A time once travelled

Hand in hand going to David’s School

Me: David il faut vraiment mettre ton pull quand tu vas jouer dehors. Il fait froid aujourd’hui!

David (looking up): Quoi maman?

Me: J’ai dit tu mets ton pull quand tu joues dans la cours de l’école!

David: Quoi maman? Je mets mon poule? Comme, comme poulet?

Me (yanked his hand unintentionally, surprised): I didn’t say chicken, I said pull! You can’t wear chicken, can you now?

David: Ben, si maman t’as dit pull comme poulet! C’est pas ça heh?

Me: Ok, so how do you pronounce it?

David: Pull (pronouncing it so easily like a true French).

Me: Ok, pull (sounding like pyull)

David (laughing out loud): Non, c’est pull! Pas poule, pas pyul, mais pull! (pyl – according to a french dix)

Me: Ok, ok, stop lecturing me with the pull. I am telling you when you go play outside do not forget to put on your jacket! Ok, ok David?!

David: Oui maman… et tu parles pas français avec moi! T’es nulle! Tu parles English seulement!

 

My French language lesson is so fucking starting oooveer! This time with a pre-schooler teacher!

After a three-week vacation without the parents

David: Lynneth, Lynneth viens ici (come here)! Manu, manu regarde (look)!

Me (shock): Oh la, I think I picked up the wrong boy in the train station! Pa where is David?

David (looking confused): Mais, je suis la Lynneth!

Me: I’m not sure, I might have picked up the wrong David!

David: Pourquoi?  (Why?)

Me: Well, three weeks ago my little David calls me mama, he calls manu papa. Then now here’s a little boy calling us by our names! What happened to our David? You are not my son, are you?

David (giving me a stupid smile, then laughs): Mais non maman! Je blague! Je suis ton fils! Tu es ma maman, et manu mon papa! (I’m joking mama. I’m your son, you are my mama and manu is my papa!)

 

English:

Me: David, I know you understand English. When I ask you a question can you please answer me back in English!

David: Completely ignoring me.

Me: David, I’m talking to you!

David: Yes mama!

Me: Ok, so what did you eat in the canteen today?

David (hesitated, search the words): Oui, J’eat des poisons avec des rice!

(I ate fish with rice!)

 

I was never an egg, and you are not a toilet!

Pa and I were watching a film, then David suddenly appeared in time to see a flash of a woman’s face all twisted while giving birth!

David suddenly looks so concerned and started running us down with a marathon of questions: Ma, pourquoi elle fait ça? Pourquoi elle pleur? Elle a mal maman? Pourquoi?

(ma why is she doing that? Why is she crying? Is she hurt? Why?)

I tried to give him an honest answer (papa next to us listening):

“Well the woman is hurt because she is giving birth. You know there’s a baby inside her tummy, and the baby wants to go out, so she really needs to push hard, that’s why she makes that face. It hurts a little bit because the baby is big. And when the baby is out she cries because she is happy. You know sometimes we cry when we are happy….

(I guess I should have stopped there but I didn’t)…

You know like you, you started really, really tiny like the size of an egg, and you were here inside my tummy. Then you started getting bigger and bigger, until I heard you shouting “mama, I want to go out, I want to go out!” So mama pushed really hard like the woman, then you came out, then I was so happy, papa also was so happy to see you!

David, creases forming on the forehead: Mais, maman, je n’étais pas an egg! J’étais un bebe, mais pas egg! J’étais dans ton tummy maman? Pourquoi?

(But mama, I was not an egg, I was a baby but not an egg! I was in your tummy mama? Why?)

I was lost. Somehow I could not find the right words. Papa to the rescue!

Papa (with much enthusiasm): Parce que avant, papa a fait un petit pipi dans mamans, et puis David était formé! Il était petit, et après il a grandi, grandi!

(Because before papa did a little pee inside mama and then David was form)

David is now shock: Quoi papa?! Tu fais pas pipi dans maman! T’es fou! Tu fais pipi dans les toilettes là-bas Pas dans maman!  (What papa? You don’t pee inside mama, you’re crazy, you pee in the toilet!)

We burst out laughing!

David didn’t get the joke, poor thing: Maman pourquoi j’étais an egg? (Why was I an egg?)

Me, completely lost of what to say: Well because it’s like that David. You see the dinosaurs, they started as an egg, then they grow bigger and bigger, they have to go out!

David, pulling his t-shirt up, caressing his tummy: Mais maman, je n’ai pas de bébé dedans!  Turned to his papa and asked: Papa t’as un bebe dans ton tummy?

(Mama I do not have a baby inside! Papa do you have baby in your tummy?)

 

My mother instinct was right when more than four years ago, I said to myself I may stop doing David’s website one day due to a simple reason that I would be trespassing his privacy. I thought then that I had to make a border line of trumpeting his progress, achievements and anything in-between for fear that he won’t be happy about it once he is all grown up.

That grown-up came earlier than expected. Much to my surprise. I mean for heaven’s sakes he is only 4 and a half!

Last summer in the South, we met Haze and her lovely kids, Hilda and her princess and Makis. The picnic mat was already spread on the ground and the kids were already playing around when we arrived. After the bises and introduction, and me settling down, David grabbed my arm purposely and whispered something in my ear. I did not understand what he said first and asked him to talk louder. I sensed that he was being extra timid and wanted to tell something for my ears only. I gave all my attention, bowing my head to listen to what he had to say.

“Maman, tu parles pas de moi, d’accord?” (Mama, you do not talk about me ok?) I did not see it coming. I raised my eyes to his with full of silent surprises and questions. When he did not get an answer, he shook my arm once more and said “d’accord maman? D’accord?”. With such intensity. I said ok, automatically, not yet fully recovered of what my son has just said. When he still was looking at me seemingly unconvinced of my answer, I whispered to his ear that I won’t talk about him…

It made me wonder that whole afternoon up to the night. I could not shake off the negative feeling. Why would he say that? Why did he say that with anxiety written all over his face? Did I say that when I was his age? Is that why he gives me inquisitive look when I talk to his teacher in front of him?

I surely am bubbly when I’m with my friends who are probably yawning behind my back when I talk because the only topic of the conversation is David. Lol! I don’t really mean it. It just comes automatically. And I love talking about his progress, the humours in-between and all. I’m proud of him. And now I have a feeling my son finds it demeaning to talk about him. Sheyt, and now I’m posting it! Grrrr!

Pa complains that I don’t update David’s website anymore. He loves it dearly. I love it. We like to re-live the special moments when he was a baby. Videos and pictures are ok, but re-reading our impressions and describing the moments in words make it closer to that special time. But there’s no question that David is growing and the level of self-consciousness is sharper. He even gets annoyed when we take pictures of him. There’s a limit to all these and to define that is very hard to do. At what point he personally feels intruded by my writings, our conversations, is left to my own mother-instinct. And this mother-instinct loves to record anything she can grab! One day my son will crucify me and marks: your mother instinct sucks…. then goes to lie down on the famous couch, talking to some weirdo shrink! Ha ha ha…

 

I know it’s no laughing joke, but I hope this is a passing stage he goes through…

Does your child go through similar stage?

 

I do not know where and how to start this entry. I do not know how to title it and I do not know what to write. I have had plenty of things to say before events happen, but as soon as they are done, I’m lost. So I write this piece whatever comes to mind.

This year has been crazy, to say the least. And it’s not yet over. All the travels we’ve done have been actually planned by hubby and I had no single contribution to it when it comes to planning and organizing. At the end of they day, he just informed me of what had been booked and reserved, what are the itineraries. Except perhaps for that four-day trip back to Nice, where my office exceptionally gave us one free day off. I helped him book my ticket. And that was an achievement on my part. Shame!

Flying is my worst fear. It started since I have David. I used to enjoy the whole package. Packing, tension at the airport, the waiting to board, the sound of the pilot giving details of the flight, the air hosts giving air safety instructions, the whole shebang! Heck I even have good appetite on board, and I used to even sit by the window so that I can witness the take off and landing.

This year has been a tornado to my system. I agreed the trips to US and Canada because it was a promised by hubby that he would bring me to that continent once I get my French nationality. I could not say no. The first trip to the south, landing in Marseilles was to save time. TGV would take us more than five hours compared to an hour and a half by air. I mean really, we had breakfast in Paris and lunch by the beach in Frejus. The second trip was due to the fact that I want to be with David.

The trip to Venise came with an argument. In fairness to hubby, he planned it months ago. And to my crazy brain months ago, was like long ago so I said yes. The day before the trip, I got cold feet, and wanted to cancel it. I just freaked out knowing that David will be left in Paris with lola and that I and hubby will be flying. You know, my nutty brain is quite capable of inventing morbid images quite nasty to keep myself insane.

So every take off, every landing I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. My brain calls the names of all heavenly creatures. Then want to shut it off by red wine. That helps. Really. I try to rationalize the air stats, the hundreds of flights going to every possible corner in the world. Every time my feet feel the steady ground and the sense of weight back again, I feel so dumb stupid. Really stupid. I even find myself talking “what the fuck were you so scared about!” Nuts!

So yeah, there’s one more trip to do before the year ends. Another fear to face. I told hubby days ago, this year is crazy. I do enjoyed it all and surely will enjoy the coming vacay to Phils, but really I won’t do it again. I made him promised that next year, if we get to travel, it would be not as much as this year!

He makes fun of me alright! And I said, anyway, I don’t get “French fried” every year, we do not celebrate 10th anniv every year, and summer comes only once per year! And well we are not millionaire to maintain this lifestyle!

He laughs. Confirms that I’m nuts! Because he loves flying.

Some people just have it. I don’t!