Brand New World

My almost ten-year old caught a feathery dandelion seed head and asked if it meant anything.  Perhaps it brings luck, I said.  She got quiet for a while then said she had made a wish.  “I hope it comes true but I bet it won’t,” she said with a hint of melancholy.  As she anchors herself into tweendom, I am getting used to these melancholy bents. 

But my mom-dar is still too strong for her.  “You wished you could have Nikes, didn’t you?” I asked.  Her sheepish smile confirmed my suspicions. 

These days it seems name-brand shoes are all this girl has on the brain.  For a while she couldn’t stop talking about Adidas, then Nikes (which the French pronounce to rhyme with “bike”) and the occasional All-Star reference, peppered with a bit of Puma and New Balance.

It’s not that I am totally anti-brands. I love my ballerina style Skechers my mom sent me a few years ago.  But I wanted them for the appearance and comfort.  The fact that they were Skechers just assured me of their quality.  With my daughter this brand envy has come out of nowhere and seems to be directly related to what she sees in the school yard.

“Will you get me Adidas for my birthday?” is a common refrain around here.  Followed by “I bet you won’t.” 

She cut out her own symbol

“Wow, how lucky that girl is, look at her Nikes!”  she’ll exclaim as we see a teen in the parking lot with pale pink on pink Nikes.  She can spot brand name shoes on people on tv, too. 

I have literally had to limit her to one shoe reference per day!  But before that I tried a few other strategies which proved to be pretty fruitless.  Let’s recap anyway:

Shaming

Taking a page from my own mom’s book, I told her about kids who had no shoes or shoes in pitiful condition.  I even took to finding her videos on youtube by typing (what else!) “kids with no shoes”.  Just my luck, one of the videos I pulled up showed poor Mexican children, one of whom was wearing a Nike shirt, which my girl was quick to point out.  Anyway, it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on her.  Though now if she goes on about shoes and I ask her if she wants to watch a video, it tends to calm her down a bit.

Non-conformity talk

Of course I tried the old “why do you have to do what everyone else is doing?” talk.  Just because other kids wear something doesn’t mean it’s the best quality or even attractive, I tried to reason with her.  For this point I showed her the saggy jeans fashion that exposes men’s underwear.  She had a laugh at those pics and agreed that particular fashion was stupid, but the shoe talk continued!

Mom stories

I read recently that kids get a lot out of their parents’ personal stories.  Or maybe not.  I told her how I was into Esprit clothes when I was in middle school but how I generally only got a shirt from the bargain bin, because that’s all we could afford.  I can still remember a shirt full of bright geometric shapes that screamed 80s.  I mostly bought it for that little red rectangle proclaiming Esprit.  Frankly it was loud and ugly, when I look back.  I told her in the end I realized I was following the crowd and that having your own style is important. 

Ignoring

When your kid asks you over and over for Adidas in a five-minute period, using a tactic she got from a ten-year old on tv, you just try to think of something else and soldier on.  It messes with your mind, but this is good preparation for adolescence whining. When she says she’s so unlucky for not having Nikes, I tell her she will survive.

Hard work

I always told myself once my kid started asking for brands that I would give him or her a limited budget for school clothes shopping and tell them, that’s it, make it work.  But we’re not quite there yet.  In the meantime I try to remind her of the value of her money by getting her to buy trinkets she wants at the store from her own piggy bank money.  She recently got herself off-brand aqua All-star low tops at the discount store and has been taking super care of them. My husband and I tell her she could get a job later on as a teen or earn money for chores and use this to buy what she wants. 

You might be asking me why I just don’t buy her the shoes she wants.  One little pair, what’s the big deal? We just don’t want her turning into a pretentious, name-dropper already.  Or thinking that she gets whatever she asks for immediately.  She’s barely out of fourth grade!  We hope she will value what she has. 

So in the end, my strategy is a modified “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” one.  She may get what she wants but not right away- a little delayed gratification.  Don’t tell her this, but she will very likely get some shoes for her birthday… but we’ll buy large so they can last a while and she’ll hopefully take good care of them. 

Are your kids into brands?  What strategies do you use?

Going, growing, gone!

"It can come around 8 or 8 and a half years old," the pediatrician told me after he had examined Juliette.  It took me a split-second to realize what he meant.  "It" was the p-word.  Puberty.  I wanted to shoot him a dirty look.  Not that.  Not yet.

Juliette was on the papered exam table, legs stretched out straight in front of her.  The curls that fall down her back are still blond even if the roots are getting darker.  I noticed a few particularly long toe nails on her bare feet and felt a bit ashamed.  She still doesn't like cutting her toe nails but will do it by herself when prompted.  There she was sitting in her aqua colored girls' briefs, straight up and down figure like nearly all the girls her age.  So why was the doctor bringing this up already?

In fact he didn't mean specifically for her, but he meant that today it is possible to have early cases.  Or at least one sign, such as some body hair, that comes a year or two before the real change.  (If snark is a sign, then we are in trouble.)

And though I chatted with him about the phenomenon (due to environmental factors, it seems) what I really wanted to do was put my hands over my ears and sing, la la la until he changed the subject. 

I had seen a few documentaries or TV news reports on it.  The images of a six-year old who had the beginning of cleavage haunted me for weeks after.  Or an eight-year old who had to have painful injections to suppress a very early case of development.  Is it from plastics that we heat?  For a while now I have tried to be extra careful not to heat things in plastic in the microwave, though occasionally I do it.  When she was a baby the bottles were BPA-free.  Was it pesticides in our water, in our food?  I don't always buy organic food or spring water, and we are often in Remi's greenhouse which certainly has residues of chemicals no matter how careful we are.  As if there weren't enough reasons for parents to stress and feel guilty, here was another one looming down on us. 

Maybe it is my own memories of growing up and the mixed emotions of adolescence that are giving me pause.  I know how tough it can be for girls especially, and I dread her having to go through those sometimes painful physical and emotional changes. 

That night I paid close attention to her way of talking and playing.  She still likes Playmobil, good!  She is obsessed with Chica Vampiro which features a Columbian teen turned vampire...like most girls between 6 and 11 in France.  She often sighs and snarks...bad.  She still giggles like mad when I make her Ken doll do something silly- good.

Let's face it, she is a little girl but she won't stay little forever.  Maybe the big bad years of hormones and more intense eye-rolling are postponed for now, but I can't run and hide.  All I can do is hope and pray that lines of communication will stay open and that she will turn into a bright, kind, healthy adult.

In the meantime, I can thank the well-meaning doctor for reminding of one thing:  to hold on to those "little girl" moments we share now and cherish her for who she is today.  And hopefully I have a few good years to get used to the idea that she'll soon be obsessing over real boys instead of ones on tv.

Once I was seven years old

No doubt you've heard this song.  The chorus gets stuck in my head, and the fact that my girl is seven surely makes it stick even harder.  To hear it sung is a reminder of this age, precious and alert at the same time.  Maybe like me, you remember being seven.  It was a happy time, before middle school taunts and high school drama and all the rest of it.

Once I was seven-years old, and I loved my second grade teacher.  I still remember her name: Mrs. Auprin.  She was pregnant and I asked my mom where babies came from.  After much dogging, she finally gave me a pretty approximate explanation about hugging that satisfied my seven-year old brain.  I remember my teacher putting a shoe box up high on a shelf to teach us about resisting temptation and our conscience.  There was a bag of popcorn in there that we eventually popped for the class, I suppose. 

Seven is waking up to the world but still firmly in childhood innocence for most kids.  The tooth fairy and santa still had their place in my world back then.  School was fun and life was good. Homework was either non-existent or finished quickly.  Play was my biggest priority.

Flash forward 35 years.  I've got my own seven-year old whose praises and quirks I've already sung for this age.  But I feel a sort of urgency to say how lovely it is to have this little person (who comes up to about my heart, height-wise) wrap her thin arms around me and say, I love you, mommy.  Can't get enough of it.  Never will be able to.  I keep fearing adolescence breathe its ugly sighs down on me and I sometimes want to suspend time at seven. 

Once she was seven-years old.  And she still is for two months.  And she loves to sing Katy Perry songs.  She devours comic books and Netflix and plays a little less with Barbie and Playmobil.  Her friends are her world and she wonders about marrying her best little male friend and begs me to ask her questions about their future life together.  She still loves to swing on her swingset and cuddle.  She wants to pick out her clothes more than before. 

But I can't ask her to stay seven forever, just as my parents couldn't freeze time for me either.  She is meant to go through all the stages, and I will find something beautiful and worthy in each one.  And maybe one day she will look back at seven and say, once I was seven-years old, and it was a happy year.  I guess that's the best I can hope for!

Starry, starry night

 

I wish I could say I took this picture.  I didn't, but I did see a sky full of stars very much like this last weekend at 3:30 am.  Juliette had come to my tent to ask to go the bathroom, and considering it was nearly freezing, I had no inclination to get out my crappy knock-off Android cell phone and snap a pic.  We did spend a few frigid moments star-gazing.  It's true you can see so much more outside of the bright city lights.  That was just one of the things I learned last weekend on my first ever camping trip as an accompanying adult with the scouts.

I love nature but I have to say I was not very keen on camping and helping (with four other parents) watch a group of 14 scout boys and girls.  Luckily it was not completely roughing it since we pitched our tents on the soccer field of a private high school.  There were bathrooms a short walk from our camping site (but strangely no sinks).  But it was definitely a new experience for me, and, possibly, good blog fodder.  And, no, that's not the only reason I agreed to do it!  Here are a few of my observations during my 28 hours in Scoutville.

1. French kids aren't perfect either.  Phew!  They may be less tantrumy in general, according to some, but I can tell you first-hand that some of the seven and eight-year olds I came in contact with had their moments of whining, pouting and not listening to instructions.  Great, it's not just mine!

2. French parents really do stress less!  I did observe less franticness when some of the accompanying brothers and sisters who were much younger wandered about and did their thing.  I would have been following my kid like a hawk in case she touched a stinging nettle, but I found the other moms and dads would glance over occaisonally and intervene if necessary.  But they didn't hover around their kids like I would at that age. 

3. You cannot sleep outside when it's 33°F.  When I told people I was going camping and that it was supposed to be a cold weekend, they would laugh and tell me, scouts never cancel.  And they didn't.  And there was literally frost on our tents the next morning.  The other parents and I complained we could not get warm at all at night. This was despite wearing my coat to bed. That is certainly something I don't want to relive.  The kids at least had the body heat of the other kids to keep them slightly warmer. 

4. The two-second tents take 15 minutes to refold.  I learned how to pitch the official scout tents.  Well, I watched and helped, but don't ask me to do it on my own.  My personal tent is the kind you open and that pops into place by itself.  Folding it back is another story, and as my husband was working that weekend, it took four men to put it back in place for me.

5. Kids have way more energy than adults.  The older scouts who organized the events had the younger ones participating in assemblies till nearly 10 pm.  After four hours of sports and relays, they did another hour of the French equivalent of dodge-ball.  I was ready for bed at nine, myself.

6. Teenagers are not all bad.  As this weekend included scouts of all ages, I saw how the older ones interacted.  It was refreshing to see teens organizing events and working together, enforcing the fair play spirit (and, by the way, French people use the term "fair play" straight from English) and helping younger kids.  It gave me hope for the future! 

7.  A hot shower heals everything.  I was glad to be back home and become human again with a nice shower and clean clothes.  Oh, and a two-hour nap helps, too. 

So I suppose if they ask me again in the future, I could help out on another camping adventure.  But only if I can bring a portable radiator, just in case it dips below freezing again.  Anyway, that's the scout motto, right?  Toujours prêt- always ready!

Seven is so...

For each age, there is a stage.  I've already chronicled some of the more well-known ones, most recently six and a half.  But my little one keep's getting taller and smarter and sassier.  There are also still some very sweet moments so it's frankly hard to qualify my 7-year old.  But since I like lists, I'll try anyhow.

Seven is sassy
I just came back from dropping Juliette off at her scouting walk in the woods.  Shy at first around the other parents, after five minutes she was chastizing me for not getting the right photo album to put all their scout poems in. And not to mention scooting away from me when I tried to get her to wear her raincoat.  And frankly there are some times at home when I think she is 7 going on 13 judging by her tone of voice or eye-rolling.  Oh no, the seven-year old is no stranger to sarcasm;

Seven is silly
But she still has that school girl sense of humor.  Poop and gas still make her giggle.  Or just telling silly stories or making her Playmobil characters attack each other and be "bad."  She will still make funny faces in some photographs and make up funny songs (in English, too, to my great pleasure).

Seven is serious
The age of reason is upon us.  She questions whether God exists and has her opinions about a lot of things. She listens to what happens in the news and though she doesn't always get it at the time she will later make connections about things and ask me questions.  Just today she integrated Syrian lions in her Playmobil game since we have been talking about the migrant situation lately.

Seven is sweet
She likes to play with my hair or take my face in her hands.  She loves bedtime stories and requests cuddles.  So even though she sometimes stares at me fiercely with those cool blue eyes, I know her sweet side will come back soon. 

Seven is still small
I can still pick her up and Remi can still put her on his shoulders for a piggy-back ride.  Of course she's getting heavier and these rides are shorter than before but she is still a "little" girl.  I sometimes look at her hands or feet compared to mine and marvel at their "still" smallness.

 Seven is starting...
...starting to see the world differently.  She is now enamored of slightly bigger girl shows like Chica Vampiro and she cares about how her hair will be done for school.  She is starting to read and write so much better and have real "lessons" at school about line segments and living versus non-living things.

Seven is seven
She can't escape her age, and neither can I.  She says "ewww" when people kiss on tv and she still dawdles at bedtime because she wants to watch another news report on tv.  She still asks me to stay a while with her in her bed before she goes to sleep and yells "mom" insistently because she desperately needs some construction paper.  Seven is a lot of things and I try to appreciate them all without letting her turn into a spoiled brat.

The other day at the playground that she's been going to since she was a toddler there were some middle-schoolers showing off on the swings, acting out, acting their age.  I said in English to Juliette that I didn't like it when the big kids hung around the playground.  "Does that mean you won't like me when I'm big?" she asked.  "Of course, I'll love you," I said.  "I just hope you won't get on the swings when there are little kids around."

And I'll do my best to love her for who she is today. 

Why I will buy my daughter Barbies...but probably not Monster High

When my dad was here in May he suggested going ahead and buying Juliette her birthday present.  It is this month, in fact, and he figured he could let her choose then and enjoy while he was there.  At first I suggested a chocolate baking kit made for kids but when we saw it in the store it wasn't quite what I had imagined.  She didn't seem as interested in it as she when she'd seen the ads on TV. So my dad, wise as he is, said, just let her pick out what SHE wants.  And she recalled seeing a Barbie whose hair you can dye in rainbow stripes.  So we found that and my dad bought it for her.

She enjoyed dyeing the hair and washing it and combing it.  "Isn't Barbie beautiful?" she'd ask me as she combed that incredibly blonde hair.  "Yeah, she's pretty," I'd say but felt like adding, of course, brunettes with glasses who aren't statuesque are lovely, too.  Six-year olds aren't quite ready for that kind of talk though.

I couldn't fight it, nor should I.  Girls like Barbies.  My sister and I sure did when we were little.   One of my fondest memories is coming home to find that my mom had sewed cute little jackets and skirts for our Barbies and set them up in their chairs, as if they were on a talk show or something.  My little sister and I spent many an afternoon making up Barbie conversations.  I also remember us beating up Ken in the backyard and clobbering his head against some wooden tool.

There are still moments I look at Barbie and say, in that judgemental way I have, I don't think I could be friends with a girl who looked and dressed like this in real life.  But why?  Because she takes good care of her hair and make-up?  Because she dresses to her advantage and isn't afraid to show off her feminity?  Because she can walk way better in stiletto heels than I ever will?  Maybe I'm being the catty one here, just assuming Barbie is an airhead because she cares about her appearance and is always flawless.  Who knows how many nights girls like Barbie go home feeling lonely because the girls diss her and talk behind her back, and the men who approach her are only interested in her looks.  Poor Barbie. 

But at 41, I've reconciled with Barbie.  She's not as shallow as she might seem.  And she's been growing up.  Here are some reasons I will let my girl play with her.

1. Because it's not Barbie I need to be afraid of.  It doesn't matter if Juliette never owns a Barbie.  She will see plenty of images of girls and women on tv that are way more damaging than a pretty plastic doll.  Some of the tweens and teens on those Disney shows are more harmful for girls to watch than Barbie because they are often extremely thin and a little too obsessed with fashion.  And just look how Miley Cyrus turned out.

2.  Because Barbie can be whatever she wants to be.  The new generation of Barbies may still love their clothes but they are also equal opportunity. They can be doctors and business women and vets.  They can be astronauts and moms, too.  Then there is Super Barbie.  Good role models for girls!

3. Because Barbie really IS a nice girl.  Yes, she's gorgeous.  This is no Cabbage Patch ugly cute.  But she's also a good friend, sister and girlfriend.  I've been watching the cartoons Life in the Dreamhouse on youtube with Juliette and they actually have some good messages and portray Barbie as a kind and hard-working, even intelligent (!) person.


4.  Because Barbie can poke fun at herself.  In these same cartoons, there is a lot of tongue in cheek humor about how Barbie spends hours picking out her clothes or the problems of getting sand in plastic joints.  Mattel has evolved and Juliette's generation sees Barbie as a girl who doesn't take herself too seriously.

5. Because little girls need to dream.   No, not ever girl will turn out to look like Barbie.*  But as long as girls know that Barbie is just a doll, like Rapunzel and Barbie mermaid, then she fits perfectly in their world of imaginary play.  Juliette now tells me matter of factly that mermaids don't exist.  So I think she will be able to tell the difference between dolls and people.  And all too soon she'll abandon Barbie for fashion magazines, which send more messages than Barbie can.

So, Barbie, you are welcome at my house.  We'll sing along to Barbie Girl by Aqua and brush your hair, because girls will be girls, and Barbie is a girl of her time.

*It's pretty rare to have those magical measurements, though one girl has tried.  We saw her photo in a magazine at the doctor's office and Juliette was transfixed by it.  But I told her that girl put herself through painful surgeries to look like that.

Pre-tweendom

It's not that I want my little girl to grow up fast.  It's just that lately she's been showing signs of attitude, backtalk and pouty faces.  I had to give her a little talk about politeness and respect towards Remi and me.  And I had to threaten her with missed outings or no more morning cartoons if her attitude didn't get better.  And please, stop it with the sighing, I added.

The pout because I didn't buy that key chain.

But she's not even 7!  And the tween years are supposedly 10-13.  Her first grade year has brought changes, as I've mentioned before.  She's more poised but also has adopted the language and sometimes nonchalance of the other kids in the schoolyard.  Along with the newly acquired marbles and Pokemon cards she's been trading, there's more assurance in her walk and her talk.  As in, she knows better!

In her eyes I can be the worst mom in the world if she doesn't get something from the bakery every day after school (and she doesn't).  Or she complains I'm not helping her clean up her toys (though I did help even though I didn't get them all out).  At other moments she is way too candid.  Take for example a few of these gems she's spat out lately:

As she watches me brush my teeth: "Mom, when you get old do your teeth turn yellow?"

The day after my haircut.: "I liked your hair better when it was longer."

Talking with other moms of kids in this age group, I think it's pretty common to have these growing pains.  One mom said her child had been pretty attitude-y and the girl told her one day that she and the other kindergarteners had been pretending to be teenagers during recess.  Another mom said her son can get pretty angry over small things at home.  So I know I'm not alone. But there is the question of how to deal with it. 

I find myself saying quite often, "attitude!"  Or I say simply, "don't talk to me that way."  But I think there has to be a subtler way that makes her realize she's gone too far.  Maybe doing as my friend Jessica does and getting quiet when her kids are not polite and waiting for them to ask in a better way.  Or I should flat out say she's hurt my feelings by her words.

The other morning before the school gates opened I was observing the 9 and 10-year olds. The girls were wearing stylish sandals, small heels and kid-sized trench coats.  Their hair was crimped or perfectly tied up.  They were color-coordinated and fashionable.  I looked downright frumpy compared to them. These are kids who will either go to middle school next year or know they will be at the top of the elementary school pecking order come autumn.

My daughter, for the moment, doesn't care if her socks don't match or if she is wearing pink and red and purple in the same outfit.  She'd generally rather wear cheetah leggings than a dress.  But she's growing up, and heaven knows I can't just put a book on her head and keep her little. 

Maybe she's worried about second grade herself, as she has told me a few times.  Or maybe she already feels that she'll be higher on the school ladder when the "little" first graders come next fall.  In the meantime I know she's still a kid who wants to set up her Playmobil and pretend to be a Dalmatian on the couch.

And I know she's a good kid beneath the occasional sighs and eye-rolls.  Like the other day when I took her to the pool to practice dunking her head under water she was holding my hand and said, "I love you, mommy.  More than the blue sky and the sun."  I held her hand tighter and promised to hold on to that sweet moment. I know there will be more of them.  At least until she's 13.

Exclusive! Interview with JT!

What a coincidence (or not!) that Juliette has the same initials as Justin Timberlake.  They both have natually curly blondish hair.  They're both good dancers and singers.  They both make me smile.  And if she grows up to be stinkin' rich like him, I hope she'll set me up in a sweet retirement home!  Meanwhile I feel lucky to have captured what her nearly seven-year old brain is thinking right now. 

Lazyblogger: What is your favorite color?
JT: Blue, green and pink.  And red and orange and yellow.

That's a rainbow.  What's your favorite animal?
I have plenty.  A giraffe, a lion, a cheetah, an elephant...

Where would you like to live when you grow up?
Paris or New York.  Or Australia to see the kangaroos.  Where is that place where you can see Kangaroos? And the North Pole to see polar bears.

What's your favorite room in the house?
The room with the chocolate.

You mean the kitchen?
Yeah, the kitchen.

Do you think you'll have kids when you grow up?
I don't know.

Who do you want to marry?
N... (boy in her class).

What if he doesn't want to marry you?
Then he'll be my boyfriend.

What kind of house do you think you'll have?
A house or a caravan (RV) after I work. Or an apartment cause otherwise I can't live with you all the time.

Do you think you'll have a cat or a dog?
A dog named Lucky.

What job do you think you'll do?
I don't know.

What will you make me for dinner when I come to your place?
I'll make you eat brocolli and spinach.  Noooo! I won't give you tea and chocolate cake!  No, I don't like tea but I'll have coke.

What's your favorite dinner?
Pasta

With what?
Cheese

And what else?
Ham and mozarella and tomatoes and peas.

Where do you think you'll go on vacation when you're big?
Paris but I don't know if I can go by myself.

I can come with you.
Yeah, but you'll get old one day. I don't want to get old, I'm just a kid.

What's your favorite thing to do at home?
Play with you!

But which toys?
Playmobil and other things.

What would you buy if you had a lot of money?
Toys!

What's your favorite song?
That one we heard on the radio today (Lean on).  And (whispers) "Talk to me boys" (Rock your body by the real JT).

Editor's note: some of these answers were in French so I translated.  I think she'll look back at these and laugh one day. In the meantime I'm still smiling!

Things moms say

You don't have to be a mom to appreciate these.  Chances are you heard them out of your own mom's mouth. Or maybe you find yourself using them on nieces and nephews.  It seems to be ingrained.  And once your child hits the toddler stage or even well before, you might utter a few of these.   When necessary I've included usage notes and translations. 

1. We'll see. Usage: In response to a repeated request for a toy unicorn or any small item your child can't live without.  Translation: Maybe not.  Maybe never.  I just don't have the energy to keep arguing so I'm going to give you this vague promise.

She finally did get her toy unicorn and took this picture of it.

 2. That is NOT a toy.  Translation: I've already told you not to play with that flashlight/pair of binoculars/power drill but you don't seem to understand.  I'm hoping this simple statement of the facts will make you stop, but probably not.

3. Mommy's just a bit frustrated. Usage: after a verbal blow-up.  Best accompanied by an "I'm sorry."  Translation: moms have bad days, too.  Kids need to know we're not perfect (as in "really not perfect").

4. This is the last time I ask you to do this. Translation: This is probably really the third to last time I ask you.  I've already asked five times.  Consider this as a warning that there may be a blow-up (which may lead to a #3 statement).

5. How many times do I have to tell you?  Usage: When the child still hasn't brushed her teeth/hair/put on her coat.  Translation: Like #4, there will probably be at least two more warnings.

6. One day you'll understand (when you have a strong-willed child just like you!).  Implied meaning: And I hope you'll call me and ask, how did you do it mom?

Me in my toddler years.  I only *looked* sweet and innocent.

 7. Because. The classic one-word response that says it all. Translation: I have no more reasons to give you anyway and this should suffice.  Variations: Because I said so. / Because I'm the mommy/boss.

8. I already said no.  Already asked, already answered,as this parenting advice column suggests, could be a strategy for nagging.  Translation: Please stop asking because you (should) already know the answer.

9. Alright. Usage: In my family this is the precursor to a command and J won't have any of it anymore.  She doesn't like the implied tone of "let's get down to business" and told me to no longer say "alright" at the beginning of my phrases when it's bath time. So I'm switching to "ok" or "time for your bath" etc.

10. I'm going to get angry.  Translation: In other words, you ain't seen nothin' yet.  Or, I already am angry but I've been holding it in.  Soon you'll be hearing #3. 

But the most important thing moms and dads should say is...

I love you.  No translation needed.  But it's implied in the ten statements above, because if we didn't care enough to get angry and show our kids how to behave, they'd turn into monsters who were socially unacceptable.  Dr. Spock (the baby one, not the Vulcan) backs me up on this.  So keep on lovin' and teaching them manners, but as kindly as possible. 

What did your parents always say to you?  What do you say to your kids or nieces and nephews.

Things six-year olds do and say

Making funny faces: a six-year old thing!

Ever since Juliette was born, it has been hard for me to imagine the next step, the next age.  It seems like the next year's age is a different species.  And from 0 to 6 it surely is an amazing range of phases and personalities.  When she was one and we had a picnic with a four-year old, the "big" girl seemed giant!  Her parents made the opposite comment as they noticed Juliette, reminiscing about the cute aspects of that age.  And even now when I see kids who are a few years older than Juliette, I am always amazed that they are still small, still young at heart. It's like in my mind I think they turn into adults at age nine or something.

But no!  Six (and a half, to be precise) is still a child.  Still very childish at times.  It's not because she's learning to read and write and do 'rithmetic that she's all of a sudden wildly mature.  We can reason with her on some things, and others, not even close.

Take bath time.  She knows she has to take a bath or sponge bath or shower every day.  This doesn't stop her from protesting nine times out of ten.  The other night she was truly sobbing with me trying to explain that at the beginning of the bath she doesn't like it, and at the end she doesn't want to get out.  The trials and tribulations of grade school children are really just awful.

So here is a list of things that my six-year old does and says that seem to be hallmarks of this age.  Let's get it down for historical purposes.  As in, I can torture her when she has her own funny first-grader at home. 

Things we fight about
It is getting better.  But there are still things that provoke mini-fits.  Here's a quick list:

• that we didn't have enough time to play that day
• that she doesn't have a unicorn toy
• that I won't sleep all night in her bed ("I'm all alone in my room and you have papa!")
• when and how many episodes of Arthur we can watch on youtube.  We discovered this PBS cartoon by chance one day and now she's addicted.  It's good for her English and the stories always have a good message.
• going to her kids' Zumba class. She always likes it once she's there, but sometimes she gives me trouble about it beforehand.
• any toy that she wants and that I'm not buying her.  Her new favorite mantra is "It's the last thing I'll ask you for."

Things she plays
This girl loves being an animal.  She has both cheetah and lion costumes, plus a faux fur vest that we call the wolf vest.  Imaginary games where she is a captured animal and I am her owner are the big thing now.  Besides that there are the classics like Lego, Playmobil, her dolls, and toy cars.

It's a jungle out there.

Just 1/100th of all her toys.

Things she collects
It's amazing how once she started first grade she came home with little bits and baubles in her pockets.  First it was marbles, apparently a hot game at recess.  Within a week she knew how to play and was bringing new marbles home every day.  Then there is the elastic bracelet craze, all those Kinder surprise toys, pictures of Disney princesses, or beads she found on the floor.  I think we need a huge printer's box to store all these mini-things.


Things she's whining about
More than toddler tantrums, the six-year old knows that her greatest weapon is the "whine".  Parents will do just about anything to stop that noise.  Her major triggers are varied but all equally important to her.  This list includes but is not limited to:

• I don't have a loose tooth.
• Your birthday is before mine.
• I'm not seven!
• I didn't see the cuckoo come out of the clock.
• Papa ate some of my Valentine's chocolate.

Things she says
I honestly have to write these down more often, because there are some zingers.  This is just a sampling.

• When I'm combing her hair (at her request), "Super cool.  So relaxin'!".
• "I have to keep my hands out of the blanket to read my book.  It's not cozy!"
• "Don't sleep with papa, he has microbes." 
• When I explain that my last name used to be different and now I have papa's, "What's your next last name going to be?"
• "I love MamieLin (her grandma and my mom) because she has pretty hair and she draws so well, especially rats." "You mean mice?" "Yeah, mice."
• I say I love you in the car just because.  "I love you, too," she replies. Then after a beat, she asks "Why did you say that?"
• I tell her she's acting like a teenager.  "I'm not a teenager," she says right away.  Then later, "What's a teenager?"

But what I love about this age is that she is becoming so much more aware of the world.  We can have real conversations about life and even death and she can amaze us with her wisdom.  And mostly, I'm still glad my little girl is still little.  She still loves hugs and bedtime stories and surprises us with her sweetness.  

One day I forgot to hug her when I dropped her off at daycare during the vacation period. I felt bad about it all day.  I told her about it in the evening and she reached her arms out to hug me at the dinner table.  The next day I noticed she was standing solidly next to the sign-in table as I was about to leave to remind me to hug her.  She didn't want me to forget this time! 

And I hope I won't forget what a joy six can be, despite some little frustrations that go with the territory.  

Let kids be kids

It's been a month now and we're all getting back to the school rhythm.  I say "we" because it has been a transition for Remi and me as well.  Our bubbly first grader comes home with three little notebooks on average, one of which has her homework assignment glued inside each day. 

They've recently been saying on French tv that it is actually forbidden to give written homework to young children.  That doesn't stop her teacher or the thousands of others in this country from doing it though.  Granted, for Juliette's age they are short exercises like writing the word "chat" two times.  In cursive, mind you!  But for a playful kid that age, sitting still long enough to do it properly is a real feat.

Last year when I learned they'd be learning to write in cursive in kindergarten (totally skipping lowercase letters, it seems), I started preparing my virtual soapbox to stand on.  It just seemed ridiculous that they insisted on teaching kids to do loops and connecting letters when they are still struggling to hold a pencil properly.  But when I asked other French people, they saw no probem with it.  It's important for reading, they all insisted.  Never mind that most books are written in print, not cursive, but whatever.

So far, so good though.  After some shaky first weeks when she rushed through her work, we seem to be instilling a bit of patience in her for the writing and we've been helping her to sound the syllables out.  As her teacher said, each child will get there, but at his or her own pace.

It is still strange to find myself in the role of taskmaster for homework.  I remember when I arrived in France and lived with a host family where there was an 11-year old boy.  The father seemed so stern and sometimes downright mean about the homework.  Maybe it was the French attitude, or just this father.  But these last few weeks I found myself getting frustrated with Juliette when she wouldn't settle down to look over her words with me.  Maybe my own perfectionist school tendencies were taking over.  Or, like Remi, I feared the school system might not be effective enough.

But I'm trying to take the advice in the title of this post.  Let kids be kids.  Big homework and more important assignments will come later.  Now is still play-time and about having fun.  She still loves swinging in the park and with our Indian summer, we're trying to get in some playground time after school.  Besides, with a headstrong girl like mine, the more I push, the more she'll push back.  So we're all learning to walk that tightrope of firmness and flexibility.

Whoever said it got easier when they started school?  Not me!  

Little Big Girl

Next Tuesday Juliette starts the equivalent of first grade.  In France it's called CP, for cours préparatoire.  I thought her first year of pre-school was going to be tough on me.  Seeing my little three-year old (at that time) go to school turned out to not be as excruciating as I had imagined (though my eyes did get moist!).  Now she's an old hat at this school thing.  But first grade is in a different school and now she'll be rubbing shoulders with much bigger kids.

Little one looking quite the star!

I'm already worrying about her attitude changing.  Lately she seems to be six going on 13 in terms of her tone.  I know it's just her age and that other kids in this age group are starting to backtalk and complain about not making decisions in their lives.  But it makes me think that the true teen years and especially the tween years are not far off.

I guess every generation says it, but kids do seem to be growing up super fast these days.  Blame it on TV, technology, our own attitudes, whatever.  Sometimes it seems childhood ends at 10 and girls face more pressure in terms of body image.  Seven-year olds worrying about their weight is not unheard of nowadays.  And I want to hold on to my little one as much, and as long, as I can.

So I cherish those hugs around my neck, though sometimes they pull my hair.  I smile to myself when she says hilarious things like, wouldn't it be cool if kids were born before the parents?  And I hope we've still got some good years of playing with her toys, if only because she's got so many of them! I'm relieved she still likes Disney shows and riding carousels. And I'll try to face every new challenge, and every inch she grows with courage and by being grateful that she's in my world.

Happy back to school time to parents, teachers, and of course, kids, all around!

Discipline Schmiscipline

I wish that things were easier when it comes to discipline.  I know I'm not alone when I say it's one of the toughest parts of raising a child.  My five-year old seems to come up with new challenges for me as if it's a game (and sometimes I think she's winning).  Now that she's in what they call "grande section" (the last class in pre-school, the equivalent to kindergarten), she thinks she herself is "grande" or big.  And therefore she can make all the decisions at home.  "C'est moi qui décide!" (It's me who decides) has become her new mantra. 

In situations like these I tell her she's not the boss yet and that she'll have to finish all her schooling (as in high school!) before she can really call the shots.  Sometimes this leads to a new crying fit because I dared to contradict her.  Then there was that mega tantrum last week getting her to take her bath.  She was lashing out at me physically through most of the bath and I even almost put her in the water fully-clothed. 

And as if these new kindergarten age challenges weren't enough, it's often compounded by the continual lack of concensus between my husband and me.  Five years into this parenting thing, we still don't seem to agree on the way to parent.  I know we've broken about all the rules like, Thou shalt not criticize thy spouse's parenting style in front of thy child.  But I do it, he does it, and I'm sure Juliette is getting quite the mixed signals. 

Take last Sunday.  Juliette was tapping her markers on the table and coyly saying it wasn't her.  We said, obviously it is you, and please stop.  But she continued and just as I was about to tap her on the shoulder and tell her to stop, Remi raised his voice louder than a drill sergeant telling off his new recruits.  Juliette started bawling and thus ensued an argument between the parents about just how far one should go in terms of shouting. 

It seems we can't find that magical compromise in terms of discipline.  Though young French parents are decidedly more open-minded than their parents' generation, I get the impression sometimes that the old "children should be seen, not heard" idea is still prevalent here. 

But after talking to some of my students who are also daddies, I've gotten some advice.  One told me about a book he and his wife use from the Super Nanny series.  This exists in Britain, too, and they have a website full of great articles.  I ordered the book in French in hopes that hubby will give it a glance.  Another says he and his wife try not to disagree with each other on discipline tactics in front of the children.  I don't know if I can keep to this one, but I'll try!

I know my little girl is good down deep and capapble of great sweetness.  Call her headstrong, call her stubborn, but I must stick with my gentle but firm approach and hope for the best.

Four and a half

I've been a bad blogger lately (how many of us start posts with that line...?).  Especially when it comes to chronicling my Juju.  I also started a journal to write down some of the funny things she says but there again I'm not very regular about doing it.  Sometimes you just have to be in the moment without trying to "capture" it.  Or something about the light or the purity of that moment tells you you're not going to forget it anyway.

But I've sort of got a chronicler's soul so I'll recap the highlights of this four and a half-year old.  She can be funny as all get out.  Like the time she told me quite seriously she was going to the bathroom and that I should stay in the living room and do some "activities" and that she would be right back.  I don't where the heck she could have picked that up.  (Yes, it's me.)

Or how she tells me her African American Fisher Price figurine and the blond-haired one are "brudders" cause they both have blue shirts.  On the subject of brothers she told me she wants a "brudder" who speaks French and a sister who speaks English.  Hmmm.

She might need to learn to share a bit more anyway, cause just last Saturday she whined nearly all the walk home because I split a cookie with her instead of giving her the whole thing.  "I want the other part..." was her mantra for at least five minutes.

She likes to let her hair tickle her back when she takes a bath and as she arches her head back she'll tell me hair is getting long.  In fact since it's curly it's still shoulder length.  I've only cut her bangs about three times in her life and the back only once to get rid of some split ends.

Lately she's into making her dolls, or rather making me make her dolls talk.  I am told to make Rapunzel and Flynn talk and if I don't do it fast enough or constantly, she'll whine in the way only little children can. And though I treasure the moments playing with her, sometimes when she says this it's like the proverbial knife being brandished in a horror movie moment, with suspenseful shrieking music in the background.  Because I am totally out of inspiration to make her dollies talk and just want to veg....

Luckily my little girl has been well trained by (guess who again?) me to enjoy being "cozy on the couch."  From a young age I would say, come on, let's rest on the couch.  And sometimes to coax me into playing with her dolls she'll put pillows on the carpet for me or suggest we play on the couch. She also loves for me to stroke her hair on the couch. "Do it every day, mommy," she'll say.

She sometimes astounds us with her wisdom then says things that remind us she's still just a little girl.  And though she has her Runaway Bunny moments where she says she wants to fly away from me and that I'm "not her friend" (a major pre-school insult), usually by the evening she's come around again.  And she'll say sweetly, "Mommy, you be the mommy and I'll be the baby."  Those are roles I'm perfectly fine with. 

Four is fickle

Nobody tells you that after the Terrible Twos and Troublesome Threes, that four is Far From Finished. Or maybe they did but I wasn't listening because I was too distracted by the challenges of young toddlerhood to worry about what was around the corner. Naively, I thought that once potty-training was finished and pre-school started that things would magically fall into place.

But as my high-school friend and fellow mom, Lauren, says, once you figure out the stage they're in, they change. How true.

Whereas four-year olds are definitely more verbal and can at least tell you what's wrong, more often than not, they don't want to tell you. At least mine doesn't. She'd rather whine and cry and roll up into a ball in her room than come out and say she's sorry for swatting one of us or going postal on us for asking her to eat dinner. I can say "use your words" till I'm blue in the face, but until she decides she wants to get out of her tantrum mode, not much will happen. Or I must trick her into easing back into a good mood by pretending nothing has happened or getting her to help me with a small chore.

All of this would be tough enough without the "outside world" giving me stares and/or unsolicited advice. I'm still a bit at odds with the in-laws and sometimes my husband as to how one should react when a child is screaming because they don't want anymore food. It's been tough lately. Once again (!) I've been reminded of my cultural differences in terms of child-rearing. Luckily I recently met a Canadian expat with two small kids and she's been a great comfort reminding me that I'm not some kind of slimy green alien with radical ideas.

The thing is, four is difficult. They are schizophrenic. They are becoming model citizens with their pleases and thank yous, but they are also primal beings wanting their way. All the time. A year or two shy of the age of reason but past the babbling baby stage when you could just blame their bad behavior on being babies.


And then there are those golden moments when she plays contentedly and tells me hilarious stories. She says funny things all the time and I really should write them down more. She tells me I'm her "snuggle puppy", from a book we like to read. And sings songs about "fascinating" cause it was the word on the day on Sesame Street. And tells me she's shy at school because her "volume isn't working." I can tell she's got a mind that's taking it all in and sometimes she is the sweetest thing. But sometimes she's a devil child.

So, I'll just have to hold tight and enjoy the good moments, like her holding my hand tightly as we walk (when she's willing to hold my hand, and when she's willing to walk...), her snuggles and her silly laughs. I love her despite the tantrums and I know she'll grow out of them (just like I did, right, mom and dad?).

So we'll end on a positive note, with her dancing away to that catchy Shakira song.