Bringing Up Bebe

Ideal reader: Expecting parents with a subtle craving for the ex-patriotic life, preferably seeking source material to say "well, in France they..."

Not ideal reader: Those who think croissants are for fancy people and the French are raging socialists.

This book fell victim to my complete disinterest in preparing for a baby (I’m more of a wing it gal). Shame on me. I highly recommend reading this book while you’re pregnant. For an author experienced in more salacious topics, Pamela Drucker does an excellent job telling stories about parenting from the moment your feet pop out of the stirrups.

(or you roll out of the operating table, or you get the adoption call, or your surrogate’s feet pop out of the stirrups, etcetera etcetera)

My favorite overall theme from this book: give your children structure, but plenty of loose freedom within it. The author was mesmerized by their set rules combined with a rather laissez-faire approach to monitoring their children. They seemed to express shock and horror to the fussy business of helicopter parenting and constant reprimands. It felt appropriate that only the French could make the hard part look effortless and the easy part look frivolous, buttoning up the rules of parenting like a nicely tailored coat.

Helpful (or validating) Advice:

1.        Don’t stop your life. This wasn’t a tip so much as assurance. Mine was what one would call an unplanned pregnancy. I’ll spare you all the details, but an assumed miscarriage turned risky pregnancy turned strong pregnancy and heartbeat only confirmed the little pariah had grown talons and stuck em into her walls. I was so relieved. I was also like “OH GOD. OH FUDGE. MY FREEDOM. MY SLEEP.” And it turns out that yeah, my sleep was fudged, but Tim and I spent enough childless years in adulthood that we were pretty baked into our free-living ways. Her nap times fluctuate on the weekends; her mealtimes bend and fold around our plans. We travel with and without her regularly, acknowledging one another’s autonomy outside of our trio. In one scene, the author watched a French couple drink martinis at a beachfront cocktail bar as their children played on the beach further away. I try to manifest that scene every single day. 

2.        Give the child autonomy, too. She’s wild and free range, my baby, so this one was also validating. In America, we just call it “Fuck around and find out” parenting. But in Paris, it’s like, not cool to not let your kid fuck around and find out. They call it giving kids autonomie. It’s all about branding.

But when I think of the freedom and the many (MANY) falls and spills this toddler has experienced because we let her, I also think of her at two months old with a BMI that rivaled a 90’s supermodel and health that broke my heart. Now, at 16-months-old, she is fearless. She uses a beautiful, thick set of thighs to climb to the top of the largest slide and fly down it with confidence, screaming like a banshee. She can dangle from handlebars for a freakishly long time. She can ski with 4-year-olds and she can’t even talk. I credit autonomie.

3.        Be polite. Simple and elegant, with an emphasis on saying please, thank you, hello, and good-bye. The French insist on mastering the French language before children read – including the proper and consistent use of these four magic words. I find this concept as sweet as petit fours and I swear by the 44% French in my blood as 23 and Me is my witness: I will do my best to instill these four words into her babbly little vocabulary.

4.        Make food fun. I loved the food chapter (minus coursed meals, but I’ll get there). I am determined to avoid a picky eater, and I swear the tips from this book have helped me expand her little palette. Prepare colorful foods and when a kid doesn’t like something – keep preparing it in different ways until they do. This has worked. When we’re out at restaurants we don’t order from a kid’s menu. She eats what we eat. She loves black olives, sautéed spinach, and tikka masala. The author shadowed the team preparing meals at her children’s daycare. It gave me an idea of what foods and flavors to pack for her lunches. Her nanny has even complimented my efforts, athank you.

5.        Be firm and clear you are the authoritative figure — My child is prone to behavior that requires a “no” more than a “yes” – making the recommendation you use equal parts yes and no in your firm directions difficult for parents like me. But there was a chapter where a Parisian friend coached the author on how to firmly say no to her naughty child, and do it in a way that is firm, clear, and full of belief the child will listen. It sounds a little crunchy, but it was really inspiring. It put me in a better headspace when I tell my daughter “no”. I also find her more receptive to my instruction after this chapter.

6.        Bedtime. At 8pm, the author’s children go into their room. They don’t have to sleep, but they know they need to be in there quieting down and as a result, they have learned to put themselves to sleep.

Not for me advice:

1.         Implement “the pause”. Once again, we Americans brand this strategy as “cry it out” – a term that often leaves a circle of moms at each other’s throats, in tears, or, at the very least, mentally storing who they will NOT be nominating for the PTA in 6 years. And the French call it “the pause”. La pause. And it’s just that, they say, a pause when a child cries. They have a whole slew of French child psychiatrists famed for pushing the pause. We did some cry it out and pauses, because it was sort of a natural thing to do, but the book made it feel needlessly elaborate and the catalyst behind their children’s excellent patience. Which is probably true, I’m just bitter because I thought we did pauses. Mostly because we were too tired not to pause. And there isn’t a patient bone in my child’s body.  

2.        Serve meals in courses. I’m not feeding my kid a god damned four course meal. I won’t do it. I live in America where we are impressed if our $250,000 per year daycare includes a free snack of Kraft mac n cheese. I’ll have my next baby in France and let your creche feed it a four-course meal on the house. Til then.

3.        Praise selectively. I’m an extraverted, American Libra in marketing and creative writing whose love language is words of affirmation. I am obsessed with my child and will need to squeal at even her most impressive shits. As God is my witness, I will never praise selectively. 

Worthy Note:

1.        The entire concept of a creche. So, the French have state-funded daycares, and they are like the Gilded Age for babies. Children are fed four course meals where a butler presents each dish to them, discusses the source of the ingredients as they serve the children, uh babies. And then the children, um, babies, politely wait to eat until everyone is served. This repeats through each course until the leader girl baby stands up and asks the other girl babies if they should go through and leave the boy babies to their port.

Overall – I give this book a 4/5. It was good and probably my fastest parenting book read. Pamela Drucker is a writer who enjoys her work, a trait that trickles off the page and makes the reader enjoy her work, too. It had an air of pretention, but let’s be honest. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be French and I wouldn’t have believed a word. 

Now, look. A baby named after a region of France.

I had not taken a single picture of Goose on her birthday, so I dressed her up in this Parisian Toile Print dress from her big day. We set out to do a chic little photo shoot. As I chased her across the townhouse complex, buttons unbuttoned and ribbons askew, I thought “ah oui oui! I am bringing up bebe!”