We've always been a close family, but our first year here was not easy, and the shared experience of struggling together in a strange and unknown environment has undoubtably been a bonding experience. In addition, I believe we've come to respect and appreciate each other in new ways.
We moved here just before my daughter's tenth birthday. She had her four closest friends over for a slumber party to celebrate her birthday and say farewell. She gracefully dealt with our selling her bed, her bike, her skis. That was painful even for me. She accepted the move with great maturity, but she made her wishes clearly known, "Just two years." The night we arrived in Europe, she suddenly broke into inconsolable tears. "I want to go home! I never even wanted to come here." I understood that she was probably a little scared, and it hadn't been her decision, yet she had to go along with it. Mark and I, on the other hand, were fully bought in, eager for the challenge. We were dead sure that all our lives would be enriched by this experience in the long run.
Her birthday happened to fall on the first weekend after she started school in a new country, in a new language. Since two days was not quite enough time to make friends, we celebrated just the four of us by spending the day at an amusement park and eating the best vegan cake EVER. It was fantastic. It was exciting, and it still seemed like we were on vacation. Although she has had her occasional bouts of mild homesickness, when we had been here about 6 months and Z spontaneously said she was "glad to have come here" I just about fell out of my chair in happiness.
We chose not to live in an expat area, and the kids are at a local school. At the time we knew only one couple in the entire city. We were an island of Americanism in a sea of Catalan/Spanish people. All we had was each other. We became Team Wong-VanHaren. Because we had each other, we were never really lonely, but we did have to work together.
In the US, I was in charge at home. Stay-at-home overachiever parent, teaching background, control freak tiger mom. I taught the kids everything from gardening to crafts to dancing to music to Mandarin to English. I helped out at school. I took them to China and Taiwan by myself for weeks at a time. Admittedly, Zoe spoke better Spanish than me, but I definitely knew more Spanish than Trevor when we arrived. I was powerful and capable! I was MOM, the center of the kids' universe. But I sometimes wondered whether I was getting to be a bit of a helicopter parent.
But once we came here, the tables were turned. I still need help understanding things, and knowing how to say things. Within two months the kids were fluent in Spanish and understood Catalan, while I was still struggling to put sentences together. They correct me all the time. I can't help them much with their schoolwork. The school doesn't allow parent volunteers. They are gone from 9am to 5pm in their own world, and they are succeeding, all by themselves. I think it's been wonderfully empowering for them, and they are very proud of themselves. I have been forced to step back a bit, and instead of being critical of them, as I often was in the US, here I am in awe of how they have adapted to the new environment without complaint, and how they are kicking my butt in the language department. I think it's great for them to see me working hard to learn something new in my old age.
I know that as kids get older they need more control over their own lives, and I had seen hints of rebellion in Zoe before we left California. We had been through various phases, sometimes getting along famously, other times driving each other crazy. A friend of mine, who I consider The Most Fun Mother Ever, had a sweet, obedient, high-achieving daughter enter middle school and suddenly didn't want to have anything to do with her mother. I couldn't believe it! I was not ready for that. So far we have been very lucky. Things could change at any moment, but for the time being Zoe and I are closer than ever. She reaches out to hold my hand while we walk down the street. We are in a happy place. She is blooming and growing and I am watching with wonder and pride. Is it related to our coming here? We'll never really know, but I do think it has made some difference. Although she has made really good friends here, has my English-speaking self become some kind of proxy for the home she loves and misses? Have we found a better balance here where I am less all-knowing? I still nag them about cleaning their room and practicing their instruments just as always.
The Disney channel does exist here (dubbed into Spanish), and I ask the kids not to watch it because I can't stand the way the kids talk in that sassy, overdramatic, spoiled brat manner that just seems so very American. I'm not saying I think the Spanish are perfect parents. Personally I think the children are chronically under-rested due to their odd habit of eating dinner at 10pm. But that aside, Mark and I both feel that kids here in Spain seem to have a closer, more harmonious relationship with their parents than kids in the US. The twelve-year-old boys in Zoe's class still kiss their mothers hello and goodbye without shame. Their classmates look me in the eye and greet me when passing, without any prompting. I just don't see any sullen teenagers rolling their eyes at their parents. The teens we've met seem happy to make small talk with their parent's friends. I desperately want to know what is the reason for this fantastic child socialization! One reason may be that just about all kids go to all day daycare starting at 2 years of age. So perhaps they just have a lot of experience interacting positively with various adults. Another theory I have is that the Spanish tend to stay very close to family and home, not going away for university, not moving for job opportunities. They visit with grandparents EVERY SUNDAY. Every weekend there is an obligation to attend the birthday party or wedding of an aunt, uncle, or cousin. I think this tight family web of support may be one reason why you just don't see crazed gunmen and serial killers here.
Scary facts slightly off the subject but interesting: The last mass shooting that occurred in Spain was over 20 years ago. And the one before that was in 1926. The number of convicted serial killers in Spain: 7. In the US: over 200! What?! The US may have 7.5 times the population of Spain, but we have 28 times more serial killers. Maybe we ought to stay here after all...
How has the move affected our son? Well, Mark has had a lot more time to spend with the kids in the last year, and he and T have developed a kinship around watching and playing soccer. They also like to go biking together, or to the science museum, or the beach, just the two of them. T doesn't prefer to hold my hand anymore, and makes a face when I kiss him. I think he's identifying more with his dad these days, and that is great. But I admit, I miss my little one.
Mark and my relationship has been greatly changed here as well. I have always been very capable and independent. In the US I often felt as though my world and Mark's world were quite disparate, and growing more so each day. I could not help him with his programming, and I knew little about startups in the Silicon Valley. He couldn't cook to save his life and couldn't have cared less about the garden, and he was more than happy to leave the children's education in my hands. We didn't really need each other, since we were both self sufficient in our separate spheres. Moving here meant he had to get more involved in the kid's education, since I couldn't even understand the letters sent home from the school. He had to deal with logistics such as renting an apartment, going to the kid's school conferences, to doctor's appointments, etc. Because my Spanish is not very good yet, I rely on him in ways I never did before, but hopefully not so much that it has become a burden to him.
After 10 years of listening to him speak Spanish to the kids at home, I hadn't realized how much vocabulary I had gained. When spoken slowly and clearly, in limited subject areas, I can understand quite well, although I am now learning the grammar rules so that I can produce the language correctly. I mostly enjoy being a student again, although at times it can be frustrating. Mark has been really encouraging and supportive of my efforts, and says he's proud and impressed that I have done so well here. Even though I am sometimes annoyed when he corrects my pronunciation, I do appreciate his knowledge and expertise, and I am very proud of him as well. I would be SO embarrassed to have a husband who spoke Spanish with that horrible American accent. I think we both respect and admire each other, and are seeing each other with new eyes here. For a couple who has been married for 13 years, that is a good thing.
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