The war of words

« Lapin. »

« Bunny. »

« No, lapin. »

This is a conversation in my back seat.  Alex, a little over two years old, is surfing two languages.  His sister, 11, is trying to get him to say “bunny” which he actually knew how to say first and pronounces with an American slurring of the n’s- buhh-ny!  Big sis has already gone through the same stages of language learning but doesn’t remember when she too had to juggle with two words for everything.

I am not the only mom dealing with two languages at home and the trials and troubles and funny moments it brings.  There are beaucoup articles about this now, one very poignant and real that just came out recently about a Canadian mom with Polish origins living in London trying to teach her young son Polish.  Each time I find such an article, I eat up every word.  Not only is it a reflection of my own daily “struggle” but as a self-proclaimed lover of languages, it is fascinating.

You can say all you want about how bilingual folks may avoid dementia in later life.  Or that we may be able to problem solve or see things differently by having two languages to do it in.  But what interests me the most lately is the feeling behind those words- the cultural and emotional load in them. 

Just as the author of that article mentioned, each word “conquered” in the minority language (in our house, English) seems like a victory for me.  I can’t help but smiling more and encouraging more when my kids come up with English words and expressions.  And maybe it’s also because those new words come through special situations, like during our vacation back home, when my family comes to visit, or reading English books at bedtime. 

Which brings us back to the famous “buhh-ny”.  This one started with an adorably illustrated book called Happy Easter Bunny.  My aunt sent it to Juliette when she was younger and now I read it to Alex and say enthusiastically at the end, “it’s bunny!” when we discover he has been hiding Easter eggs for his mouse friend.  Alex imitates the tone when he says it in other situations, and yes, that tickles me. 

And though I know very well my kids must learn French to survive in this country, would you believe me if I almost feel down when I hear how many French words my little one is saying?!  He goes to daycare with twenty other kids and hears French words all day from the nursery workers.  It’s only natural he is learning all the animals in French and nursery rhymes in that language too.  It’s illogical for me to be jealous but that’s sort of the feeling.  So when he says “cochon” for pig I am happy he has learned a new word.  I say, “yes, cochon.  And “pig” in English.” 

That is how a lot of my conversations go in this house.  I repeat what my kids say in French and then say it in English.  Or in Juliette’s case, she often tells me about her day in French and I ask her follow-up questions in English. 

Perhaps that explains this recent exchange with Alex, growing up in a bilingual house.  The other night at dinner as we were watching the news, he started saying “mion” and I couldn’t figure out what he meant.  He repeated with the missing first syllable to say “camion” then repeated in English for me, “truck” (or “tuck” in his case, hey, he’s getting there).  Was he figuring out that when someone doesn’t understand the word one way, he needs to switch to the other? It’s a lot for a toddler to handle, but he is managing, just as his sister did. 

I hope Alex will learn to love both his languages like she does, too.  At 11 she can do a passable British or Australian accent though when she speaks she is decidedly American because of me.  And I felt like doing a dance when she started using  the expression “turns out” repeatedly when describing some drama that happened at school.  Thanks to watching Glee she has picked up on some typical expressions (oh, and a few not so great ones like “to make out”). 

All in all this process takes time but seeing how well my first child managed, I shouldn’t worry too much about little Alex.  We’ll get there, one word at a time.  And we’ll try to enjoy the ride or should I say “voyage”. 

Bringing up "Bi" babies

Bilingual, that is.  The other day my Canadian friend came over for a playdate with her two kids.  I met this family less than a year ago in the park when I heard them speaking English.  The kids' Sesame Street rain slickers showed me once again that they weren't from around here.  The first time her little girl came over, Remi and I gushed at how she sunk her plump little hands into Catki's fur and said "fluffy!" in her pipsqueak voice.  Juliette spoke English already of course, but it was funny to hear another little tike on our balcony saying things that were so typical of my language. 

But this time when the nearly five and three and a half year-olds stopped by to see Juliette, they tended to communicate in... French?!  The Canadian mom and I kept saying, "You guys, you all speak English, ya know?  You can speak English together!"  They eventually went back and forth, lingusitically speaking, playing hide and seek and saying "Ready or not, here I come!"  But this pre-school crowd spent a lot of time as if they were on their school recess playground, saying, "T'es vilain, toi!" (you're naughty!).

Afterwards I realized with a pinch of sadness that for our kids the opportunity to speak in English with other native speakers (or bilingual kids) wasn't the priority it was for the moms.  Whereas I will sometimes stalk other English speakers in the grocery store or watch mediocre TV just because I can get it in English, Juliette doesn't necessarily have the same burning desire.  And I am reminded that even though she can communicate perfectly with me in English and sometimes prefers her cartoons in English, she has TWO languages and TWO cultures.  Why should I imagine she will favor mine?

Our old pediatrician did say English would always hold a special place in her heart, as it is literally her mother tongue.  And the other day when I told her she had two languages, she said spontaneously she was only going to speak English.  Even at school, I asked?  Well, maybe a little French in school, she replied.  

The other day I read her  a book called J'ai deux pays dans mon coeur  ("I have two countries in my heart").  I said this was her case, with America and France.  She replied pragmatically that she had three countries in her tummy, Playmobil, Horsies and something else I can't remember.  I was too busy stifling my laughs. 

So I must once again accept that my little girl is her own person, with her own experiences which will shape her view of the world.  I will always be proud to have taught her English but I can't force anything on her.  And that's a lesson any mom, bilingual or not, can tell you.

Likin' this American girl...

I'm gonna brag a little here. I'm just so proud of my little girl. This year has been monumental in her language development in both languages. She'll rattle off in French when she feels like it. But of course I'm more impressed when she tells me full, comprehensible sentences in English. Sometimes she comes out with some real zingers, like:

"Mommy, you're being whiny today."

"Let's get cozy on the couch."

"Put your hands in your pockets and they'll get nice and warm."

I just love it when she uses those little phrases like "kinda" and "pretty much". I feel like she's picked up the essence of the language even if sometimes the tenses aren't all where they could be. She's doing fine!

I know I've said it before, but I really credit Walt Disney and my Internet TV provider (SFR) which allows us to get the Disney channel in English. I think watching her favorite cartoons helps increase her vocabulary. And the DVDs we can get in English, too. Plus Sesame Street and the fact that Remi is willing to speak in English with her.

Here she is dancing to the Hot Dog Dance they do on the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.




And frankly I'm delighted to be able to speak in my native language with my favorite little person on earth. It really is something lovely to share. And somehow it makes me feel like I've got a little ally here. A piece of home right next to me.

Now, as I write she's in my lap begging me to go see the carousel that's in town, so I'll have to sign out!

Thanksgiving week and weird pains

I made my Thanksgiving meal two days after. I've had to adapt my traditions while in France. Strangely, the French still haven't made it an official holiday here! I always feel a pinch in my heart as I trod off to work (or school this year) when I know my fellow Americans are preparing (or waiting for) scrumptious meals. So my tradition has become calling or writing my family and getting them to tell me what they're eating. My mouth generally waters just to hear words like honey-roasted ham and Sister Shubert's rolls (delicious yeasty rolls).

So on my side of the pond I made French-fried onion coated chicken filets (using the can of imported fried onions from mom: crush the fried onions, add an egg, coat chicken, bake at 400°F 20 minutes), potatoes, green beans and a pineapple cobbler thingey (again using a mix my mom had sent me). It was yummy and did make me feel linked to my country. I taught Juliette to say Happy Thanksgiving and tried to explain what the holiday meant, in three-year old terms. I think I understand why immigrants can be so tied to their home country's traditions. It's a way to keep their identity alive, to affirm their origins.

In other news I've been suffering from some excruciating joint pain. A few weeks ago Juliette was diagnosed with Fifth's Disease, which is a virus which causes a strange red rash on the arms, legs and cheeks. She was so bright red I thought I had burned her in the bath and we took her to the ER. The overworked doc from Romania ('cause there aren't enough French docs, it seems), said it was viral and a fever might rear its ugly head soon. But she was fine and the rash finally subsided.

But last Sunday it was my turn to get the rash and when I woke the next morning I felt like I was about 75 due to my creaky joints. If this is old age, it's not fun, people. Then during gym class I tripped (on my own foot!) and fell down and of course used my wrists to break the fall. (The fall was not due to the joint pain buy my eternal clumsiness. I broke my pinky in middle school trying to catch a football with all my fingers pointing out.) During the night I couldn't feel my fingers and the pain was intense. I figured I had a hairline fracture or something, and hauled myself to the ER the next morning, but the x-ray showed nothing. The pain continued, especially in the night, and my GP confirmed that all this was due to the virus, in fact. In adults joint pain is quite common. Reading a few forums on the Internet showed me that some people suffer from this pain quite a long time after the inital virus. As in years. I really hope that's not the case for me!

In other news, school is as intense as ever. Lots of exams coming up and a French paper which I must finalize. Two people in my class are seriously thinking of stopping. We're all rather frazzled and tired. This program tries to cram two years of courses into one. We have on average 38 hours a week of lessons, then you need to do some exercises and not fall behind on studying when you're at home. A night off for me is when I study on the couch instead of at the table. Last night I had such a raging a headache that I really did take the night off though. And it was nice.

Sometimes I find myself wishing this school year would hurry up and finish. But then I realize that also means Juliette's three-year old self will be finishing, too. And I already feel like I haven't gotten to appreciate my time with her this year. Sometimes she's the last little one at the after-school care when I pick her up at 6:10. I try to cherish my time with her, but I'm sometimes distracted by all I must do home and house-work-wise. But I do love the cute things she says, and I'll note a few before I forget.:
"Peek it on" instead of "keep it on" regarding her little undershirts. She's a bit obsessed with them. And also her cardigans 'cause she's learning to button things.
"Can we do Christmas when we get home?" because they're starting to make ornaments at school.
"Mommy, we're gonna take you to the doctor," when I showed her my own rash.
"The moon is broken," when she saw a quarter moon one night.

She does say a lot more things in French now, which is normal since she's hearing so much at school. Sometimes she'll go on in French mode with me and I try to get her to go back to English. Other nights she's more spontaneously English. I guess I can't force it.

In other words, we're just doing the best we can on all fronts, taking it one step at a time. What more can you do?

Warm Thanksgiving wishes to you all!

Heard it all before, but it bears repeating

I know I'm gonna sound like a broken record this year. Too much to do for school, not enough time with the family. And though Remi is having to deal with sometimes feeling single when I go back to the room and study while he watches evening TV, it's just harder to explain that this year mommy's rather busy to a three-year old. And there are times, many times, when I feel rather sad to have only seen my little one five minutes or not at all in the morning before dashing off. Mondays seem to be tougher on me as I remember the quality time we spent together on the weekend, and I realize I'll have so little time with her on weeknights. Even though I know so many working moms deal with this, I sometimes feel like complaining.

And it seems that Juliette's own school experience is taking a toll on her. She still seems to like it enough, especially lunchtime and eating at the cafeteria. We've noticed her speaking French more clearly now when she "faux-talks" on the phone. And she's speaking more and more French with Remi's family. Still English with me but I can hear a bit more French creep in. Sometimes it makes me twinge a little in that I feel like I'm "losing" her. It's silly, I know, because obviously she is half-French and lives here and must speak that language!

She also acts up a bit more at home. "No" has always been one of her favorite words, but she can yell it with such ferocity now and for the silliest things. Her teacher says she's quite well-behaved at school but that kids sometimes need to "let it all out" at home. It's been tough dealing with tantrums at the end of the day when all I want is to have fun with her. I sometimes even tell her, as she writhes on the floor, that mommy is sad when Juliette isn't happy. Then her screams turn more to sobs and she'll say "make mommy sad" in a guilty wail. I hope I'm not giving her a complex, but I did read that you should explain things to toddlers.

But I try to focus on the good times, like singing songs on the bed after school.

Meanwhile, I've found an internship for my training program. Will be at a company that we'll call Pasta Place in the microbiology lab. At least that's one less thing to worry about. That will be in January, for a seven-week period. I got home early from the interview and didn't think it worthwhile to drive back to school for an hour and a half of English class (what with the price of gas and all, too). So of course I rushed to Blogger to update! Now I'm gonna make some chocolate chip cookies with white chocolate bits before I go pick up Juliette from school at the official end of the school day.