Mom in France

More on language

I thought I would be bothered when Boo reached a big milestone (walking!  talking!) but did it first with the nounou and not at home, with me.  So far we've been lucky.  And anyway, what I've seen is that new things come on progressively.  With everything motor-skill it seems like he's on the brink for so long and then, suddenly, he's doing whatever it is all the time.  With sitting for weeks I could prop him up or he would try to push himself, and over time, little by little, he did it more on his own and less with me.  Same with crawling.  He took his first steps in May but isn't yet really walking on his own, but I see the transition happening.

So should I be surprised that his first word has come?  He's been really babbling for weeks in his own language with lots of different sounds.  And I thought I heard a 'mama' last week that really had meaning behind it, not just a sound.  But I wasn't sure.  But yesterday, when I picked up Boo at the nounou and he said MamanI was sure.  The nounou said that he's really begun to try to imitate words and sounds that the other (talking) children make.  Again: on the brink.

I always ask colleagues and friends who are raising multi-lingual children: What are the tricks?  What to do/not do?  The earliest advice from a colleague who studied linguistics in college, speaks 5 languages and is raising his family to speak four (Spanish, Catalan, English and French) told me to make a firm decision about language and stick to it.  Will your family language be English or French?  You should always speak your mother tongue.  How much will E speak French at home? 

We chose to speak English primarily at home which was a natural choice because it's what E and speak when we are together and we felt would increase and reinforce the English that Boo would grow up hearing and speaking.  But I was also quickly warned that French will be Boo's primary language even if he's (enviably) fluent in both.  Most of my english-speaking friends report that they speak to their children in English but they respond in French.  But they also reassured me that when they've gone to England, or Australia or the US to visit, they switch naturally and without problem.

Such is the strangeness of language.  My next worry:  can I teach Boo a culture?  How much of my American-ness will he inherit?  Will he learn history? literature?  Will there be more than just a generation between us?  Or in his growing up, will we all form something new, together?

First Word: Maman

It's true. His first word was in French.

Missing Virginia

"If you knew you had only 5 years to live, what would you do?"

For most of us, it's a parlor-game question.  Quit my job and travel the world.  Go to outer space.  Climb mountains. Write a book.  Spend time with my family.

For my friend Virginia it was real.  Just after her 40th birthday she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma.  She and I had been colleagues together in California and still kept in touch usually talking two or three times a year in long talky phone calls that often lasted 3 hours.  When she told me she had cancer she still sounded like her self:  ultimately practical and positive.  She told me about the early doctor visits, the tests and finally, how she felt fine.  She was an athlete, doing triathlons to raise money and awareness for medical causes.  Now she had her own cause.

When Virginia asked herself the parlor-game question she answered it with: I want a child.  She wasn't married, no boyfriend and she'd just been diagnosed with a no-cure cancer.  She was brave.  She knew that, most likely, she wouldn't live to see her child's 5th birthday, but she this is what she wanted to with the rest of her life.

Paige arrived at Christmas-time.  As far as I know, the pregnancy was good for Virginia.  The cancer kept a low-profile.   I spoke with Virginia as always - every few months.  Our conversations were always about work and motherhood.  She told me about her reduced schedule, working at home, the company being taken over.  She told me about how her house was still under construction for Paige's room when she delivered.

Two years later and my own pregnancy.  Virginia was one of my biggest cheerleaders sending cards and gifts with a regularity that rivaled my mom.  I remember best the "Yay - you're halfway!" card and baby gift.  I had thought I was the only one that  noticed, but my friend, thousands of miles away, fighting deadly cancer and raising a toddler was thinking of  me.  Wow.  I was humbled.

Boo arrived, the birth announcements went out.  Another gift & note(a big box this time of clothes from the Gap, a sweater for year 2 and a teddy bear).  A thank you note from me was our last correspondence.  Nearly a week after her death, on June 4, 2007 I received a note from her sister telling me that Virginia had died.  Strange, but I was shocked.  It had only been a couple of months since the last communication and as always from Virginia she was fighting on.  I guess my reaction was normal -- days of intermittent tears when I would think of her and the lost friendship.  A year later, the day didn't pass unnoticed. I miss her. 

Mom in ... Boston

I lived in Boston twice.  Once for a year just out of college but couldn't hack it as a California girl in the brutal winter. The winter only increased my sense of dislocation and lonliness; I had to get out.  I headed to Newport Beach, California where I licked my  wounds in the jacuzzi and visited Malibu on New Year's.  Later that year I moved back to Northern California and joined the gold rush of internet start-ups.

My second stint in Boston, from 1999 to the end of 2002 when I moved to France was a completely different story.  I was no longer green.  I wasn't poor. I had a good job with people that I liked.  I lived in the heart of the city, in Back Bay.  I ran, even in winter, along the river.  I adapted successfully to the winter and gained a closet full of coats for all weather. I fell in love with the New England light - what you see in some Hopper paintings.

It was, believe it or not, hard to leave Boston for the south of France and if we ever move back the US it would be there.

The last time I visited Boston was 4 years ago for a friend's wedding.  Last fall (before the christmas trip) we decided to make this trip.  I didn't know yet about traveling with a baby.  My big lesson learned:  Although I fretted about the confined space of the airplane and airport logistics the biggest problem is the jet-lag. The plane ride, though long, is bearable.  The jet-lag goes on for days. I am beginning to think summertime trips home, for a month, are the way to go.

Boston itself was delicious as always. We  experienced all weather except sleet and snow in our short stay. We criss-crossed Back Bay over and over. We took early morning, jet-lagged walked through the south end. We  ate breakfast at Charlie's.  E and I both managed to get in a riverside run. We visited Cambridge.  Best of all we saw friends we haven't seen in a long time.