Warsaw Mommy Blog

It seems that I have never done things the easy way – in fact, the more difficult something is even in its simplest form, the greater the likelihood that I will take it on and then complicate it to all hell. Some people call this kind of personal trait ‘the Path to Enlightenment”, others call it ‘Hard Life Lessons’, still others call it ‘Character Building’ or ‘Self-Knowledge’. On good days I also call it those things (“Wow, that was hard, but I feel that I really learned something about myself, and I think I almost saw the face of God/Buddha/Insert deity of your own choice, I am not here to judge”); on bad days I call it ‘Insanity, and ‘Why the Hell Can’t I Just Do Things The Easy Way, For Once?’

So. Motherhood. Hard, huh? I mean, rewarding and amazing and miraculous and it’s really quite lovely to have chubby arms around my neck and I adore drooly gummy baby grins. But it’s hard, huh? And when I decided to be a mother, did I get pregnant and give birth in Canada, the country of my birth? You know, that place where I understand the culture and can talk to doctors, and where my family resides (free babysitting, courtesy of Grandma!), and where I speak the language fluently so I can defend myself when some busybody on public transport questions my motherhood skills and values. That place.

Nope. I decided to crash into the world of motherhood in Poland. In Warsaw, Poland, to be exact. Where I wander the streets understanding about 70% of what is being said, where I communicate in Polish at about a 1st-grade level and where I am constantly – constantly! – surprised by the cultural expectations and norms when it comes to kids. And since I miss about 30% of what is going on around me, and I can’t ask questions about this 30%, I am constantly stumbling into some kid-related misunderstanding or offending some long-held and -cherished belief about children that everyone around me just takes for granted. Sure, I plead ignorance and I think I get away with it thanks to my foreignness, but there are days when I wonder just who in their right mind would choose to raise a child in a culture and language that is not their own. For part of the answer, go back to the first paragraph…

And so I got to thinking about how different my entire motherhood experience would have been and would be if I were in Canada, instead of where I am. Would it be better? It would be easier in so many ways, no doubt about that. But better? Hmmmm. And that’s what this blog is about: sharing the mommyhood challenges that I face here, things that I’d never in a million years come across back in Canada. But it’s also about my boys – my sweet amazing sons, who would be sweet and amazing in any country and in any language – and how they cope with a Canadian mother and a Polish father. How they are growing up in a mixed language and cultural household, and how they are different from their friends and Polish family. How we are juggling various values and holidays and important events and cultural and societal norms… and how their Polish life is always, always touched and affected and shaded by my ‘Canadian-ness’.

And I know I’m not alone in my parental confusion and moments of alienation and deep frustration; all parents experience these feelings, but for those of us parenting in foreign countries, we really have our asses handed to us sometimes. And there are tens of thousands of us parents out there, raising our kids in cultures that are not our own, and which may not be our partners’ or kids’ culture either. This is also a place for you, to share situations you’ve come across, which may have been so damned frustrating at the time, but which may be hilarious (or perhaps mildly amusing) now.

I often get asked how I can possibly handle bringing up kids in Poland, and my answer is always the same: “Luck and laughter.”

Oh, and love. Don’t forget that stuff.