Pamela Druckerman Quotes

But in real life, the ideal Parisian woman is calm, discreet, a bit remote, and extremely decisive.

People's youthful quirks can harden into adult pathologies. What's adorable at 20 can be worrisome at 30 and dangerous at 40.

French parents do offer a few sleep tips. They almost all say that in the early months, they kept their babies with them in the light during the day, even for naps, and put them to bed in the dark at night. And almost all say that, from birth, they carefully "observed" their babies, and then followed the babies' own "rhythms." French parents talk so much about rhythm, you'd think they were starting rock bands, not raising kids. "From zero to six months, the best is to respect the rhythms of their sleep," explains Alexandra, the mother whose babies slept through the night practically from birth.

To be a different kind of parent, you don't just need a different parenting philosophy. You need a very different view of what a child actually is.

At dinner parties other women's husbands and boyfriends hold my gaze a bit longer than all but the most lecherous American men would dare. I never find out whether these approaches might lead to something more, but they don't have to. Flirting with someone else's partner isn't a betrayal of your spouse or a gateway to extramarital sex. It's a harmless way to have fun.

There are so few years to just be a child.

Within a few hours of meeting him, I realized that "love at first sight" just means feeling immediately and extremely calm with someone.

It quickly becomes clear that having a child in France doesn't require choosing a parenting philsophy.

I don't want to be Jewish, I want to be British," she announces in early December.

By your 40s, you don't want to be with the cool people; you want to be with your people.

Autonomy is something fundamental that your child needs. (Francoise Dolto said that by age six, a child should be able to do everything at home that concerns him.)

I realize that i've seen French mothers and nannies pausing exactly this little bit before tending to their babies during the day. It hadn't occurred to me that this was deliberate or that it was at all significant.

My first intervention is to say, when your baby is born, just don't jump on your kid at night," Cohen says, "Give your baby a chance to self-soothe, don't automatically respond, even from birth.

Like the French, he starts babies off on vegetables and fruits rather than bland cereals. He's not obsessed with allergies. He talks about "rhythm" and teaching kids to handle frustration. He values calm. And he gives real weight to the parents' own quality of life, not just to the child's welfare.

Babies are designed to cry when they need something and mothers are designed to respond.

Part of me just wants to force-feed these women some spoonfuls of fatty pâté. But another part of me is dying to know their secrets. Having kids who sleep well, wait and don't whine surely helps them stay so calm. But there's got to be more to it. Are they secretly struggling with anything? Where's their belly fat? If this is all a façade, what's behind it? Are French mothers really perfect? And if so, are they happy?

Awakening is about introducing a child to sensory experiences, including tastes. It doesn't always require the parent's active involvement. It can come from staring at the sky, smelling dinner as it's being prepared, or playing alone on a blanket. It's a way of sharpening the child's senses and preparing him to distinguish between different experiences. It's the first step toward teaching him to be a cultivated adult who knows how to enjoy himself. Awakening is a kind of training for children in how to profiter - to soak up the pleasure and richness of the moment.

The de'clic (DEH-kleek) is an aha moment when a child figures out how to do something important on his own...it's a welcome sign of maturity and autonomy.

The French believe that kids feel confident when they're able to do things for themselves, and do those things well. After children have learned to talk, adults don't praise them for saying just anything. They praise them for saying interesting things, and for speaking well.

Their fantasy men--like Yon-sama--not only wouldn't spend their days barking drink orders from the couch, they might not ever be home at all. And that's okay. For these women the pleasure of a fantasy lover comes not from having him but from pining for him.

I want my kids to be self-reliant, resilient, and happy. I just don't want to let go of their hands.

There are no soul mates. Not in the traditional sense, at least. In my 20s someone told me that each person has not one but 30 soul mates walking the earth. ("Yes," said a colleague, when I informed him of this, "and I'm trying to sleep with all of them.") In fact, "soul mate" isn't a pre-existing condition. It's an earned title. They're made over time.

The economic boom that followed World War II had made them richer than their parents. Instead of a comfortable life with a husband they'd known since high school, they craved glamour and romance. "We all learned from the movie stars," says Loretta, who married three times and now lives in Lake Worth, Florida. "New York then was like long black gloves and little hats, and you met your sweetheart in New York for a drink, kind of thing. It was like Sinatra and stuff like that. The songs had words, and you closed your eyes.

I'm hardly the first to point out that middle-class America has a parenting problem. In hundreds of books and articles this problem has been painstakingly diagnosed, critiqued, and named: overparenting, hyperparenting, helicopter parenting, and, my personal favorite, the kindergarchy.

Another phrase that adults use a lot with children is "I don't agree," as in, "I don't agree with you pitching your peas on the floor." Parents say this in a serious tone, while looking directly at the child. "I don't agree" is also more than just "no." It establishes the adult as another mind, which the child must consider. And it credits the child with having his own view about the peas, even if this view is being overruled. Pitching the peas is cast as something the child has rationally decided to do, so he can decide to do otherwise, too.

You will miss out on some near soul mates. This goes for friendships, too. There will be unforgettable people with whom you have shared an excellent evening or a few days. Now they live in Hong Kong, and you will never see them again. That's just how life is.

There are no grown-ups ... Everyone is winging it, some just do it more confidently.

Hanukah is over, we're not Jewish anymore," she tells me.

In all this talk about giving birth, I never hear anyone mention that the last time the World Health Organization ranked national health-care systems, France's was first, while America's was thirty-seventh. Instead, we Anglos focus on how the French system is overmedicalized and hostile to the "natural." Pregnant Message members fret that French doctors will induce labor, force them to have epidurals, then secretly bottle-feed their newborns so they won't be able to breast-feed.

When I ask French parents what they most want for their children, they say things like "to feel comfortable in their own skin" and "to find their path in the world." They want their kids to develop their own tastes and opinions. In fact, French parents worry if their kids are too docile. They want them to have character.

But they believe that children can achieve these goals only if they respect boundaries and have self-control. So alongside character, there has to be cadre.

She'll thank you when she's thirty and can still fit into her high school jeans.

a minimum, the toys are put away at night. Parents see doing this as a healthy separation and a chance to clear their minds when the kids go to bed. Samia, my neighbor who during the day is the extremely doting mother of a two-year-old, tells me that when her daughter goes to bed, "I don't want to see any toys. . . . Her universe is in her room.

Just because you're 40, you don't have to decide whether God exists ... when you're already worrying that the National Security Agency is reading your emails, it's better not to know whether yet another entity is watching you.

We've hired a lovely nanny, Adelyn, from the Philippines, who shows up in the morning and looks after Bean all day.

One reason for pausing is that young babies make a lot of movement and noise while they're sleeping. This is normal and fine. If parents rush in and pick the baby up every time he makes a peep, they'll sometimes wake him up.

WARMING UP TO the crèche turned out to be easy. Warming up to the other mothers there isn't. I'm aware that Anglo-American-style instant bonding between women doesn't happen in France. I've heard that female friendships here start out slowly, and can take years to ramp up. (Though once you're finally 'in' with a French woman, you're supposedly stuck with her for life. Whereas your English-speaking insta-friends can drop you at any time.)

I might as well have declared my devotion to processed cheese.

French parents are very concerned about their kids. They know about pedophiles, allergies, and choking hazards. They take reasonable precautions. But they aren't panicked about their children's well-being. This calmer outlook makes them better at both establishing boundaries and giving their kids some autonomy.

...the main point of parental authority is to authorize children to do things, not to block them.

If you worry less about what people think of you, you can pick up an astonishing amount of information about them. You no longer leave conversations wondering what just happened. Other people's minds and motives are finally revealed.

Yet the French have managed to be involved without becoming obsessive. They assume that even good parents aren't at the constant service of their children, and that there's no need to feel guilty about this. "For me, the evenings are for the parents." one Parisian mother tells me. "My daughter can be with us if she wants, but it's adult time.

The French magazine Parents says that if a baby is scared of strangers, his mother should warn him that a visitor will be coming over soon. Then, when the doorbell rings, 'Tell him that the guest is here. Take a few seconds before opening the door . . . if he doesn't cry when he sees the stranger, don't forget to congratulate him.' I hear of several cases where, upon bringing a baby home from the maternity hospital, the parents give the baby a tour of the house.9 French parents often tell babies what they're doing to them: I'm picking you up, I'm changing your nappy, I'm going to give you a bath. This isn't just to make soothing sounds; it's to convey information. And since the baby is a person like any other, parents are often quite polite about all this. (Plus it's apparently never too early to start instilling good manners.)

[French] Parents see it as their job to bring the child around to appreciating this [food]. They believe that just as they must teach a child how to sleep, how to wait, and how to say bonjour, they must teach her how to eat.

French parents don't worry that they're going to damage their kids by frustrating them. To the contrary, they think their kids will be damaged if they can't cope with frustration. They also treat coping with frustration as a core life skill. Their kids simply have to learn it. The parents would be remiss if they didn't teach it.