Sprouts springing up!

Here is the invite!



It was fun!!! Too bad you did not make it!





Subtext:
No we do not give booze to the kids yet. The photographer had to free his hands.

Subtext 2:
A certain amount of effort was given in the cake making exercise by the maternal element of the family unit (but unfortunately the photographer missed a global shot of these oeuvres d'art).
An orange and green dinosaur was created thanks to a good old cake mold (and admittedly some cake mix). In addition, despite a couple of failed attempt at the creation of small engines and wagons (yes, cake mix are hard to do), rescued by the creative use of colored glazing and candies, a small train was prepared, and enjoyed by the small crew of invitees. Cake mix with colored (edible) sparkles created a certain type of effect ensuring no parents would consider taking a piece away from their kids.

Subtext 3:
Each of our boys had another birthday celebration in their respective school on the following Wednesday. Since then, Noam is convinced that he is now 5 years old. His teacher said so. We need to go talk to her tomorrow morning to correct this situation.

At last, school!!!

We arrived from Canada a few days after mid august, and yet school was only starting at the beginning of september. A long long long wait for little boys who are excited to start school and meet their new friends.
This year we took the decision to change Noam from a private Chinese kindergarten (5 min walk from our place) to the French School. Language was the main reason behind this change, wanting to provide him with an environment that would provide better support for language that is difficult to learn and master. We also figured that since both my husband and I believe English can be learned and master much more easily, and also can be learned about anywhere in the world, we would put emphasis on the other languages. Hebrew is a bit more difficult as most things related to Hebrew here are related to religion, which we are not really interested for our kids now. The "new" school is not too far from our place, in Sanlitun and Noam must ride a bus. He is now really proud to get in every morning, and wave at us from inside. He looks so small in it!
On his first day at school, he met his new friends (22 of them), and took note of his new surrounding. A big change from Eton school: there are about 400 students in the Maternelle campus this year, and everyone meets outside to play during breaks. Then the meals are taken at La Cantine, which is cute with its round yellow arches. But it also quite busy every lunchtime, with so many kids.
We met his teachers yesterday, and they both confirmed that Noam is doing great, integrating well and making new friends easily. Indeed Noam has two teachers, as he is in a special bilingual French/Chinese class. So in one given day, Noam is speaking French with Marie, and the next, he speaks Chinese with Hei Laoshi. It is really exciting, even our ayi noted that Noam has gained in vocabulary in the course of two weeks! This a group that was created three years ago by two teachers that are found of language integration, and of the chinese culture. We are fortunate that we have such passionate teachers for him.
 





Emmanuel, on his side, is integrating Noam's old kindergarten Eton School for a few hours every morning. Since his birth, he has seen his big brother emerge from this school every afternoon, so when we went to accompany him for his first day, he knew what was there for him, and was really happy to go in. He was eager to explore his classroom, and to discover all sorts of new "toys". But he is not yet used to say goodbye when we drop him off. Yet when ayi fetches him at lunch time, he wants to stay longer to play!


Here Emmanuel's his first day, getting his dad to tell a story.

Flying home

Many times I have had the feeling of being perceived as a "hero" when I mention that I fly alone with my two kids. In fact, I am afraid that if I brag about how easy our return from Canada was, the next flight will be simply ho-ri-ble... So I will not mention the fact that they slept almost at take off and that we did not spill anything on each other. Considering that we did not have a window in our "window-seat", and that we sat 3 on 2 seats, it is not so bad...

The real challenge for me remains the jet-lag. Alone I can beat it more easily, trying to adjust my sleep in the plane depending on my arrival hour (if arriving in the day, sleeping in the plane, if arriving in the night, awake in the flight). It already has some limitation (what if you take more than 24 hours to get there, or if you have problematic fellow passengers). Usually, when I am flying with the kids, I can't sleep. (And probably my direct neigborgs too.) Mama bear reflex or simple discomfort, not sure. But it makes my own recovery from it all much more painful since, upon arrival, everyone else wakes up again and again at odd hours for a few days in a row (I need to sleep, even if not much!) At times (and specially this last time), it brought me back to when I was breastfeeding Emmanuel right after his birth, when he had jaundice. Or it also reminds of when I was in architecture school. Yes, it was that intense.
But I have to admit that apart from these jet lagged happy hours in the middle of the night upon landing, the boys are pretty good travelers. They have a passport to prove it, of course. But beyond that, they are excited by the idea of taking a plane, they love plane-spotting in the airport, and they also love the airplane food - well, I should say, they are excited at getting the meal tray (at least, even if most of the food stays on it).
Beyond that, when I look at it more globally, they seem to inherently accept differences.  And from Tel Aviv to Quebec to Beijing, there are extreme differences in the way people look, dress and talk. I am still wondering how this whole experience of "world citizenship" will shape them, how they will define their own identity. We will keep working at opening their eyes on the world at large, and hopefully they will be able to shape their lives at a similar scale.

Mommy, Noam, He is What?

Last week, I just picked up the boys' Israeli passports. These are their fourth ones. No, I do not mean their fourth Israeli passports. No, these are their fourth passport, after their American, their Canadian, and their Polish ones. A real bunch of globetrotters. And it makes me look like a poor mother, with only one passport!

This is a picture I took of family's passports... We are a family of four, for those who do not know us.

For those unfamiliar with the passport business, nope, you can't buy these online (or else we would not have so many people lining up our embassies). As they were born in the States, the kids automatically got the citizenship, and now for most travels, they have been using this passport. Since Pauli and I are respectively Israeli and Canadian citizens, the kids also qualify for those two nationalities. Of course with different countries, different rules, so even if they would have been born here in Beijing, they could never be Chinese, and even if one of us two parents would be Chinese, they would eventually have to make a decision between one and another, as China does not allow dual citizenship. The Polish one? Well, Pauli's parents are of Polish origin, and since Pauli also has this citizenship, the kids automatically qualify for it. The only drawback to all of these is the amount of paperwork. But as you see, it is possible.
Now, time will tell what use they will be able to make out of them. Already last week, when I applied for Russian visas (we are traveling via Moscow to Israel next week), I realized that Polish passports were better, granting for cheaper visas (50$ instead of 150$ or so!). And only later I will come to realize that for this specific destination, Israeli passports are best (free)... 

So indeed our kids are globe-trotters. They already have logged many visas, many long flights, and many immigration officers. But are they only that? Defacto, they are citizen of the world. Later, when one will ask them where are they from, they might have trouble answering... Today, Noam says he is Canadian (proud mommy) but is he really? I was just reading about similar questioning in a blog...

Kids born from parents of different cultures already have a faire bit to process. If they live in one of the parents' birth country, the answer might become easier with time, as they immersed completely in that primary culture. However, when these mixed couples raise their kids in a (third) different culture, then things becomes more tricky. Are our kids Israeli or French-Canadian, or simply American? Are they Jewish or Christian? Can they be all of that together?

Take Emmanuel. Born in the US, he spent most of the 20 months of his long life in China. One month last summer in Canada, one month at birth in the US, 3 weeks in Israel last year and 2 more soon. So he is maybe more Chinese than others. But is he? We obviously do not eat dumplings daily and do not do like the Chinese in most of what we do. But he needs his daily rice! We do not dress Chinese, we do not cook Chinese, we do not spit in public, we do not even speak good Chinese... Well, I might drive now like a Chinese, but I don't think it applies.
In fact, outside of our respective cultures, I came to realize we need to find (and create) references and markers to maintain some of our own cultural identities, and to create our own unique family identity. So, to the despair of my dear husband who finds religion cumbersome, I try to ensure the kids get a bit of a Jewish culture at specific holiday times. But yet I also celebrate our usual Christian holidays, and try to also include some of our traditions. The tricky part for a parent is to know what is important, and how to carry that cultural baggage without too much effort. So it appears it is easier to make a Christmas tree than to make a Seder dinner... We still have to work on that.

One of the main determinant of a culture is its language. So here in Beijing, we try to maintain the Hebrew and the French language. We do it because both are important for me and my husband, respectively, in how we define ourselves. But also because we feel that it can be a strong baggage for our kids' future. So to avoid confusions, I address the kids in French, and Pauli in Hebrew. It has been great for me, now my Hebrew is at the level of a 3 and half year old. Then me and Pauli converse mostly in English. So the kids get exposed to the English language in that way, but also in kindergarten, where Noam has now extensive conversations in English with his little friends. And then of course, by being in China and having a Chinese nanny, we all speak a bit of Chinese, sort of. The kids are really good at it. What is really amazing is that amongst all this mix of languages, the kids seem to make sense of it. When Noam was about a year and half, he could already ask for water in French, in Chinese and in Hebrew, knowing whom to ask in which language.

We have this book at home. It is 42 pages of Hellos, in 42 languages. The book is filled with cute little drawings of kids faces, and not other text than the various forms of greetings. When I first read it first to Noam he asked me right away: "Mommy, Noam, he is what?" I pointed at the little girl with the frizzy hair that says "Shalom", the one with straight brown hair that says "Bonjour", the little boy with a cap that says "Hello" and the little almond-eyed girl that says "Nihao" and told him that he is lucky because he is all of those all together, and that makes him quite special. I am not sure he understood well what it meant but in any cases, he looked happy to be 4 different little guys at one.   

Boys

NO! I am not jealous! I am really happy to have a little brother. I love giving kisses to my new little brother. When I wake up I worry about where he might be. When he is lying down on his bed I want to lie down with him. When he is eating I want to cuddle with mommy too. When he is in the stroller I like to pat his belly and even tried to climb in with him (and fell down as the stroller tipped over). No I am not jealous! But I really would like more time with mommy, specially when he starts crying. I also need my diaper changed, or I need to go potty, often when baby needs to be changed.

I am a big boy now! I help mommy cook. I can water the plants. I am able to put my coat on by myself! I am so proud.

I am a big boy now! I am able to climb into my bed by myself. I don't need a nap most days, now. I want to stay up later to play with mommy and abba, and I wake up earlier to get a maximum amount of time with them.

I am a big boy now! I go to school every day, and I have many friends there. I love to go to school but sometimes I would like mommy to come and play with me there. And I hate when my abba goes traveling for several days in a row.

I am a big boy now. I try hard, but walking far is hard. Waiting for a meal is hard. I am a big boy now and I can say what I want and what I don't want. But at times, I am not always sure to know what I want, it is really hard to have to make choices. But I am sure I want TV, my stuffed Elmo, my doudou, my trains... I don't always know what to do but it is easier to collapse in tears on the floor and wait for mommy or daddy to help. It seams to work so far.

Yeah, I am now big enough to get in bed by myself, and soon to get out of there also. I am really looking forward. I will then be a really big boy and party all night!

Artists at heart

For Children's day, on Monday, Noam school was off. Me and my good friend Jodi planned to do something fun and different. 

After a memorable taxi ride, where Kai and Noam tried their voices signing accapella, while I tried my Chinese to orient the driver to some remote studio, we arrived in what appeared to be an island of tranquility and creativity. A large compound of artist studios surrounds an open courtyard, where in a corner a wine covered pergola shades a set of garden chairs and tables, and where good coffee is served. 

Karen, a fellow Canadian, and Dawu, a sweet Chinese artist, share their creative passion with kids, with their project called Beijing Color Studio.  Dawu takes on the role of creative director and help the little ones unleash their art onto a canvas, while Karen takes care of the logistics.

Kai and Noam were the first arrived. Dawu and Karen later that day hosted more than 20 other kids. Easels were set, white canevas were awaiting the budding artists. As Dawu spread some color on the canevas, Kai quickly picked up at it, spreading it and enjoying the feeling of the paint on his hands. As he softly explored the texture of the paint, the colour covered the white square, leading to a very interesting effect. 

Noam at the opposite, did not quite get into it right away. As paint touched his fingers, he started panicking, and repeatidly saying "mains" (hands in French), is own way to ask for me to clean his hands. We tried various tricks, brushes, splashes, and funny faces, but we did not really succeeded in getting him to enjoy the act of spreading color onto the canevas. Then at one unexpected moment, he started to use a big brush on the raised canevas, and for fifteen minutes, we saw the artist at work. 

A Big Day for a Big Boy

After much deliberation we decided to register Noam to Eaton's School, a kindergarten next to our place, in Central Park. 

As we were trying to decide where to send him, the language was an issue for us.  We felt that Noam had enough of 3 languages in his little brain, as he is raised by a French Canadian mom (oui oui, c'est moi!) and an Israeli dad (speaking Hebrew), with the support of our beloved Lili Ayi (who obviously speaks Chinese). We also figured that English can be learned much more easily, and it is available (almost) everywhere, while Chinese, French or Hebrew are languages requiring much more efforts to master, while also being geographically bound. 

We explored the idea of sending him to public Chinese kindergarten, but were deterred by the rigidity of their approach. Private Chinese schools seemed to focus a great deal on the English language to the detriment of Chinese, as the affluent Beijingers want their kids to be bilingual. The French School could only take him at 3 years old. The Canadian School is too far. The Hebrew/Jewish school is way way too far in the suburb, and integrating a bit too much religious aspects to its program for our taste.  

So we had accept the fact that English would be part of Noam's early education, while still preferring schools with Chinese-English bilingual programs. And in the end, not only the convenience of Eaton's became a great factor in our selection, but also the number of Noam's friends registered there too. 

So today was the big day: Noam's first day in school. We filled the little back pack with change clothes, diapers, slippers and a bottle of water, and off we went. Arrived in the class, Noam met Felicia and her team of teachers (15 kids for 3 teachers). As we already went to a Montessori class before, Noam felt at ease and navigated pretty quickly among the tables and children, exploring the various developmental toys and meeting his new friends, and some of his playmates. Of course the good byes were hard for both of us, but Felicia later reassured me that he did not cry for too long after my departure. 

When I came back to pick him up, he was so busy playing with the others that he did not notice me at first, and when he did, he continued playing for little more before running to me. It made me feel good, knowing that he is feeling safe and comfortable there. And the best comment was when one of the teacher told me: "He is a cool kid"! What a nice compliment! 

Cool, Noam!!! ;-)