Mom in France

The CAF -- What the &*$#

I spent the first weeks/months/year after I moved to France in a bewildered, disoriented state.  A friend of mine recently described it as feeling "jet-lagged all the time."  She was talking about moving back to the US after being abroad, but I knew exactly what she meant.  During this period, which you think is only going to be a few weeks but seemingly goes on forever until it's just not there anymore, I felt like I had to learn everything over again (how to open a bank account, how to buy groceries, etc) and I had to speak through by then-boyfriend/now-husband, as if I were a deaf-mute.

Fortunately, I only have that feeling of total cluelessness about 20% of the time from simply not knowing how things are done, or not knowing that crucial word.  However, that percentage has ratcheted up again since the birth of Boo and there's the whole new Parenting World to discover.  Mostly, it's been okay, but then there's the CAF.

The CAF, or Caisse des Allocations Familiales, is part of the welfare state of France.  It redistributes tax revenues to help in the housing and raising of families.   The benefit one can receive is based on the income of the previous year.  The main beneficiaries are college students who get money to offset housing, and families with student-aged children living at home.  Because France has a goal to maintain & grow the birth rate, benefits skyrocket with child #3.  For me, because my husband and I both have cushy corporate jobs, our benefit is next to nil.  Which is OK with me since I believe in the redistribution of wealth and we are well above the average.  However, we are entitled to some help in offsetting the expense of the nanny, and anyway, it is through the CAF that the nanny gets paid. (A whole other maze!  More on that another day).

Because I need to pay the Nanny correctly, I MUST be in the systems of the CAF.  Like any bureaucracy there is an office where one  must take a number, and wait, get arcane instructions, do what they say, and hope for the best.  Then, rinse & repeat.  One day, one day, one day, the magical letter will arrive that somehow will explain everything. 

After the 2nd visit to the offices of the CAF (yup, difficult parking, stroller, inconvenient hours), I was beginning to get that old bewildered jet-lagged feeling.  I was anxious.  Like I did when I was pregnant, I started Googling.  The French Google.  And what I found was infinitely comforting:  All the French moms--those who are native, who have lived here their whole lives, who speak French without internal translation--these moms were as bewildered as I. 

I still have no clue about the CAF, but I feel happier knowing that It's part of the mom-sisterhood in France. 

Working Part-time

Almost exactly a year ago, while wandering the stacks of the used-book store and the trendy clothing shops of Hillsboro Village in Nashville, a friend who had recently become a father asked me what I would do about work.  It was the weekend that we were celebrating our marriage and it was also when I announced to friends and family that I was 3 months pregnant.  I don't remember by exact words, but I think I said something like: "I'll go with the flow, and do what's obvious."  He initially took that to mean that I might not go back to work, since I will already go on leave.  I think I thought at the time that I couldn't imagine stopping permanently work.

At least I had enough sense to know that I didn't really know, couldn't know, and that I would decide when the moment came.

When the moment came and I needed to decide, in early May, what to do, I realized that I would go back to work if only to maintain our standard of living.  Besides that, I was really missing the daily social interactions that work brings.  And the cry-free lunches!  But I had grown accustomed to being with Boo all the time, and couldn't imagine spending a full week of just seeing him in the morning and evenings.  I  compromised and went back to work 4 days a week, taking every Wednesday off.

I was able to do this because France has very family-friendly policies and tries to legislate a work/life balance.  Although it's far from perfect, I'm glad it's there.  As an American used to expensive health insurance, no vacation, and limited rights on this front, I always take advantage when I can.  In this case, parents (mother or father) have the right to reduce their working hours either completely or up to half-time for one year, renewable twice up to the 3rd birthday of the child.  This parental leave guards the employees seniority, existing work contract, etc., so that when the leave ends, in theory I can pick up where I left off.

I was worried about the consequences by working part-time.  Not getting promoted since I haven't been there for 7 months and now would only be there 4 days a week.  Not getting the best projects since it might not appear that I'm ambitious.  But I decided that perhaps I'm not that ambitious anyway, and being with my son was much more important to me than having the best work project.

Yesterday was my 3rd Wednesday off, and it was a dream.  We played in the morning and then walked down to the village to meet with the caterer for the baptism in 10 days.  We played some more, he napped, we napped.  We visited the garden center.  I keep at the edge of my vision any lurking guilt about doing "activities" with him on these Wednesdays -- baby gym,play groups, etc.-- that will supposedly help his development.  I suppose activities will come soon enough, but he's only 5.5 months old. I prefer a quiet day with just the two of us, not doing much.

Back to Work

When thinking of writing this blog, I imagined that I would write concise, erudite posts full of insight & wisdom about my life here in France, and in particular, being a mom in France.  I figured I could draft - edit - redraft - publish all in a week's time.  Ha!  Reality has set in.  If I want to publish at all, I just have to get one with it, and like the rest of my new mom-life, it will just be what it is.  Any idea of "excellence" or perfection is over and done with.

I went back to work two weeks ago, around the same time I decided to start this blog.  Everyone has asked me how it is to go back to work and how things are working out with the nanny, aka "nounou" (I found out later, by accident that this is short for "nourrice" or nurse/caretaker)

Over the summer, while I was on leave, the ambivalence that I've felt about my job persisted,and while I missed some of the people at work, I didn't really miss the job.  I imagined not going back.  And then imagined what that would do the shoe budget.  I also wasn't totally sure that I would be that much happier staying at home with Boo 24/7 and officially taking on all the running of the household duties, alleviating some of that from E.  I decided on a compromise and went back 4-days a week, with Wednesdays off.  A decision that feels good still.

As the day approached to go back, I felt more or less at peace.  No real regrets of leaving Boo, and I was looking forward to some clear advantages:  daily grown-up lunch that I didn't have to prepare.  Regular social interaction. What surprised me was the constant talking.  I went from a quiet house with a baby to non-stop yak yak yak. Something I'd never realized before.  I mean, I know it's obvious that office life is a  kind of society with its own rules, interpersonal politics, gossip, etc., but I never really noticed how much blah blah of meaningless talking goes on.  And how I participated in all that.  It was an unpleasant surprise.  The good thing so far is having lunch, working to help people solve problems, and I find myself less exhausted at the end of the day from work than from a day with Boo.  Which makes coming home to him a pleasure.

The nounou, Mme B, is terrific.  Her house, a solid middle-class house a mile away from our own, is down to earth and an oasis of calm.  This is not a place where the children have structured activities or lots of overtiring outings.  They play, sleep and eat.  The nounou has no more than 3 children per day (like most things in France, it's regulated -- a reassuring thing), and they are all under the age of 3, when children go to preschool.  Boo adapted easily, although it was a bit harder for me.  Despite my willingness to go back to work, the week before he started I was a wreck thinking about how I was going to leave him behind.  I declined to drop him off on the first day, giving E that duty.  Since then though, she's done a good job helping me adjust, which I guess is also an important part of her job.  We give each other little reports at the beginning and end of each day and marvel over the things he's done, and how he develops.  I find it's actually fun to share those things.

Today is our second Wednesday and last week's was busy with adminstrative business.  Today I've promised us a quiet play day at home.