth of groceries home. But refuses to hold my hand. What's wrong with my hand! It's not sweaty, I usually paint my fingernails and they're pretty! I try not to have a death grip and give her leeway! As I was talking to my French mom friend today she told me, "walk fast and do not give her an opportunity to stop and play and wonder." I tried it. It's working.
Tomorrow we're going to the "pool" because it's going to be
28°c here it's too damn hot. She will wear her bathing "soup". And she will hold my hand damnit.
So, off to bed I go, with a sleeping, snoring 2,5 year old five feet from me.
If you're reading, you should comment. :)
I'm American, I live in Paris. There are lots of us Americans here. Lots of us start blogs, too, so I'm really not unique.
Navigating living in a foreign culture is demanding, tiring, draining and gives you (or maybe just me) a lovely inferiority complex. All those adjectives can also be attributed to being a mom, even if you still live next to your parents, in the same town you went to high school.
The difference is, I'm starting to think in a different language. Cuss in a different language and figure out where the hell to buy light brown sugar for a recipe one of my friends posted
on Facebook. (For the record, I didn't make the recipe as the idea of dragging my almost 3 year old across the city to a natural food store made my stomach hurt.)
I got pregnant here, I gave birth here, I enrolled my daughter in a day care here. In September she will be going to preschool here.
She's a very lovely, spunky, active, sensitive girl who thrives on being in control, so basically a normal toddler in the
United States. Here she doesn't quite fit in the "cadre" (box) of other 6eme arrondissement French kids. She doesn't like to hold my hand as we cross streets and she won't stay on her bicycle or scooter, happily wheeling along beside me.
As we were walking home from the boulangerie the other evening, she was tired. The five minute walk looked daunting to her. "Mommy, pick you up please?" Was said repeatedly the whole time. I could not pick her up, I had a baguette under one arm, a purse and held a bicycle she refused to ride
after she begged to ride it to the boulangerie. "No," I repeated, "I can not pick you up how, we're almost home." She cried and refused to move. I tried the old "ok stay there then," trick and walked away.
Five feet later a French woman yelled at me. "Madame, votre fille!" (Madame, your daughter!" I said, "Oui, Elle est fatiguée et elle veux pas marcher." (Yes, she is tired and doesn't want to walk.) she then repeatedly told my daughter that she is being a bad girl. A very bad girl. A horrible girl! I thanked the lady for her input and went back and picked up my daughter to get away from the woman. She then says that my daughter won and her behavior was bad and my daughter will keep being bad because she wins.
Maybe she's right. But I was trying to win when she interfered.
Would this have happened in the states? Maybe. Does it make it any more interesting that it happened in Paris, two feet away from Jacques Chirac's apartment? I'm not sure, but my dad says it does.
Walking down the streets, in daycare and in restaurants,
French kids are good. My daughter is good most of the time. She happily sits in a café without a high chair feet from the busy streets without making a fuss and has since she was a year old. She will not sit in a taxi or car, because she's not used to it. At 2 she was able to stand up in the bus and metro and hold on, so she didn't fall. (Because even though there are seats, no one willingly gives one up).
She helps me shop and eagerly carries the half of a bag, 30€, worth of groceries home. But refuses to hold my hand. What's wrong with my hand! It's not sweaty, I usually paint my fingernails and they're pretty! I try not to have a death grip and give her leeway! As I was talking to my French mom friend today she told me, "walk fast and do not give her an opportunity to stop and play and wonder." I tried it. It's working.
Tomorrow we're going to the "pool" because it's going to be
28°c here it's too damn hot. She will wear her bathing "soup". And she will hold my hand damnit.
So, off to bed I go, with a sleeping, snoring 2,5 year old five feet from me.
If you're reading, you should comment. :)
