Obviously, French parents don’t do everything right. And they don’t all do the same things. The keys describe France’s national conventional wisdom. It’s what French parenting books, magazines, and experts widely say that you should do; and what most of the middle-class parents I know actually do, or at least believe they should be doing. (Though, a Parisian friend of mine said she planned to give a copy to her brother, so he could “become more French.”)
A lot of “French” wisdom feels like common sense. I’ve gotten letters from readers describing the overlaps between French parenting and Montessori, or the teachings of a Hungarian-born woman named Magda Gerber. Others assured me it’s what we Americans did before Reaganomics, the psychotherapy boom, and that study saying that poor kids don’t hear enough words when they’re little. (Let’s just say that the American upper-middle class massively overcompensated.)
But some French ideas have a power and elegance that’s all their own. French parents to a great extent believe that babies are rational, that you should combine a little bit of strictness with a lot of freedom, and that you should listen carefully to children but not do everything they say. Their ability to move kids beyond “kid foods” is remarkable. Above all, the French think that the best parenting happens when you’re calm. What’s really neat is that, in France, you have an entire nation, in real time, trying to follow these principles. It’s a country-sized experiment.
The main reason why French parenting is relevant to us now is that it’s a kind of mirror image of what’s been happening in America. We tend to think we should teach kids cognitive skills, such as reading, as soon as possible. They focus on “soft” skills like socializing and empathy in the early years. We want kids to be stimulated a lot; they think downtime is just as crucial. We often hesitate to frustrate a child; they think a child who can’t cope with frustration will grow up miserable. We’re focused on the outcomes of parenting; they think the quality of the eighteen years or so you spend living together counts for a lot, too. We tend to think long-term interrupted sleep, routine tantrums, picky eating, and constant interruptions are mostly inevitable when you have little kids. They believe these things are—please imagine me saying this in a French accent—impossible.
Since I’m a journalist, what really sold me on the French principles was the data. Many things that French parents do by intuition, tradition, or trial and error are exactly what the latest research recommends. The French take for granted that you can teach little babies how to sleep through the night; that patience can be learned; that too much praise can be counterproductive; that you should become attuned to a baby’s rhythms; that toddlers don’t need flash cards; that tasting foods makes you like those foods—all things that science is telling us, too. (To keep the keys simple, I’ve listed many of the relevant studies in the bibliography.)
Please take this book as inspiration, not doctrine. And be flexible. As French parents often tell me, “You have to keep changing what you do.” Kids change quickly. As they do, you can keep the same guiding principles, but apply them differently. I hope this book helps make that possible. Rather than giving lots of specific rules, it’s more like a toolbox to help parents figure things out on their own. As the old saying goes: Don’t give a man a filet de saumon à la vapeur. Just teach him how to fish.
And don’t worry about socialism. American parenting is evolving, as it always does. But whatever our next phase is, it won’t be French (or Chinese or Icelandic). It’ll be our own home brew. I’m happy to toss in some ideas. My mother, at least, thinks I’m on to something.
Chapter 1
a croissant in the oven
All pregnant women worry. You’re making a human being, after all. Some of us can barely make dinner. But in America, worrying can become an Olympic sport. We feel we must weigh whether each bite of food we eat is in the baby’s best interest. All this angst doesn’t feel pleasant. But often, it does feel necessary. We’re signaling that there’s nothing we won’t sacrifice for our unborn child.
The French don’t valorize a pregnant woman’s anxiety. Instead, in the word cloud of French pregnancy, terms like serenity, balance, and Zen keep popping up. Mothers-to-be are supposed to signal their competence by showing how calm they are and by making it clear that they still experience pleasure. This small shift in emphasis makes a big difference.
1. Pregnancy Is Not an Independent Research Project
French mothers-to-be might read a baby book or two. But they don’t consider this required reading or feel that they must pick a parenting philosophy. There is an important difference between being prepared and being the person who recites the names of chromosomal disorders at dinner.
Making a baby is more mysterious and meaningful than anything you’ve ever done. You can dwell in the enormity of that without trying to micromanage it, and without anointing a personal guru. The most important voice to have inside your head is your own.
2. Calm Is Better for the Baby
If you’re not persuaded to be calm for your own sake, do it for your unborn child. French pregnancy magazines say that the fetus senses his mother’s moods. He’s jolted by too much stress and soothed when pleasure hormones cross the placenta. Experts urge pregnant women to reduce worry by discussing their concerns with a doctor or therapist and by pampering themselves with pedicures, romantic nights out (preferably with the baby’s father), and lunch with friends. In the French telling, the resulting zen maman pops out a zen bébé, and a calm pregnancy sets the tone for calm parenting.
3. Don’t Panic About Sushi
France’s future mamans try to keep the risks in perspective. They know that some things—like cigarettes and alcohol—are categorically hazardous to the unborn child. French doctors now advise going cold turkey on both (though some women still have the occasional coupe de champagne). But other things are dangerous only if they happen to be contaminated. Sushi, salami, uncooked shellfish, and unpasteurized cheese are in this category.
Please don’t rush out and eat oysters (or any of the above). Listen to your doctor. But remember that accidentally eating unpasteurized Parmesan cheese with your pasta is not grounds for a nervous breakdown.
4. The Fetus Doesn’t Need Cheesecake
Pregnancy isn’t the culinary free-for-all you’ve been saving up for through all those food-deprived years of courtship and marriage. French guides say that when your body shouts for brioche, you should distract it by eating an apple or a piece of cheese. Women’s long-term strategy is to enjoy the occasional bowl of mousse au chocolat, instead of banishing it entirely. This quells the beast and makes them less likely to go overboard on such foods later. This way of eating—moderation instead of deprivation—could explain why a recent French pregnancy book was called Emergency: She Wants Strawberries.
5. Eat for One (and a Bit)
Plan to emerge from pregnancy with your allure intact. Take your doctor’s weight-gain limits seriously. (The French limits are lower than American ones, and Frenchwomen treat them like holy edicts.) Remember that it will be much easier to lose the baby weight if you haven’t gained too much while pregnant. One French guide says that a moderately active pregnant woman needs an additional two hundred to five hundred calories per day, but warns that anything more “inevitably turns into fat.” This needn’t feel austere. Crucially, Frenchwomen don’t eat merely to nourish the fetus. They also believe that they’re entitled to enjoy themselves.
6. Don’t Borrow Your Husband’s Shirts
Dressing like a shapeless blob is bad for morale (yours and your mate’s; possibly even the baby’s). Invest strategically in a few flattering maternity clothes. Then convert cardigans and leggings from your closet into pregnancy gear and brighten your face with lipstick and colored scarves. Attention to these details signals that you are not graduating from “femme” to “maman.” You’ll be both.
7. Stay Sexual
French pregnancy magazines don
’t just mention that it’s okay to have sex. They spell out exactly how to do it—including lists of pregnancy-safe sex toys (nothing with batteries), aphrodisiacs (mustard, cinnamon, and chocolate), and detailed instructions on how to maneuver yourself into third-trimester positions. Accompanying fashion spreads show pregnant women in lacy maternity lingerie with come-hither looks. Some of this is aspirational. Pregnant Frenchwomen don’t morph into sex goddesses; they have the same fluctuating libidos as the rest of us. But they don’t assume that they’ve crossed into a realm where even the appearance of intimacy is optional. They know that if you put your seductive powers in the deep freeze, it’s harder to thaw them out later.
8. Epidurals Aren’t Evil
The French don’t view childbirth as a heroic journey in pain tolerance, or early proof of the trials a mother is willing to undergo for her child. Frenchwomen don’t typically launch their babies into the world amid a frenzy of micromanagement in which they specify the lighting, the guest list, and who gets to “catch” the baby when it comes out.
There are midwives, prenatal baby whisperers, and even some home births in France. The French don’t think there’s anything wrong with giving birth the way you want to. But they maintain that the point is to get the baby safely from your uterus into your arms. While some things may be better au naturel (breasts and maple syrup come to mind), others are better with a giant dose of drugs. Even Frenchwomen who subsist on organic food and plan to breastfeed well into preschool are delighted when the anesthesiologist arrives.
9. Don’t Stand on the Business End
Dads: Unless you are actually delivering the baby, don’t stand at the “end of the tunnel.” Yes, there’s the miracle of life to witness. Of course you want to seem welcoming to your child. But consider meeting him half a second later, in order to preserve your partner’s feminine mystique. It gets messy down there. As the French saying goes: Not all truths should be told.
Chapter 2
bébé einstein
The French believe that babies aren’t helpless blobs. They treat even newborns like tiny, rational people who understand language and can learn things (when they’re taught gently and at their own pace). This isn’t as far-fetched as it sounds. American scientists have proved that babies aren’t blank slates; they can make moral judgments and do basic math. Who knows what baby superpowers they’ll discover next? We should at least remember that when we talk, they might be listening.
10. Give Your Baby a House Tour
Like anyone entering her new home for the first time, your baby wants to get oriented and know where she’ll be sleeping. When you bring her back from the hospital, show her around. This is it: home base! Later, make a practice of saying good-bye to her when you’re going out and telling her when you’ll be back. Help her make sense of the world by telling her Grandma is Daddy’s (or Mommy’s) mother, and what that new sound is outside. The French believe that when they speak to a baby, they’re not just reassuring her with the sound of a parent’s voice; they’re conveying important information. They think that explaining things to an upset baby can calm her down.
11. Observe Your Baby
When you ask a new French mom to explain her parenting philosophy, she’ll often shrug and say: “I just observe my baby.” She means that she literally spends a lot of time watching what the baby does. This is more important—and less obvious—than it sounds. The mother is trying to tune in to the baby’s experience, and learn to read and follow her cues. (American scientists call this sensitivity and say it’s one of the most important qualities in a caregiver.) The idea is that you want to be there when the baby needs you. But when she’s happily singing and drooling on the play mat, try to just let her be. You are striving to achieve what the French call complicité—mutual trust and understanding, even with someone who regularly spits up on you.
12. Tell Your Baby the Truth
France’s most famous parenting expert, Françoise Dolto, said that children don’t need family life to be perfect. But they do need it to be coherent, and not secret. She insisted that babies can sense when there’s a problem in the home and need the same comforting confirmation we all do: “You’re not nuts! Something really is wrong!” Dolto said that from six months old, parents should tell the baby if they’re getting divorced. When a grandparent dies, parents should gently explain this and briefly bring the child to the funeral. An adoptee needs to hear about her birth mother, even if her adoptive mother simply says: “I don’t know her, but you knew her.” The French believe that from the time a child is small, parents can make situations easier to accept just by making them clear.
13. Be Polite
French parents tend not to speak down to their infants in singsongy baby talk. However they do pay them the courtesy of saying hello, “please,” and “thank you.” If the baby understands you, it’s never too early to start modeling good manners. And this early politesse sets the tone for calm and respectful relations later.
14. Don’t Stimulate Her All the Time
Of course you should talk to your baby, show her things, and read her books. But a baby, like anyone else, needs downtime. She doesn’t want to be constantly watched and spoken to. She needs time to assimilate all the new information she’s been taking in. (Her parents need it, too.) Let interactions and conversations follow a natural rhythm. Give the baby time to roll around in a safe space and be free.
15. Nudge Her onto a Schedule
For the first few months, French parents usually feed babies on demand. After that, they take a few things for granted:
•The baby should eat at more or less the same times each day.
•A few big feeds are better than lots of small ones.
•The baby should adjust to the family’s regular eating rhythm.
With these ideas in mind, you can gradually stretch out the amount of time between feedings. Distract the baby from pangs of hunger by taking her for a walk or strapping her into a carrier. At the beginning, you might gain only a few minutes a day. But she’ll get used to waiting a bit. Eventually she’ll get to three hours between feeds, and before long to four. Soon she’ll be on more or less the same eating rhythm she’ll be on for the rest of her life: breakfast, lunch, and dinner, plus an afternoon snack. (This roughly corresponds to 8:00 A.M., noon, 4:00 P.M., and 8:00 P.M., but the schedule isn’t observed with military precision.)
16. Baby Formula Isn’t Poison
French mothers know that breast is best. But they don’t view breastfeeding as a measure of the mom, or keep nursing through Dantesque trials of pain and inconvenience. Many pragmatically point out that they themselves are healthy, despite having drunk a lot of powdered formula—the old, worse formula (there are other factors, but still). Some guilt is encroaching in France. But Frenchwomen still tend to think it’s unhealthy and unpleasant to breastfeed under moral duress. They believe that whether and how long to nurse should be your private decision, not your play group’s. The best reason to breastfeed, they say, is if you and your baby enjoy it.
17. Make Vegetables a Child’s First Food
If your baby’s first food is bland rice cereal, she’ll probably take to it. But why not start with something more exciting? From about six months, French parents feed babies flavor-packed pureed spinach, carrots, seeded zucchini, and other vegetables. They soon move on to fruits, small amounts of meat, and different types of fish. They’re trying to launch their children on a lifelong relationship with these flavors and introduce them to the pleasures of eating.
Chapter 3
rock-a-bye bébé
Here’s a French paradox: French babies often sleep through the night by three or four months old, or even sooner. Yet their parents don’t make them “cry it out” for hours on end.
This isn’t a coincidence, a mystery, or the result of adding Cognac to their milk. If you believe that little babies can learn things, then you can teach them things. And one of th
e things you can teach them, early on, is how to sleep.
18. Understand the Science of Sleep
Your baby is unique and adorable and will one day be accepted to a high school of performing arts. There will undoubtedly be a biopic about his life, in which an aging Gwyneth Paltrow plays you, his elderly but still ravishing mother. However, as French parents know, even your own baby is subject to the laws of science. And one of these laws is that all healthy babies, even yours, sleep in brief cycles. At the end of each cycle, babies often wake up and cry a bit.
The key to sleeping for longer stretches is for the baby to learn how to connect his sleep cycles on his own. He needs to be able to wake up after one cycle, then plunge into the next one without anyone else having to get out of bed. Grown-ups—except for the insomniacs and menopausal among us—manage this same feat every night.
Connecting sleep cycles is a skill. A few lucky babies are born with it. Most have to practice before they master it.
Bringing Up Bébé Page 29
