Juliet, with her face right next to my face, saying very distinctly, "Wake up!" The "wake" and the "up" were like two separate sentences, very clear and without a trace of an accent. That was how I woke up this morning! What a delight, to open your eyes and see a beautiful little face inches from your own, watching you intently and then smiling with great satisfaction when you did, indeed, wake up.
Matt and Jeanne had the day off work today, so we planned a trip to the center of Paris; Jeanne had a facial scheduled, while Matt, Juliet and I were to shop before meeting her for lunch. We had a great time, but it was tough for Juliet, as she is used to eating lunch at noon and napping soon thereafter. We didn't even meet Jeanne for lunch until 1:30, so Juliet was justifiably cranky. Everyone's mood improved immensely when we had dessert at Cafe' Pouchekine at Printemps'. Not a bad way to end a meal if you like the very best French pastries.
Tomorrow Grandpa is arriving, and Juliet and I plan to make a carrot cake for his birthday celebration. I have heard she is quite capable in the kitchen, so we may wait until Grandpa gets here before starting his cake; that way he can enjoy the experience and maybe take some pictures. I don't remember at what age Matthew started helping me in the kitchen; perhaps he was as young as two. Juliet has been waiting for Grandpa to get here. The other day Jeanne was on the phone, and I asked Juliet who she thought Jeanne was talking to; she said "Grandpa!!" Then after Jeanne hung up, Juliet ran to the window to look for Grandpa. Tomorrow will be a very fun day.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The Human Dynamo
Help me understand how a two and a half year old who eats about two cups of food a day can have so much energy. Admittedly, when she is tired she says, "I'm going to sleep", and then promptly does so (after tearing around the apartment gathering pillow, doudous and binkie, then leaping into bed). But when she's awake, she is a whirlwind of action: coloring madly, singing at the top of her lungs or quietly to herself, splashing and "swimming" in the bathtub, spreading Play-Doh from one end of the living room to the other, cooking dinner on her play stove, with lots of pot banging and food hurling, and generally being enthusiastic in everything she undertakes.
If she's not enthusiastic about something she will let you know in no uncertain terms. She is not enthusiastic about: trying new foods, cleaning up any mess she's in the process of making, having her hair brushed, or coming when you call her. I don't mean to suggest that she's bad; she's just a typical two year old who is trying to learn her place in the world, and to learn how you fit into her world. In other words, are you Mom and Dad, who make her obey the rules and rarely give in to her caprices, or are you her American Grandma, who might bend the rules and likely will give in if you cry loudly enough?
Juliet's American Grandma just read "Bringing Up Be'be", written by an American mother living in Paris who was totally impressed by French parenting. After reading the book I am totally impressed with French parenting too, so I don't want to mess up what Matt and Jeanne are trying to do. This means that I have to make Juliet obey the rules, and give in rarely to her whims. It's really hard, because she's trying to push the envelope, and I'm trying to have her adore me by letting her do and have whatever she wants. Of course that's not good for her; I know this. Kids need discipline and boundaries, so I will give Juliet discipline and boundaries and maybe sometimes an extra chocolate biscuit. I am the American Grandma, after all!
If she's not enthusiastic about something she will let you know in no uncertain terms. She is not enthusiastic about: trying new foods, cleaning up any mess she's in the process of making, having her hair brushed, or coming when you call her. I don't mean to suggest that she's bad; she's just a typical two year old who is trying to learn her place in the world, and to learn how you fit into her world. In other words, are you Mom and Dad, who make her obey the rules and rarely give in to her caprices, or are you her American Grandma, who might bend the rules and likely will give in if you cry loudly enough?
Juliet's American Grandma just read "Bringing Up Be'be", written by an American mother living in Paris who was totally impressed by French parenting. After reading the book I am totally impressed with French parenting too, so I don't want to mess up what Matt and Jeanne are trying to do. This means that I have to make Juliet obey the rules, and give in rarely to her whims. It's really hard, because she's trying to push the envelope, and I'm trying to have her adore me by letting her do and have whatever she wants. Of course that's not good for her; I know this. Kids need discipline and boundaries, so I will give Juliet discipline and boundaries and maybe sometimes an extra chocolate biscuit. I am the American Grandma, after all!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
A Little Girl
We've seen Juliet on Skype many, many times since Christmas, but we haven't seen her in person. Wow! Has she ever changed! Her body, her face, her speech, her mannerisms, her actions: everything has changed. Though we saw her almost weekly for eight months, it didn't prepare me for how grown-up she is in many ways, and how much like a 2 and 1/2 year old she is in most ways. Why didn't we notice these changes on Skype??
She is taller than I imagined, and lanky. Very talkative, and she runs everywhere. Walking? What's that? She understands English but speaks mostly French. Like most 2-year-olds, she wants to do everything herself; I don't mind. When she gets frustrated enough, she will ask for help. Juliet's father was rather cautious; if you warned him against something, he wouldn't do it. She takes a warning as a challenge. So, you think I shouldn't run across these rocks in my bare feet? Watch this! And she's off, giggling and screaming with pleasure.
I think I'll be a little challenged myself, this week. Without Tom here to help, it may be a bit of a struggle. For example, Juliet wants to walk when we're going some place, but soon tires and wants to be carried. Grandma can't carry her very far. I guess we'll take the stroller and hope for the best. Grandma needs to be more like a French grandparent, anyway; they don't put up with any nonsense. They are firm and loving, but especially firm in their dealings with the grandchildren. So my goal is to be the kind of grandparent my French daughter-in-law trusts with her child. I don't want to undo the work Juliet's parents have already done.
The other thing is, Juliet is toilet trained, but tends to wait until the last minute to tell you she needs to peepee immediately if not sooner. I'll probably know where all the public restrooms are in Levallois by the time we leave. At any rate, I plan to relax and enjoy my granddaughter, help her work on her English, take a few trips to the park or the market, do some cooking together (I've heard she's quite good in the kitchen) and get to know one another. She is a little girl now, and the last time I saw her she was a toddler. She's growing up too fast!
She is taller than I imagined, and lanky. Very talkative, and she runs everywhere. Walking? What's that? She understands English but speaks mostly French. Like most 2-year-olds, she wants to do everything herself; I don't mind. When she gets frustrated enough, she will ask for help. Juliet's father was rather cautious; if you warned him against something, he wouldn't do it. She takes a warning as a challenge. So, you think I shouldn't run across these rocks in my bare feet? Watch this! And she's off, giggling and screaming with pleasure.
I think I'll be a little challenged myself, this week. Without Tom here to help, it may be a bit of a struggle. For example, Juliet wants to walk when we're going some place, but soon tires and wants to be carried. Grandma can't carry her very far. I guess we'll take the stroller and hope for the best. Grandma needs to be more like a French grandparent, anyway; they don't put up with any nonsense. They are firm and loving, but especially firm in their dealings with the grandchildren. So my goal is to be the kind of grandparent my French daughter-in-law trusts with her child. I don't want to undo the work Juliet's parents have already done.
The other thing is, Juliet is toilet trained, but tends to wait until the last minute to tell you she needs to peepee immediately if not sooner. I'll probably know where all the public restrooms are in Levallois by the time we leave. At any rate, I plan to relax and enjoy my granddaughter, help her work on her English, take a few trips to the park or the market, do some cooking together (I've heard she's quite good in the kitchen) and get to know one another. She is a little girl now, and the last time I saw her she was a toddler. She's growing up too fast!
Friday, August 10, 2012
Our Parents' Grandchildren
Our parents' grandchildren. Our children's grandparents. I had never really thought about that connection until becoming a grandparent myself. I hadn't realized how different that relationship is from that of a parent and child. Perhaps older people can empathize with moving slower, needing help with feisty buttons and being afraid of falling. We're willing to wait even if it takes a long time to put pants on, and willing to help with that button if you get really frustrated, and willing (even delighted) to hold your hand as we walk. Holding your hand steadies us as much as it steadies you!
Our only child Matthew was the first grandchild on both sides of the family, so of course he was oohed and ahed over, given cookies for breakfast and generally spoiled as much as our folks could get away with. Funny thing, though--Matthew didn't get spoiled. He just developed a very close, loving relationship with all four of his grandparents. My father died when Matt was in high school. I later found out that Matt carried a picture of my father in his wallet when he graduated, so that my dad could be a part of the celebration. Tom's father died a few years ago, at Christmas time. Tom and I were in France at the time, so Matt flew home with us for the funeral, and to comfort his grandma.
Tom's mother died after having heart surgery earlier this summer. She came out of surgery in a coma and never recovered. At her bedside we talked about how happy she had been the morning of her surgery; she was so sure the surgery would help her feel better, and best of all, Matt had called her from France the night before. Matt flew home for her funeral, too, and it was great comfort to aunts and uncles as well as his own father.
While home for the funeral we visited my mom, in a nursing home in Rockford, Illinois. She also had heart surgery last year, and came out of it sound of body but not of mind. She doesn't always know for sure who is in the picture or who is in the room. She's living in the past, but doesn't seem to
have any physical pains or major complaints. Sometimes she's very anxious about "needing money", or "getting a job", so we just try to reassure her. But in a way she's no longer there for Matthew or any of us. So in essence he's lost all of his grandparents. That connection, that very special connection between two generations, remains only in photographs and memories, and in the gait my lanky son has when he walks down the beach and from a distance I could swear it's my Dad...my Dad who's been gone 21 years, but lives on in my son.
Our only child Matthew was the first grandchild on both sides of the family, so of course he was oohed and ahed over, given cookies for breakfast and generally spoiled as much as our folks could get away with. Funny thing, though--Matthew didn't get spoiled. He just developed a very close, loving relationship with all four of his grandparents. My father died when Matt was in high school. I later found out that Matt carried a picture of my father in his wallet when he graduated, so that my dad could be a part of the celebration. Tom's father died a few years ago, at Christmas time. Tom and I were in France at the time, so Matt flew home with us for the funeral, and to comfort his grandma.
Tom's mother died after having heart surgery earlier this summer. She came out of surgery in a coma and never recovered. At her bedside we talked about how happy she had been the morning of her surgery; she was so sure the surgery would help her feel better, and best of all, Matt had called her from France the night before. Matt flew home for her funeral, too, and it was great comfort to aunts and uncles as well as his own father.
While home for the funeral we visited my mom, in a nursing home in Rockford, Illinois. She also had heart surgery last year, and came out of it sound of body but not of mind. She doesn't always know for sure who is in the picture or who is in the room. She's living in the past, but doesn't seem to
have any physical pains or major complaints. Sometimes she's very anxious about "needing money", or "getting a job", so we just try to reassure her. But in a way she's no longer there for Matthew or any of us. So in essence he's lost all of his grandparents. That connection, that very special connection between two generations, remains only in photographs and memories, and in the gait my lanky son has when he walks down the beach and from a distance I could swear it's my Dad...my Dad who's been gone 21 years, but lives on in my son.
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