Good Old Days

When I was a child, I lived in a small village not too far away from Ningbo, China. By ‘not to far’ I’m using today’s standard – about an hour and half driving (Ningbo is three hours drive from Shanghai). Back then, it’s perhaps a day’s drive, or more. I wouldn’t know for sure, because I never went to Ningbo that far. Even if I did, there was no road all the way to Ningbo so I would have to trek in the between.

I lived with my grandparents in a house with no running water. No one in the village had. But we were not in short of water. We had our supply of clean and clear water from the river running through the village. In warm days the river was my bath tub, and often I came back with dinner as well – fishes were abundant and shrimps were easy to catch, back then.

There was no TV of course. In fact there was no electricity. So the dinner was always served before the sunset so that we would see what we were eating. After the sun set, everyone got together in the yards – every family’s yards were connected one to another with no fence so it’s almost like one big communual yard shared by many families – and chatted over some sunflower seeds and a cup of tea (or a glass of rice wine in the case of my grandfather) under moon light and trillions of stars. We kids ran around, somehow managed not to hit nor fall too hard with no light on. Perhaps it was because of the glow from the glowworms we caught.

I had never seen a commercial toy at that time. But I loved the paper birds and butterflies that my grandfather made for me. They really flew.

My grandfather was, and still is, one of my favourite person. He carried me on his shoulders to the open air movies. He let me taste his rice wine (I was perhaps the first drunk baby in the entire human history). He read me stories from black and white pocket-size story books he collected and I loved the stories. It never occured to me till recently that my grandfather was never schooled so I wonder how he managed to teach himself to read. I would never be able to ask him the question in person. He passed away six years ago.

The village was located in a valley surrounded by mountains. I spent my days running wild in the mountain in summer, sometimes with no shoes on. Shoes were expensive things so they were reserved for the occassions when they were not easy to break. But I was lucky to have an older sister so that all my clothes were taken care of. My first brand new cloth didn’t arrive till when I was in primary school. It was such an event that I still remember exactly what the dress was like – the dress was in the most beautiful blue with white laces around the neck. I loved it.

I left the village at five to go to the town to join my parents and my sister, and to get ready for school. For many years to come, I would return every summer to spend shcool holiday there with my grandparents. Since my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved away to be closer to her children. I never went there again. There was no more reason to.

Now I live 12-hour airplane away. Our home is next to bush. Birds visit the backyard often. We don’t have TV at home. There is no street lights so when the night falls the stars become brighter.

At times, it feels like back in good old days. Almost.

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To Nina, who would grow up in an entirely different, yet somehow similar, world

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Food, Drink, Man, Baby

When it comes to food, Nicolas is no joking. He is a French after all and above all.

So naturally, he has strong opinion on what Nina eats, where, how and when.

As we were finally ready to introduce solids to Nina after five months or so, Nicolas reflected on what would be Nina’s first non-milk food in her life. In fact, it took him three days to decide.

It wouldn’t be rice cereal (as suggested by the most experts in Australia) because it’s so banal, and ‘no one in France feeds their babies with rice cereal’. It has to be a legume. It has to taste good. It shouldn’t be sweet though. It has to look attractive. It has to be home cooked and pureed. Oh it has to be organic (we had a long heated discussion on this topic, and the concensus is that when I shop I won’t make any special trips to organic shops, and he can do whatever that pleases him and I won’t look at the bill).

Finally he decided on carrots.

That’s what I suggested at the first place.

Nina did seem to like it. She ate more than a half teaspoon, as I was expecting after what’s written on many brochures I was given.

We went to a talk at a local early childhood center (a wonderful Australian government organization to provide support for parents on anything and everything about baby), which suggests that the solids shall be given about one hour after the milk – when the baby is not too full (otherwise she won’t have room for anything else) but not too hungry either (otherwise she might be too frustrated to try anything new). But Nicolas believes that food, even given to a baby, shall be served at meal time.

‘It’s not only about food itself. It’s about the whole experience’. Nicolas is certainly a French (oh have I mentioned this already?). He prefers that Nina has her food while we are ready to have our meals, so that she feels part of the whole family activity.

We bought a highchair, so that Nina can sit at the dining table with us, as what a highchair is designed for. What I didn’t realize is that Nina is not supposed to go into the highchair at any other time except meal time. Nina should associate the highchair with meal time only, according to Nicolas.

Alas, my dream of chaining Nina to the highchair while I run a few house chores is a dream never to come true.

So How Have You Been?

Recently I was asked more than once how I have been since the birth of Nina. Here is how I have replied: the first month was really hard. The second month was quite hard. The third month was easier. Ever since I feel like I have been on holiday …

A friend commented that I am the first ‘new’ mother that he knows of who describes the early months as holiday.

I guess the main reason is that Nina has been very gentle to me – she lets me sleep through the night ever since she was 9 weeks. I know I am extremely lucky for it because some women do not get to sleep whole night for years … And this has nothing to do with her dad being French! (see the previous post)… Sometimes I would get more sleep than I had normally had before Nina came along.

I have been quite active from quite early on, which helps as well. We went for a lot of sightseeing when my mom was here with us. We go on walks when the weather is good (which is the case most of time). I go out for lunch and dinner with friends, sometimes without Nina. I have been back to Chinglish regularly. We went away for overnight trip. We go to swimming pool. We went to watch whales. We spent nice time on the beach when it was still warm. We visited many markets and museums and art galleries and so on. I read books. We even managed to climb the Harbour Bridge. Except that every now and then I have to fit in a feeding session and things have to go VERY slowly, these are all sorts of things that I would have been doing on a holiday anyway (ok fair enough I didn’t have to limit myself to pram-friendly tracks only … ).

Another big reason is that we have moved the house (when Nina was 9 weeks, against the advice of all brochures and books – no house moving within the first year!) to a place right next to the bush (this is how Aussis call forest). From every room we see trees and trees and trees, and hear birds and birds and birds. Some friends say our house is like a holiday house, and other say they feel like going on a camping ground when coming to our place. This is the type of place I would have liked to stay on a holiday, and now I live in such a place every single day.

So why wouldn’t I feel like being on a (special) holiday?

‘French Children Don’t Throw Food’

French Children Don't throw Food’French Children Don’t Throw Food’ is the title of a book I recently read. Written by an American mother, Pamela, living in Paris with his British husband and 3 young kids born in Paris, the book attempts to analyze the difference between French (or rather Parisian) parenting and Anglo-Saxon parenting. She has decided that she is a fan of French parenting, in which parents still have a life and children behave at dinner table.

After reading each chapter, I would ask Nicolas if he thinks it’s true or not from his childhood memories.

– ‘Did you always have 4pm snack and nothing else in the between of all meals’?

– ‘Of course’!

(Now I know why he always wonders around the kitchen about that time if at home, and how come he can wait till 8pm or later for dinner at working days while I’m usually hungry to death by then.)

– ‘Is a child not saying ‘bonjour’ (good morning/afternoon/hello) considered impolite’?

– ‘Of course!’

– ‘Did you spend weekends making cakes with your mom’?

– ‘Of course’!

(This explains why he makes heavenly delicious cakes. Lucky me.)

After a few ‘of course’ I stopped checking in with Nicolas. Of course he’s not going to oppose the idea that French parenting is the best parenting on this entire planet!

Yet, I’m not too sure about certain things that she talks about in the book. For example, according to her, French babies will all start to sleep through the night from 3 months on. And the reason? Because they know that their moms are going back to work after 3 months! I do personally know a few French mothers who took longer-than-three-month maternity leave, and I did hear the stories of their babies waking up at night long after 3 months …

With that said, I did observe from a few French children around me that they tend to behave, better than I would have expected. At least, they would always ask if they can leave the dining table if everyone else is still there. What I particularly like about French table manner is that there is NEVER TV at the background. No TV, no ipad, no phone, no newspaper. Meal time is conversation time with food and drink. What a contrast from many meals I had back at my home country, sadly.

To better validate what the book is talking about, I decided to consult the expert. So I asked my mother-in-law to try to find the book in France (I would guess this book has been translated in French?) and then tell me what she thinks about it. I will perhaps get more than ‘of course’ as response.

Being bilingual ‘boosts brain power’

Being bilingual ‘boosts brain power’ – I didn’t say this, but from some scientists!

I came across this article from BBC today: US researchers from Northwestern University say bilingualism is a form of brain training – a mental “work out” that fine-tunes the mind.

Quote from the article:

‘Speaking two languages profoundly affects the brain and changes how the nervous system responds to sound, lab tests revealed.’

Prof Nina Kraus, who led the research, said: “The bilingual’s enhanced experience with sound results in an auditory system that is highly efficient, flexible and focused in its automatic sound processing, especially in challenging or novel listening conditions.”

Co-author Viorica Marian said: “People do crossword puzzles and other activities to keep their minds sharp. But the advantages we’ve discovered in dual language speakers come automatically simply from knowing and using two languages.

“It seems that the benefits of bilingualism are particularly powerful and broad, and include attention, inhibition and encoding of sound.”

 

Isn’t it a great news for all bilinguals/multilinguals, and the future ones!