Can You Hear Us, Yet?

We have lived in this apartment now for 2 months.  The newness of the place has worn off for the boys, in particular, and they are living their lives in their own inimitable styles again.  Make that their own, inimitable, VERY LOUD styles. 

My children are like their parents.  Yes, I know, the apple rarely falls far from the tree, but in this particular dimension it is especially true.  I have never been one to shy away from expressing myself.  I am not good at holding my tongue, I always want to explore the depths of why I might be feeling a particular way, and if I am upset, it is pretty obvious to those around me.  And yes, I even yell.  I try to keep it within limits, but I have always, since childhood, found that, if not being heard, I will raise my voice.  As a parent this is something I struggle with constantly.  I know that children use their parents as their primary examples for behaviour, especially younger children.  I find that when I am more able to use a quiet, understanding tone of voice for an extended period of time, my children begin to do the same. 

My children are loud children.  They play loudly, they talk loudly, they fight loudly.  Much of the above is within acceptable limits for most people.  Happy noise is easy to hear.  But it is sadness and anger that we tend to hide away around others, and to shy away from if heard in public.  No one wants to be assaulted by the bereftedness of a pilfered toy, or the unjust anger of a snide comment.  Especially not before breakfast, or in the bedtime hours. 

I love this apartment.  It is simple, it is sparse, but it has white walls, large windows and shutters that open wide.  Sunshine and wind pour into my home, lightening up every moment.  Except when my children are fighting, or crying.  Then I am embarrassed.  And I shut the windows, because the apartment is one of many and I feel badly for the others around us. 

If this were a complex composed only of young families I would not feel so badly.  But there are a number of students, and our landlady and her husband, and her mother as well. And they are well past the age of having noisy children around the house.  Plus it just seems that there are some cultural differences as well around the acceptance of family noise.  This may exist in Canada as well, and even a bit in the States, to be sure. 

But, when Julian was just a wee little guy, I read a book called Raising Your Spirited Child that made such a strong point that the message has followed me through my every year of parenting.  And the point is this: Each and every trait that is perceived as troublesome in a young child can be seen in a different light, especially once that child has matured into adulthood.  Stubbornness can be viewed as persistence, a very good trait to have.  Laziness can be viewed as being laid-back and relaxed.  And my children?  Well, intense children can also be viewed as passionate.  I have three very passionate children.  I consider myself to be a passionate person as well.  I am thoroughly affected by the events around me.  And this is where I seem to keep getting myself into trouble. 

The children I have encountered here in France are just as playful, just as curious, just as creative as the children I have encountered anywhere else.  But they are quieter.  And the parents and adults I have observed are quite firm when they jump in to quiet down a noisy bunch.  More firm than makes me comfortable.  But I have always tried to live by the idea that there are as many ways to parent as there are parents in this world.  And it is not my place to pass judgment on how another parent chooses to raise his or her child.  Yes, if there is an abusive situation I am not going to just stand by, but within the realm of societally acceptable behaviour it is not up to me to raise anyone else’s child. However, I do not choose to verbally clamp down on my children in the moment.  I do address that which needs immediate addressing, but in my own way.

And, I guess, this is where the conflict arises.  What I deem a “normal” childhood noise may not be that way to those around me.  I can understand that disharmony is not the background noise that I prefer for my day-to-day activities.  I, too, prefer when my children get along nicely.  And quietly.  But I also feel that it is OK to express oneself, even when one is upset. 

My family has been having lots of discussions recently about ways in which we can work on the noise level for the benefit of those around us.  And one part of living in a foreign country is noticing the ways that that country changes you, subtly or not so subtly.  If my children learn the art of living in an apartment complex, that is worth its weight in gold.  Certainly worth the year abroad.  But I don’t want that to come at the expense of their self-expression. 

As one person who also dwells here mentioned to me, my children are very “open.”  They search out contact with others and want to engage and be engaged.  I see that as a good thing.  Maybe being “open” also means being open emotionally.  For what it’s worth, my children are definitely “open” in that sense.  They have no problems exploring all of the different feelings they have, in all of their varying depths.  So, one of our challenges for the rest of the year, has now become how to maintain our identity yet still integrate enough into the community around us.  How to remain the “open” people that we are, but without offending or angering those around us.  I want to be able to continue to feel the elation of the brightness of the world here in Provence, but that means being able to express the flip side of that coin as well.  And sometimes sadness is just too sudden and strong to hide in the back room of your apartment with all of the windows closed. 

We are all in the process of learning, of changing and adapting to this new world in which we live.  But we are each still our own inimitable selves, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.