New Digs

It was never my intention to so thoroughly neglect my blog. It just happened: one week, then one month, then months…. I have felt guilty and the need/desire to blog has always been on my mind, but the longer I neglected it, the easier it was to not come back to it.

One of my excuses: We bought a house and did a huge remodel. Yep, we are sinking roots in Louisville, CO! Just outside Boulder, in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, a place with mild(ish) seasons, gorgeous hiking trails and camping places, fantastic schools, and lots of great friends, new and old.

No way I could resist this:

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Or this:

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Louisville is a slice of classic small town Americana charm with a dash of liberal “republic of Boulder” and a good layer of whatever-you-want frosting. Music? Art? Sports? Beer? Parades with dogs and cute kids? A fire station that gives your kids a tour if you pop in to say hi? Summer Street Faires that draw names like the Gin Blossoms and Los Lobos? Free horse and carriage rides around downtown? Fine Dining? Fantastic burger? It’s all right here, in my adopted home town.

I hope to never move again – this is it for me. No more packing, no more boxes, no more house shopping, done. I told my husband: we aren’t leaving here until we’re too old to get up the stairs. His response: “Then we’ll just get one of those electric carts to slide us up and down. We never have to leave!” We love, love, love our new house, and Louisville, and my husband is working for Google and, well, Google is GOOGLE. Best company to work for, hands down.

This, of course, was before we realized that Trump becoming president of the USA wasn’t an impossible joke, but a frighteningly real prospect. That could be such a disaster that a move to the EU would be a real consideration. Seriously, ‘Merica, WTF?

As for the remodel, I became an HGTV junkie and my daughter kept begging to come to the house when they were “breaking stuff” so she could see it. As it goes with remodels, things are never as easy as they initially seem they will be, but long story short: we are in and our house looks fabulous. We even have a guest room, a true guest room, for the first time ever! The theme (a room with a theme!) is, of course, Paris. Here’s a photo:

Paris room

My husband and I have a running joke about how in every American movie with even one scene in Paris, the Parisian apartment or hotel room always, always, always has a view of the Eiffel Tower. We watch for it and see who can be the first to call it out: VOILA, TOUR EIFFEL ! HA HA HA! So here it is: Our room with a view!

One of the pillows has this lovely Audrey Hepburn quote from Sabrina (where, ironically, she has a view not the Tour Eiffel but of Montmarte): “Paris is always a good idea.”

Agreed, Audrey, agreed.

New home, new desk, new year, new plans… more to come. I won’t promise to be fast with my next post, but I will say this: when I’m not writing about A French American Life, I’m living it, and that’s the point of it all anyway, right?

 

 

What American Parents Do Well

Is anyone besides me beyond annoyed by the whole “Americans suck as parents” trend? From Pamela Drukerman’s Bringing Up Bébé to Tiger Mom to British nannys reading us the riot act, we seem to have the whole world judging our parenting style as completely ineffective. Worse, we’re labeling ourselves as inept: we’re sure that somehow, some way, everyone else knows something we don’t, whether it be some variation of the “kids/parents these days/in my day” rant (which has gone on for generations) or the “French/Chinese/Tribal Africans/name any country do it so much better” trend.

It’s clear to anyone who actually lives in the U.S. that there is no one-size-fits-all parenting strategy here. Peruse the shelves of books on parenting in any bookstore and it’s apparent that we can’t agree on much of anything when it comes to how to best raise a child in this country. Beginning with how best to bring the child into the world: you’d think the way a child exits the mother’s womb is the single most important aspect of being a parent, the way some people rail on about it. The fact that we even have shelves of books on how to parent speaks volumes for our combined interest, opinions, and insecurities. Still, I think there are some approaches that while not completely universal (is anything?) are still identifiable as “American.”

Here’s where I think Americans are getting it right:

1. We’re affectionate and loving with our kids. We hug our kids, kiss them, rub their backs, let them drape themselves on us. We give them piggy back rides. We tickle them. We let them pretend they are tickling us. We often tell our kids we love them, we compliment them, we encourage them.

2. We pass on optimism, positive outlooks, and a you-can-do-anything-you-set-your-mind-to attitude. Americans: we’re a pretty sunny bunch. We smile freely. We’re chatty even if we don’t know you. And we tend to see the world as a place full of wonderful possibilities, especially if you work hard. We pass that attitude on to our kids.

3. We encourage sports and physical activity. We love our sports. We like to watch them, we like to play them, we like to talk about them. And while there’s no denying we have an issue with obesity in this country, we also have millions of citizens who make sports, staying in shape, and playing a part of their daily lives, for all their lives. This starts early: soccer programs for 2-year-olds leads to league sports for elementary aged kids, and sports associated with schools usually starting in junior high. Our kids learn valuable lessons about physical fitness, healthy lifestyles, and teamwork from the start.

4. We know school is important, but that it shouldn’t rule our kids’ every waking moment. We let them experience balance in life by giving them opportunities to pursue other interests: musical, athletic, social; we believe happiness in life comes not only from accomplishing, but also from relationships, balance, and exploration of the world. Still, we get involved in our kid’s education, too. We volunteer in the schools. We keep tabs on school board and curriculum decisions. We have relationships with our children’s teachers. We, like many other cultures, keep close tabs on how our kids are doing in school and what they are up to outside of school. Involvement in extracurriculars is often portrayed as a frantic attempt to make sure our child is good at everything. But for many of us, it’s an attempt to help our child find the things they love to do, and then keep doing them.

5. We get emotional. Our kids see a spectrum of human emotions in us. We don’t tend to hold our kids at arms’ length, or try to be something other than ourselves, our very human selves, around them. We keep it real. Our kids see that we aren’t perfect. Our kids see us say we’re sorry. Yes, we’re still in charge, but we don’t pretend we’re infallible.

6. We put our kids through college. One of my biggest gripes about my country is that higher education is ridiculously expensive, and therefore not accessible for far too many people. Faced with this reality, we try to rent or buy homes in the best school districts to give our kids the best chance at getting a good education and therefore being accepted into universities. Parents who are able start college savings accounts for their children early, sometimes when the kids are still in the womb. I’ve met parents who have extended their working years, took on extra hours or even a weekend job to ensure their kids have a college education. It’s no picnic for the parents in this country, but we want our kids to have a bright future, and we’re willing to sacrifice to make sure they have opportunities that some of us did not.

7. We appreciate our kids as individuals and we support their dreams. We try to get to know our kids and understand them as people, not as beings we can force into a mold of our choosing. We try to respect them as individuals, and we want to help them find the right path in life – the one that is best for them, not for us.

We cheer them on at their swim meets and soccer games. When they tell us they want to be a rock star, we hand them a plastic microphone and let them turn our garage into their studio. Sure, there’s the out-of-control soccer parent here and there whose kid is the most talented player in history and everyone around needs to recognize this as fact, or the cheerleader parent who enthusiastically applauds every scribble on paper and every awkward cartwheel, but these are exceptions rather than rules.

8. We play with our kids. We have a plethora of Mommy and Me Classes. Sometimes this is criticized as one more way we go overboard, but, for many of us, it’s an opportunity to have fun with our kids and to meet other parents. We dance like fools because it makes our little ones giggle. We play with them on the playground because we cherish that time with them. We watch cartoons because it’s fun to see them through our kids’ eyes. We “vroom vroom” toy cars around the room, honk when we pass through tunnels, and play Memory and Candy Land because we want to have fun relationships with our sons and daughters. Sure, there are “helicopter parents” who go overboard, but most of us genuinely enjoy our kids’ company and want to enjoy it while they still think we’re cool enough to hang out with.

9. We volunteer. We encourage empathy and kindness toward others. Growing up, my family and I helped build homes with Habitat for Humanity for people without the means to buy their own home. We made meals for the homeless. We played Santa Claus for low income families with children – gathering, buying, and wrapping gifts, as well as preparing a full Christmas dinner. The tradition of helping others happens in families, through churches, through schools. A local high school football team volunteers in community projects each year, doing things like helping flood victims or working at a local Children’s Home. Through involving our kids in volunteer work, we hope to help our kids learn to be kind to others and to help to make this world a better place.

10. Our kids are participating members of the family. Kids help with household duties and chores. They get to talk, share their ideas, their feelings, express their frustrations. We’re in it together, after all, and kids learn to contribute, to talk, to compromise, to bargain, coerce…. yeah, I’m not saying we’re perfect. But we view our kids as individuals that deserve a level of respect while we still attempt to teach them values, morals, and how to be good people. We take them places with us. Out to eat. On vacations. On adventures around the world. On errands. Camping. It makes it harder on us, sure. But for us, family means we’re a unit that does stuff together.

 

We are all products of our cultures, our socioeconomic circumstances, our own upbringings. Further – what works great in one situation may not be applicable under different circumstances. My own view is surely biased by my own experiences, the people I know, the areas of the country I’ve lived in. If there’s anything close to a universal in parenting, I’d say it’s that the vast majority of parents worldwide love their kids and want what’s best for them. As I said before in my Open Letter To Moms post, we could all take our foot off the judgement pedal and chill out a little, learn from each other, and focus on loving and enjoying this world’s next generation.

Parenting, as a verb, is new to our lexicon. We’re killing ourselves with anguish over it. We’re making it so complicated. Too often we approach it as a problem to be dealt with. Parents in the U.S. are too often stressed and unhappy. Mostly, we’re doing it to ourselves. Let’s stop the “we suck” train. Let’s recognize that while no one has it all figured out, we’re not train wrecks, either. We’re doing a lot of things just fine.

Addendum: This blog post was inspired by a question posed by Olga at European Mama on American parenting. She’s written a great post in support of American parents, and you can find it here.

An Open Letter To Moms Everywhere

I admit, I can be just as much of a judgmental bee-yatch as the next person. But having kids changed me. I’m not saying that I no longer judge – I don’t think any of us can claim that – but having two kids, a boy and a girl, who are so different, has made me a better person. I’m more patient than I used to be. I’m much more tolerant – not just of other people’s kids (I no longer cringe when the woman with the screaming baby chooses a seat near me) – but of other people in general.

My kids’ personalities revealed themselves early on. I have spirited, active kids. I don’t want to crush that. I usually stop them before they get too loud, or run too far, and I certainly don’t tolerate violence and destruction. But sometimes we have bad days. Sometimes I look one way for five seconds and my child does something I wouldn’t normally allow, but I don’t see it that one time. Sometimes, I’m exhausted, pushed to my limit, and I go slack on a “rule” that I swore I would uphold without compromise. My kids, like all others, push and test boundaries. Often I am told what well-behaved, even charming kids I have. Sometimes, I am the recipient of dirty looks and nasty comments. All snap judgments based on slivers of moments that the self-appointed “judges” observed.

We all have different ideas about how best to go about raising a child. Peruse the parenting shelves in any bookstore, or question a few different “experts,” and it is quickly apparent that there is no single-best approach, and no one way to ensure that our children are perfect angels and we are well-rested, perfectly coiffed, reasonable parents. And that’s just our country. Parenting methods vary widely from family to family, but start throwing in another culture or two and you will quickly realize that there is no one-size-fits-all approach to parenting.

Perhaps we could all take our foot off the judgment pedal, which many have pressed to the floor, gently ease on the brakes, stop, chill, and be supportive of each other as women. As parents. As mothers (and fathers!) who are all trying to do our best. Because in the end, I believe that is what the vast majority of parents are truly striving for. The best they can do for their kids. Having kids means that, on some level, we hold hope for the future. A bright future for our kids, our families, our society, even our planet. We are all in this together, after all.

Finding Home

I’ve often wondered whether one can ever recover the sense of “home” that one has as a child. The unquestioned sense of belonging in that one place. The intimate knowledge.

I have itchy feet. No, this is not a medical condition, it’s an expression my Dad uses to describe me; it means I long to explore the world, see what exists beyond my own doors. I used to think I’d like to move every few years, immerse myself in new places, meet new people. It didn’t exactly happen that way; practicality took over, but I did retain my love for exploring. I’ve satisfied that urge through traveling, sometimes for extended periods of time.

These days, however, I long to find home. The place I belong. The place I can sink my roots in, raise my kids, and connect with intimately. I just don’t know where it is. When I visit my family in the Arizona town I grew up in, I catch myself saying, “I’m going home.” I currently call San Diego “home.” A part of me feels at home in Paris, as the streets have become familiar and I have my favorite haunts. But none of these places feel deeply, solidly home.

For my husband, the question is even more complicated. He left France, his home, in his early 20s, and has lived in southern California ever since then. He feels pulled between two identities – French and American, and experiences an undercurrent of displacement everywhere he goes. He’s too French to be truly American, yet he’s become too American to be truly French. Plus, his accent is fading and his French gets rusty; sometimes he forgets words, or in certain subjects, like his work, where he’s never used the French terminology, he can feel lost. He’s not quite Tom Hanks in The Terminal, but he does sometimes feel like a man without a country.

For me, Arizona is filled with memories and family, but my current life is not there. I love San Diego yet have always sensed that one day I would leave, as it never has felt like home. Neither of us sees settling in France as part of our future – my husband has built a solid career here and isn’t interested in the “Metro-boulot-dodo” grind of Paris (where most jobs in his field are located). Translation: ride the metro, work, and sleep. The life of many Parisians. While we may joke that the French work short hours and get tons of vacation, the truth is that yes, public workers have cushy jobs, but your typical French businessman puts in a lot of hours. Out the door before the kids are up, back home after they are in bed, it’s not unheard of. Not exactly the reputed “joie de vivre.”

So we are searching. Hoping. I want to find that place where my kids can grow up and feel the same solid sense of belonging that I felt in my childhood. Where we develop our own family traditions and build solid connections. Where our rooms fill up with memories of good times shared with loved ones. Where I can put to rest this search for home, because I will no longer need to search.

I’ve Been Nominated for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award!

Very inspiring blogger award

When I began my blog, I didn’t have any specific goals in mind. Okay,  maybe I hoped  the end result would be a million followers and a six-figure book deal. But really, I started because I am a writer and I have words, thoughts, and ideas banging around in my head all the time, begging me to lead them in a dance on the page (or computer screen). So, I write, not knowing who will read, whether or not they will enjoy it, hate it, be bored by it, or just ignore it. Then something comes along, like this award, and I learn that someone is not just reading, but liking my blog! The lovely Anna at I’m Not Lost, I’m Just Exploring, was kind enough to nominate me for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award! Thank you, Anna, for making my day.

I’ll jump right in; here are the award’s rules:

First: Link back to the page that nominates you (see above)

Second: Post the award image (that’s above, too)

Third: Share 7 random facts about yourself. It’s been a great month for my blog – this is my second award – and the other award called for random facts, too. This is the hardest part, but here goes:

1. I have an uncanny ability to memorize song lyrics. And my singing voice is pretty decent, I’ve been told.

2. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was 7. I still write fiction when I can find a bit of spare time.

3. The only time I’ve had long(ish) fingernails was for my wedding. Piano lessons for 8 years, then years of basketball, then I became a physical therapist – for me long fingernails are impractical and uncomfortable.

4. I’m not a big fan of chocolate covered fruit. I’m a purist. I like my chocolate unadulterated. Though Will at Eclipse Chocolate is challenging me on this one. (Shameless plug for my friend’s amazing San Diego café)

5. I love thunderstorms.

6. If I could only eat one thing for the rest of my life, I’d be cool with tacos.

7. I like making scrapbooks.

The last part of the award: Nominate 15 other blogs and inform them about it. This one is tough, too. Lots of great blogs out there, and I just nominated eleven with the Liebster Award. Here are 15 more that are definitely worth checking out; they range from wildly popular to virtually unknown, but I like them all:

Babies Without Borders

Belle Provence Travels

The Bilingual Experiment

Bilingual Monkeys

Bonjour Mama

Bringing Up Baby Bilingual

Bucket List Publications

Honea Express

Le Franco Phoney

My French Heaven

One Thousand Single Days

The Paris Busy Bee Blog

Patricia Parisianne

Project Light to Life

Turtle and Robot

Go check them out, spread the blog love!

It’s Kinda Sunny Out, Too

It had been one of those days. I was tired, overwhelmed, isolated. Another day at home with my two kids where my biggest accomplishment is finishing the day without poop ending up in anyone’s hair. I was feeling sorry for myself. Questioning whether staying home is right for me, or for the kids, and feeling jealous of my friends with jobs they can go to (escape to) and time for pedicures and happy hours. Wondering if the elusive “balance” I seek will ever be found.

Dinnertime came. My husband wasn’t home. Again. I checked my cell phone for a text message from him with some sort of explanation or ETA. Nothing. I’d spent most of the day eyeing the clock and counting down the hours until he would be home. Not, sadly, because I missed him. But because I desperately wanted help. Because caring for two so young can be exhausting on a good day. On a challenging day – God help me.

He’s been working late a lot these last few weeks. Family dinners, with all of us together, are a huge deal to me. Yet there we were, waiting, wondering. Again. My daughter asked me, “Where’s Papa?”

I did something I shouldn’t have done. I snapped out an irritable answer. “I don’t know where he is. Whatever. We’re not waiting for him. Let’s eat.”

She looked at me with her earnest, solemn blue eyes, and said, “Mommy, Papa wants to be here.”

This, from my 2 ½ year old. I caught my breath. The wisdom of her words, whether they came from true insight or simply innocence, hit me in a zen, pause for a moment and consider kind of way. She was right. My husband wasn’t staying late at work to avoid me, to dump responsibility for the kids on me, or because he “doesn’t get” what I’m going through, as the twisting tornado of irritation and anger forming in my mind was telling me. The simple truth was exactly as my daughter had stated it. He wanted to be there, with us. He just couldn’t.

It’s one of the things I love most about having kids. The way they slow down the frenzied pace life can assume, they way they remind me of what really is important. How easily smiles and happiness come to a child. How quick they are to forgive and forget. How pure and huge their love is. When I slow down and see the world through my kids’ eyes, I’m reminded that a hummingbird buzzing around a flower is an amazing and beautiful thing. That lying on my back and watching clouds float by is the perfect way to spend an afternoon. That Tigger stickers make excellent fashion accessories. That blowing raspberries is hilarious.

I need these reminders. I bury myself in expectations, projects, goals, all in the pursuit of “making something” of myself; “doing something” with my life. My kids remind me to just embrace the moment. To smile. To laugh. To enjoy. That I am lucky to be a part of a family that loves each other and wants to be together, even when we can’t actually be together. I realize, in watching my children, that sometimes the difference between a good day and a bad day can be as simple as an attitude adjustment on my part. I’m lucky that I can stay home with my kids and be such a huge part of their lives right now. I’m choosing this, not stuck with it, and it isn’t forever.

One morning a few weeks ago, I went into my daughter’s room to wake her up. She reached for me to pull her out of her crib and into a hug. Still holding her, I opened her blinds and was greeted by the typical San Diego marine layer coloring the sky a dull, listless grey. I wrinkled my nose.

“Eww. It’s kinda cloudy out today.”

She looked out the window. “It’s kinda sunny out, too.”

I pulled her into a tight hug as tears sprang into my eyes. “You are so right, sweetie. It’s kinda sunny out, too.”

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*Note: These photos were taken by the amazing, fun, and talented Carey with Barefoot Memories.

Hey, France, Why So Glum?

Yet another article, this one from The Guardian, is highlighting the French tendency toward melancholy. In this study, people living in Iran and Afghanistan felt more optimistic about the upcoming year than the French. Stop and think about that for a moment.

This isn’t the first time we’ve heard about French tristesse. What gives, mes amis? You have a beautiful country, a rich history, great food, tons of vacation, free healthcare, free higher education….

Of course, many of my countrymen, particularly those of the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps-and-get-over-it variety, might say that all these entitlements, read socialism, inevitably lead to misery. I don’t buy it. Look at other European nations, some even more left leaning than France, and many of them report much higher levels of happiness. Besides, we in the “Land of the Free” fare none to well on happiness scales – often we are right up there (or down there, I suppose) with France in terms of feelings of well-being.

The article doesn’t delve into why the French are so gloomy. So I showed it to my husband and asked for his thoughts. His snarky response: “Because we know better. Life sucks and no one is fooling us.”

That’s in keeping with Olivier Magny’s Stuff Parisians Like. He writes in the chapter titled Complaining:

“In Paris, enthusiasm is considered a mild form of retardation. If you are happy, you must be stupid. On the other hand, if you complain, you must be smart.” (pg. 135)

Well, they do say ignorance is bliss. Still, I would argue that the most enlightened among us are the ones who recognize how tough life is but still manage to be happy despite it all.

I’ve observed the French and their tendency toward melancholy and negativity for years now, and I enjoy playing amateur sociologist trying to decipher the causes. My own conclusions are biased, unscientific, and based on a small sample size, but I think there is something here, in this quote from the article:

“Senik claims that the “French paradox” – the fact that the country’s general prosperity does not appear to translate into the happiness of its citizens – can be explained by ‘mental attitudes that are acquired in school or other socialisation instances, especially during youth.’”

Happinesss, quality of life, perceptions of well-being – so many factors play in, and it is so much more complicated than it should be. Especially for the French, with their uncanny ability to turn even the most uncomplicated thing into something convoluted and impossible to decipher.

Thoughts? Why are the French (and why are we, here, in the U.S.) so glum?