For those of you in North America (who have more than likely not been following French politics) - the second (and deciding) round of the French presidential elections was held today. The run-off pitted incumbent president Nicolas Sarkozy against Socialist party candidate François Hollande. It's been interesting following the politics here, as left and right are not nearly as clear-cut as in the States. This election was fought along many lines, including but not limited to the economy, immigration, and social policies. As we couldn't vote, we were only able to observe as the French citizens cast their ballots that would determine our future here alongside theirs. Of primary interest to us was the impact that the next president would have on our lives in France: right to immigration, right to marriage, right to both legally parent our kids.
And tonight, in our own quiet apartment, with little F's head resting on my shoulder, far from the parties in Paris and around the country, we celebrated. A victory by François Hollande means, for us, the possibility of our marriage being recognized and of my parental rights being upheld. For countless gay and lesbian French couples who did not have the privilege of marrying abroad, this victory may mean the right to marry, to seek reproductive assistance, and to build their own families. Of course, time will tell - but as I sit here with my glass of cider, listening to Hollande give his victory speech, I am filled with a hope similar to what I felt on the night I watched Obama win the presidency. While I feel that in the States we still have a long way to go, I am hopeful that relatively rapid social change can take place here. In a pre-election document addressed to the LGBT wing of the Socialist party, Hollande lays out pretty straightforward answers to some questions that carry enormous weight for my family, and for other GLBT families and individuals:
(Note: these are my translations, and I have shortened the answers for clarity - the original text can be found at
http://ddata.over-blog.com/xxxyyy/0/46/85/86/questions_HES_reponses_FH_2012.pdf)
Will you open civil marriage to all couples? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you open second-parent adoption to same-sex couples? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you open assisted reproduction to all women - by anonymous donor or by known donor - without discrimination? If yes, when? "Yes, starting in 2012."
Will you align legislative and legal texts so that "gender identity" is equivalent to "sexual orientation" when it comes to discrimination or violence? If yes, when? "Yes, in 2012."
Will you end the exclusion of gays from blood donation? If yes, when? "Yes, starting in 2012, because it is a discrimination that has no scientific justification, and rests upon the confusion between 'sexual orientation' and 'sexual behavior'."
No president has been, is, or ever will be a perfect candidate. But tonight, when it comes to my family, Hollande comes pretty damn close. And tonight, pretty damn close is good enough for me.
- E
Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenthood. Show all posts
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Adventures at the U.S. Embassy
I know, I know, it's been a good two weeks since we have managed to post here. It's been a bit busy here the past two weeks. My (E's) "paternity leave" ended and it was time to head back to work, which also means it was time for L to fly solo at home with the two littles. Needless to say, it's been an adjustment. Add to this two solid weeks of rainy weather and it's been a challenge just keeping up with the house (wishful thinking). And, in all honesty, though I thought many times about posting an update, there just wasn't much to write about. Days with an infant are at the same time unpredictable and routine, and other than a couple of trips into Paris we've just been laying low.
Our biggest adventure lately was heading to the U.S. Embassy to register B's birth. Children born to Americans abroad must be registered at the Embassy in order to get a Consular Report of Birth Abroad. This allows us to apply for his passport (necessary for our upcoming trip to Canada and the U.S.) as well as his social security number. The process is pretty straightforward: after the birth, you make an appointment with the Embassy (be warned that appointments for the U.S. Embassy in Paris fill up about a month in advance!), fill out the requisite applications, and show up at the Embassy with the French birth certificate as well as proof of the parents' citizenship. If you are in a hurry to get a passport, it is worth your while to keep checking the appointment website even after making an initial appointment, because canceled appointment slots re-open often. We were able to shave a week off our initial appointment date by checking regularly - and it's a good thing we did...
We got to the Embassy about 30 minutes before our appointment with our carefully-prepared documents. L and I had both checked over everything twice to ensure that we had filled everything out properly. After waiting an hour or so at the Embassy, but before our number was called, I suddenly realized that ohmygodweforgothisbirthcertificate! Yes, really. Despite our careful checking and double checking, B's birth certificate was sitting in our apartment, an hour away from the Embassy. My heart fell into my stomach. Since our flight to Canada is in less than 4 weeks, and it takes 14 days to get the passport, and about a month to reschedule an appointment, we decided that our only option to play dumb. We headed to the counter when our number was called, handed over all of our forms, and then reenacted our panicked moment 10 minutes before, when we actually realized his birth certificate was missing. And score! The agent helping us was sympathetic, took our application materials, and told us to just mail the certificate in the next day.
Yeah! We were home free!
... or were we?
About 20 minutes later we got called back to a second window, where L was to be sworn in as the final formality. Since L is the only parent on the French birth certificate, and is therefore officially a single mother, she also needed to prove physical presence in the U.S. for at least a year prior to B's birth. Incidentally, married women do not need to provide this documentation - nevermind that we are married! Fortunately we had come armed with utility bills and tax documents that should provide the necessary documentation. We figured that was the last hurdle. The agent helping us, however, asked to swear me in as well. He then explained to us that he wanted to see if there was any way to put my name on the Consular Report of Birth Abroad as well as on B's passport application. If we ever move back to the U.S., the CRBA essentially becomes B's defacto birth certificate, so having both of our names on it would be a really, really big deal. Because we are Registered Domestic Partners in Oregon, had B been born in Oregon we both would be on his birth certificate, so being on the CRBA would essentially be the same thing. The agent told us that he wanted to seek some guidance from the head office in Washington D.C. on how to proceed with our paperwork, and to see if there was any legal reasoning that would allow my name to appear. We may need to make another appearance at the Embassy, and it means we are cutting it waaaay too close for comfort to our departure date, but globally this is actually really great news. I will post updates on this as we get more news from the Embassy, as this could have important ramifications for other same-sex families who have children abroad.
On another note, B is officially one month old today (already!). To celebrate... I am heading to bed. Nights are sporadic these days, and this mommy needs all the sleep she can get.
- E
Our biggest adventure lately was heading to the U.S. Embassy to register B's birth. Children born to Americans abroad must be registered at the Embassy in order to get a Consular Report of Birth Abroad. This allows us to apply for his passport (necessary for our upcoming trip to Canada and the U.S.) as well as his social security number. The process is pretty straightforward: after the birth, you make an appointment with the Embassy (be warned that appointments for the U.S. Embassy in Paris fill up about a month in advance!), fill out the requisite applications, and show up at the Embassy with the French birth certificate as well as proof of the parents' citizenship. If you are in a hurry to get a passport, it is worth your while to keep checking the appointment website even after making an initial appointment, because canceled appointment slots re-open often. We were able to shave a week off our initial appointment date by checking regularly - and it's a good thing we did...
We got to the Embassy about 30 minutes before our appointment with our carefully-prepared documents. L and I had both checked over everything twice to ensure that we had filled everything out properly. After waiting an hour or so at the Embassy, but before our number was called, I suddenly realized that ohmygodweforgothisbirthcertificate! Yes, really. Despite our careful checking and double checking, B's birth certificate was sitting in our apartment, an hour away from the Embassy. My heart fell into my stomach. Since our flight to Canada is in less than 4 weeks, and it takes 14 days to get the passport, and about a month to reschedule an appointment, we decided that our only option to play dumb. We headed to the counter when our number was called, handed over all of our forms, and then reenacted our panicked moment 10 minutes before, when we actually realized his birth certificate was missing. And score! The agent helping us was sympathetic, took our application materials, and told us to just mail the certificate in the next day.
Yeah! We were home free!
... or were we?
About 20 minutes later we got called back to a second window, where L was to be sworn in as the final formality. Since L is the only parent on the French birth certificate, and is therefore officially a single mother, she also needed to prove physical presence in the U.S. for at least a year prior to B's birth. Incidentally, married women do not need to provide this documentation - nevermind that we are married! Fortunately we had come armed with utility bills and tax documents that should provide the necessary documentation. We figured that was the last hurdle. The agent helping us, however, asked to swear me in as well. He then explained to us that he wanted to see if there was any way to put my name on the Consular Report of Birth Abroad as well as on B's passport application. If we ever move back to the U.S., the CRBA essentially becomes B's defacto birth certificate, so having both of our names on it would be a really, really big deal. Because we are Registered Domestic Partners in Oregon, had B been born in Oregon we both would be on his birth certificate, so being on the CRBA would essentially be the same thing. The agent told us that he wanted to seek some guidance from the head office in Washington D.C. on how to proceed with our paperwork, and to see if there was any legal reasoning that would allow my name to appear. We may need to make another appearance at the Embassy, and it means we are cutting it waaaay too close for comfort to our departure date, but globally this is actually really great news. I will post updates on this as we get more news from the Embassy, as this could have important ramifications for other same-sex families who have children abroad.
On another note, B is officially one month old today (already!). To celebrate... I am heading to bed. Nights are sporadic these days, and this mommy needs all the sleep she can get.
- E
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Little Guy needs a Speedo.
I took the little guy to the swimming pool here a couple of days ago. Actually, I should say swimming pools - our local sports center is HUGE and includes 3 pools (50m olympic, 25m, and kiddie pool). We only tried out the kiddie pool, but I am looking forward to getting into the larger pool for some laps, one of these days.
The little one LOVED the community pool in Portland (and who wouldn't? It had a 3 story waterslide!) but it has sadly been 6 months. In toddler time, this basically means we are starting from scratch in terms of comfort-level in the water. We definitely need to get back more regularly.
As with every adventure here, though, things at the pool are a little different. First off, the changing rooms. As I walked in, I noticed that everyone was actually obeying the rule to take your shoes off before going into the locker room. Fair enough. I sat down, took both of our shoes off, and then proceeded to walk into the locker room... through the 4 inch deep, 5 foot wide moat of pool water that separates the locker room from the entry area. These guys aren't kidding about taking off your shoes. I didn't think to look down, so the little one and I had 4 soggy inches of pants apiece. Ah well, chalk it up to inexperience. Then, I enter the locker room and see a dad and his son. Wrong locker room? Nope. Coed! The locker room is coed, but ringed by individual changing cubicles. Which is logical, really, because the pool is coed. Why should the space where you store your clothes be any different? But coming from a country where I have never, ever seen a coed locker room, again, it just takes a little mental readjustment. Oh well. I put the little guy in his swim diaper and trunks, and off we went, through another 4 inch, 5 foot moat of pool water to get out to the pool deck.
Then, into the pool. The little guy was content hanging out on the first step (in 3 inches of water) for the first 15 minutes. After a couple of minutes, the lifeguard approached me and told me she was very sorry, but that only bathing suits could be worn in the pool and that they do not allow boxer shorts. Boxer shorts? It took me a second to realize she was referring to the little guy's swim trunks. Then it dawned on me that every single guy there, from 2 to 99, was wearing a speedo. No exceptions. I explained to the lifeguard that this actually was a bathing suit. She was astounded. "I've never seen one of these before," she said. "What country is it from?"
Since I don't want to have to explain this to every lifeguard at every city pool, I guess we'll be getting the little guy a speedo.
- E
The little one LOVED the community pool in Portland (and who wouldn't? It had a 3 story waterslide!) but it has sadly been 6 months. In toddler time, this basically means we are starting from scratch in terms of comfort-level in the water. We definitely need to get back more regularly.
As with every adventure here, though, things at the pool are a little different. First off, the changing rooms. As I walked in, I noticed that everyone was actually obeying the rule to take your shoes off before going into the locker room. Fair enough. I sat down, took both of our shoes off, and then proceeded to walk into the locker room... through the 4 inch deep, 5 foot wide moat of pool water that separates the locker room from the entry area. These guys aren't kidding about taking off your shoes. I didn't think to look down, so the little one and I had 4 soggy inches of pants apiece. Ah well, chalk it up to inexperience. Then, I enter the locker room and see a dad and his son. Wrong locker room? Nope. Coed! The locker room is coed, but ringed by individual changing cubicles. Which is logical, really, because the pool is coed. Why should the space where you store your clothes be any different? But coming from a country where I have never, ever seen a coed locker room, again, it just takes a little mental readjustment. Oh well. I put the little guy in his swim diaper and trunks, and off we went, through another 4 inch, 5 foot moat of pool water to get out to the pool deck.
Then, into the pool. The little guy was content hanging out on the first step (in 3 inches of water) for the first 15 minutes. After a couple of minutes, the lifeguard approached me and told me she was very sorry, but that only bathing suits could be worn in the pool and that they do not allow boxer shorts. Boxer shorts? It took me a second to realize she was referring to the little guy's swim trunks. Then it dawned on me that every single guy there, from 2 to 99, was wearing a speedo. No exceptions. I explained to the lifeguard that this actually was a bathing suit. She was astounded. "I've never seen one of these before," she said. "What country is it from?"
Since I don't want to have to explain this to every lifeguard at every city pool, I guess we'll be getting the little guy a speedo.
- E
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Doctor's Office
Yesterday, when the littlest man was just a week old, we had a doctor's appointment for his big brother. He has had a raging diaper rash that has not responded to traditional ointments or anti-fungal creams, and so we decided to get a second opinion. It was his first appointment with a new doctor, and one we hoped would become our equivalent of a primary care physician, so we decided that it would be helpful if we all went to meet her. Incidentally, her office is right next to the amazing school that we want to send the boys to. It is only 5km from here, but due to its location in a small town, it involves riding 3 busses to get there. And yesterday, that meant in the rain. So we set off, L only 1 week post partum, carrying an umbrella and with the tiny man snuggled on her chest in an Ergo baby carrier, his big brother in a stroller covered with a raincover, and me in a raincoat. We managed all 3 busses just fine, and found the doctor's office with little trouble.
Then, we entered the waiting room. Waiting rooms are TINY here. They are the size of the bathrooms in many American houses. A half dozen chairs are crammed into the tiny space, and they are usually all taken. There is no receptionist. And the room is usually dead silent. Even the kids are quiet, sitting patiently next to their parents or reading books. Then, we showed up. Our toddler decided to play with the train set that was provided (though given the lack of floor space, it seems like an odd choice for a waiting room). He tried several times to dump the entire basket of train track pieces out onto the ground, and then proceeded to build a track that took up half of the floor. At least he was doing it relatively quietly... but we were relieved when the doctor popped her head out of her office door and welcomed us in.
Doctors offices here hold their work desks as well as an examining table. While we sat at her desk to give her his medical history, I happened to glance over at big brother as he was playing on the floor, and noticed an enormous brown volcano bubbling out the top of his diaper, up his shirt, down his pants, and plopping large chunks onto the floor. Holy poopocalypse, batman! I jumped up and tried to stop the mess, but this worked about as well as when I tried to catch his vomit in my hands two nights ago. Ultimately, we ended up with crap all over my pants, my shirt, the floor, his shirt, his pants, and over most of his body. I apologized profusely as I tried to wipe the poop up off her bamboo floor with my pathetic bum wipes. Being the super prepared parents that we are (ha!), we had packed a change of clothes for the infant, but not for the toddler. The visit ended with the doctor lecturing us for letting our little guy eat too much yogurt ("really, how could you let him eat that much yogurt?", she scolded us), prescribing 80€ of probiotics and two creams to tame his poor diaper rash, and telling us to stop all dairy products for two weeks. For a little guy who LOVES his cheese, and in a country with so many delicious choices, this just sounds cruel, but we are going to try it. We ultimately left the office with him wearing his pants and jacket, but no shirt, and with me smelling like a bag of dirty diapers, and still needing to stop at the pharmacy, the grocery store, AND take three busses to get home. Oh, the joys!
- E
Then, we entered the waiting room. Waiting rooms are TINY here. They are the size of the bathrooms in many American houses. A half dozen chairs are crammed into the tiny space, and they are usually all taken. There is no receptionist. And the room is usually dead silent. Even the kids are quiet, sitting patiently next to their parents or reading books. Then, we showed up. Our toddler decided to play with the train set that was provided (though given the lack of floor space, it seems like an odd choice for a waiting room). He tried several times to dump the entire basket of train track pieces out onto the ground, and then proceeded to build a track that took up half of the floor. At least he was doing it relatively quietly... but we were relieved when the doctor popped her head out of her office door and welcomed us in.
Doctors offices here hold their work desks as well as an examining table. While we sat at her desk to give her his medical history, I happened to glance over at big brother as he was playing on the floor, and noticed an enormous brown volcano bubbling out the top of his diaper, up his shirt, down his pants, and plopping large chunks onto the floor. Holy poopocalypse, batman! I jumped up and tried to stop the mess, but this worked about as well as when I tried to catch his vomit in my hands two nights ago. Ultimately, we ended up with crap all over my pants, my shirt, the floor, his shirt, his pants, and over most of his body. I apologized profusely as I tried to wipe the poop up off her bamboo floor with my pathetic bum wipes. Being the super prepared parents that we are (ha!), we had packed a change of clothes for the infant, but not for the toddler. The visit ended with the doctor lecturing us for letting our little guy eat too much yogurt ("really, how could you let him eat that much yogurt?", she scolded us), prescribing 80€ of probiotics and two creams to tame his poor diaper rash, and telling us to stop all dairy products for two weeks. For a little guy who LOVES his cheese, and in a country with so many delicious choices, this just sounds cruel, but we are going to try it. We ultimately left the office with him wearing his pants and jacket, but no shirt, and with me smelling like a bag of dirty diapers, and still needing to stop at the pharmacy, the grocery store, AND take three busses to get home. Oh, the joys!
- E
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Birth Certificate
I told you all I would let L write up the birth story of our new little man (who was born in the apartment!), but since she hasn't gotten to it yet I wanted to at least post a quick note about his birth certificate. Before that, though, here is a little visual of how the animals spent their time while L was in labor:
Anyway, on to the birth certificate. In France, births are declared at the mayor's office (mairie) and must be declared, by law, within 3 business days of the birth. In most cases, the declaration is started by the hospital in which you give birth, and you show up and essentially confirm the details. However, in the case of a homebirth, this means we bring a handwritten note from our midwife to the mayor's office, which is then used to create the official registration of the baby's birth. By law, the midwife has to record the mother's maiden name on the birth certificate (in addition to her married name, if applicable). The rules here state that if a married woman gives birth, the baby's last name will be that of her husband, regardless of whether she has taken his name. If a single woman gives birth (even if in a relationship with the father), the baby's last name will be her maiden name, (or, as it is referred to here, your young girl's name or nom de jeune fille).
Since we are married (again, thanks Canada!) but it is not recognized here, and since L legally changed her last name to mine (but again, that is not recognized here), we were really not sure how this would play out for us. Our midwife had warned me that I would likely not be able to get his birth registered under our shared last name, which would cause major headaches for identity papers and for travelling. Since I was the one going to the mayor's office to register the birth, I arrived already amped up and ready for a fight. To my incredible surprise, the clerk happily recorded our shared last name on his official papers, no questions asked. Again, it seems like the law of the country is not necessarily the law of the cities!
What is even more awesome about this is that when I am in public with our newest son, no one will question our (legal) relationship, even though in France we have no legal relationship. He and I share the same last name; it will therefore be assumed that I am his mother and that I can make decisions for him. In a country where second-parent adoption is illegal, and where I (officially) cannot be his mother, the common name literally makes all the difference.
- E
Anyway, on to the birth certificate. In France, births are declared at the mayor's office (mairie) and must be declared, by law, within 3 business days of the birth. In most cases, the declaration is started by the hospital in which you give birth, and you show up and essentially confirm the details. However, in the case of a homebirth, this means we bring a handwritten note from our midwife to the mayor's office, which is then used to create the official registration of the baby's birth. By law, the midwife has to record the mother's maiden name on the birth certificate (in addition to her married name, if applicable). The rules here state that if a married woman gives birth, the baby's last name will be that of her husband, regardless of whether she has taken his name. If a single woman gives birth (even if in a relationship with the father), the baby's last name will be her maiden name, (or, as it is referred to here, your young girl's name or nom de jeune fille).
Since we are married (again, thanks Canada!) but it is not recognized here, and since L legally changed her last name to mine (but again, that is not recognized here), we were really not sure how this would play out for us. Our midwife had warned me that I would likely not be able to get his birth registered under our shared last name, which would cause major headaches for identity papers and for travelling. Since I was the one going to the mayor's office to register the birth, I arrived already amped up and ready for a fight. To my incredible surprise, the clerk happily recorded our shared last name on his official papers, no questions asked. Again, it seems like the law of the country is not necessarily the law of the cities!
What is even more awesome about this is that when I am in public with our newest son, no one will question our (legal) relationship, even though in France we have no legal relationship. He and I share the same last name; it will therefore be assumed that I am his mother and that I can make decisions for him. In a country where second-parent adoption is illegal, and where I (officially) cannot be his mother, the common name literally makes all the difference.
- E
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Hogwarts + Liberal Expats = Dream School
Today, we found the little one's future school. For us, that is no small accomplishment: even back in Portland we had already been devoting some serious brain time to deciding on the best educational pathway for the kid(s) (Public? Private? Montessori? Charter school? French International School? Magnet school for the arts or the environment?). Once we got to France, our choices at first glance appeared to be limited to the traditional public school system, which is free of charge from kindergarten through university. Kids typically start attending kindergarten (maternelle) at the age of 3. Kindergarten lasts 3 years, after which students move on to primary school, then collège, then lycée (pretty much the equivalent of elementary, middle and high school in the US). There is no school on Wednesdays: instead, students spend the day playing sports or doing other extracurricular activities. The French school system has a reputation for being relatively rigid, and there appears to be a pretty heavy homework burden starting in some of the younger grades. Neither L nor I was totally sold on this system, but we were not aware of many alternatives...
Until now.
These are two of the many buildings and open spaces that make up the incredible Steiner-Waldorf school in Verrières-le-Buisson, just 5 km away from us. Upon the recommendation of our midwife, we checked out the open house this afternoon and were totally sold on the school from the moment we set foot on the property. We foolishly forgot to bring our camera, so L snapped some quick photos on our super crappy cell phone camera. I apologize in advance for the quality of the photos, but hopefully you will get the picture!
The school is a Waldorf school and is home to multiple expat families from all over. They have a sheep on the property, as well as chickens, a woodworking shed, a freaking blacksmith shed (yes, kids learn to forge), as well as pottery, sculpture, foreign languages, and an incredible campus made up of multiple buildings and surrounded by nature. The kindergarten classes (4 of them) each have 20-25 kids from the ages of 3-6, who share a common class and learn through arts, play, and interaction with the world around them. These are some photos of one of the kindergarten classrooms:
Notice anything crazy? ... NO PLASTIC!!! Students arrive at 8:40, and school ends at 3:30. Students collectively eat lunch in the classroom, that is equipped with its own kitchen. Even the 3 year olds help set the table, shake out the napkins, rinse plates, and compost the leftovers.
After lunch, the kids get to take naps at school in TRIPLE BUNK BEDS! Aaaaah! So cute, I almost died. The photo is too dark to really see, but each little bunk has its own stuffed animal peeking out from under a soft comforter. Kids spend a couple of hours snoozing in the afternoon before being allowed to wake up at their own rhythm.
Each kindergarten class also has its own garden play area.
We seriously got giddy walking around the campus. I don't think we could have dreamed up such a magical school. There are enormous stone mansions (seriously, think Hogwarts), contrasted with eco-friendly smaller structures and green spaces, and the whole campus just oozes with this awesome hippie commune vibe. There are tons of international parents (English ones, too!) and maybe, just maybe, if we are really lucky, another gay or lesbian family. No teacher or parent that I spoke to could think of anyone at the school with same-sex parents, but that response was also usually followed up by "but there's really no reason there shouldn't be!"
So there is a sliver of hope that we can finally connect with some like-minded souls here. I know that both L and I feel like our own souls were nourished in the 2 hours we spent on campus - imagine the effect of YEARS in such an amazing environment.
- E
Until now.
These are two of the many buildings and open spaces that make up the incredible Steiner-Waldorf school in Verrières-le-Buisson, just 5 km away from us. Upon the recommendation of our midwife, we checked out the open house this afternoon and were totally sold on the school from the moment we set foot on the property. We foolishly forgot to bring our camera, so L snapped some quick photos on our super crappy cell phone camera. I apologize in advance for the quality of the photos, but hopefully you will get the picture!
The school is a Waldorf school and is home to multiple expat families from all over. They have a sheep on the property, as well as chickens, a woodworking shed, a freaking blacksmith shed (yes, kids learn to forge), as well as pottery, sculpture, foreign languages, and an incredible campus made up of multiple buildings and surrounded by nature. The kindergarten classes (4 of them) each have 20-25 kids from the ages of 3-6, who share a common class and learn through arts, play, and interaction with the world around them. These are some photos of one of the kindergarten classrooms:
Notice anything crazy? ... NO PLASTIC!!! Students arrive at 8:40, and school ends at 3:30. Students collectively eat lunch in the classroom, that is equipped with its own kitchen. Even the 3 year olds help set the table, shake out the napkins, rinse plates, and compost the leftovers.
After lunch, the kids get to take naps at school in TRIPLE BUNK BEDS! Aaaaah! So cute, I almost died. The photo is too dark to really see, but each little bunk has its own stuffed animal peeking out from under a soft comforter. Kids spend a couple of hours snoozing in the afternoon before being allowed to wake up at their own rhythm.
So there is a sliver of hope that we can finally connect with some like-minded souls here. I know that both L and I feel like our own souls were nourished in the 2 hours we spent on campus - imagine the effect of YEARS in such an amazing environment.
- E
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
4015
4015. That is how many page views our blog has had since its conception in October of last year. Holy crap! That's a tiny number to many seasoned bloggers, I'm sure, but I was pretty surprised that our ramblings for family and friends have been viewed that many times. I know I've said before how much we both enjoy posting to the blog, even though we don't post nearly often enough, so merci, tout le monde, for staying with us through the periods of drought!
It also occurred to me that while we probably know most of the current blog subscribers in person, there are probably some people who keep up with our posts that we don't actually know, and we should probably do a better job of introducing ourselves and explaining how we even ended up in France.
L is from the Southwestern United States, and I am from the province of Quebec. L is American, and I am Canadian-American thanks to the nationalities of my parents. Since we met 6 years ago at a dinner party, we first dated long distance for about a year, and then reunited in Portland, Oregon, where we spent 5 years surrounded by awesome friends, fresh, local, and eclectic food, and beautiful hiking spots. We are married (thanks, Canada!), registered domestic partners (thanks, Oregon!), and will soon be PACsé (the French equivalent of civil unions), once we assemble the required paperwork. We are looking forward to the day when our marriage is recognized everywhere so we can stop collecting certificates that are only valid within geographical boundaries!
Both of us took the road less traveled to our current occupations, although L is currently on hiatus from work to do the incredibly important and exhausting work of raising our 2 year old son (and soon to be baby #2 - stay tuned in the next few weeks...). Before we met, both of us had traveled, moved far away from our families, and generally been pretty good at building a life in a new place. We had talked about moving to Europe in a 10 or 15 year plan, but had no idea that the opportunity would come as soon as it did. We dove headfirst into this move and I can definitely say that it has been more challenging than either of us expected. Moving to another country is tough; moving away from an incredible support system of friends is tougher.
When we were researching France before our move, it hit us that there was virtually no information available to same-sex couples emigrating to France, and even less about same-sex parents. Second parent (same sex) adoption is illegal here, and it is also illegal to provide fertility services to lesbians (and, I believe, to single women regardless of sexual orientation). In starting this blog, we first hoped to remain connected with our amazing network of family and friends, but second, we also hoped to provide a resource for same-sex couples here and abroad. I can admit that we have not done a stellar job on the second objective so far, mainly because things move pretty slowly and we are still in the process of going through all of the immigration formalities. I can safely predict that in the next month or so, there will be more posts on these topics!
Hope you enjoy what you have read so far. More will certainly follow!
Cheers,
-E
It also occurred to me that while we probably know most of the current blog subscribers in person, there are probably some people who keep up with our posts that we don't actually know, and we should probably do a better job of introducing ourselves and explaining how we even ended up in France.
L is from the Southwestern United States, and I am from the province of Quebec. L is American, and I am Canadian-American thanks to the nationalities of my parents. Since we met 6 years ago at a dinner party, we first dated long distance for about a year, and then reunited in Portland, Oregon, where we spent 5 years surrounded by awesome friends, fresh, local, and eclectic food, and beautiful hiking spots. We are married (thanks, Canada!), registered domestic partners (thanks, Oregon!), and will soon be PACsé (the French equivalent of civil unions), once we assemble the required paperwork. We are looking forward to the day when our marriage is recognized everywhere so we can stop collecting certificates that are only valid within geographical boundaries!
Both of us took the road less traveled to our current occupations, although L is currently on hiatus from work to do the incredibly important and exhausting work of raising our 2 year old son (and soon to be baby #2 - stay tuned in the next few weeks...). Before we met, both of us had traveled, moved far away from our families, and generally been pretty good at building a life in a new place. We had talked about moving to Europe in a 10 or 15 year plan, but had no idea that the opportunity would come as soon as it did. We dove headfirst into this move and I can definitely say that it has been more challenging than either of us expected. Moving to another country is tough; moving away from an incredible support system of friends is tougher.
When we were researching France before our move, it hit us that there was virtually no information available to same-sex couples emigrating to France, and even less about same-sex parents. Second parent (same sex) adoption is illegal here, and it is also illegal to provide fertility services to lesbians (and, I believe, to single women regardless of sexual orientation). In starting this blog, we first hoped to remain connected with our amazing network of family and friends, but second, we also hoped to provide a resource for same-sex couples here and abroad. I can admit that we have not done a stellar job on the second objective so far, mainly because things move pretty slowly and we are still in the process of going through all of the immigration formalities. I can safely predict that in the next month or so, there will be more posts on these topics!
Hope you enjoy what you have read so far. More will certainly follow!
Cheers,
-E
Saturday, December 3, 2011
New Place
Lazy Saturday morning in Bures: it's raining, I'm (finally) getting some laundry done in the hotel laundry room (€7 for 1 load means I don't want to do this too often), making a grocery list for this afternoon, and finally have a moment to upload some photos of the new place. We don't move in for two more weeks but I can't resist sharing the "before" photo of the kitchen, which is by far the worst room in the apartment.
Those of you who know us well know how much we like to cook. We will definitely need to perform some kitchen updates to make that possible. For starters, we need a fridge, stove, and oven. Oh, and a countertop. What you see in the photo is what you get: a double sink (sweet!) and some cabinets. On the plus side, this means that we get to customize our kitchen a little bit. There are several large superstores here that sell relatively cheap appliances (goodbye, stainless; hellooooo, cheap white fridge!) with free installation. There is also a French version of craigslist (called "leboncoin"), but given the heft of most major appliances and the lack of vehicle, it just makes more sense to get these items new. Plus, I really don't want to install large appliances on a power grid that I don't understand.
The rest of the apartment is considerably better. Below are the living room and bedrooms:
One peculiarity is that windows in France don't tend to have screens. On the first floor with both two-legged and four-legged children, I don't see that working too well during the warm weather months. Fortunately, we have a good 6 months before we need to worry about that.
The apartment also has a toilet room (typically separate from the bathtub/shower and sink in French apartments) and a bathroom (tub, sink, and washer/dryer hookups). Both of these rooms are tiled floor-to-ceiling in kitschy pink tile. It's the type of thing that you just have to embrace. Decorating ideas are welcome - and, on the bright side, it will be easy to keep clean.
Unlike many apartments that open right up onto the sidewalk, this apartment also has a nice, grassy courtyard, is 2 minutes (walking) to the bakery, 8 minutes to the train, and 15 minutes to the grocery store and library. I have no idea what the schools are like, but we have a year and a half to figure that out (kindergarten starts at age 3 here). In the meantime this will be a convenient home base from which to explore the area, with easy access to Paris (about 20 minutes by train) and to a great outdoor recreation area with bike paths and hiking (about 25 minutes by train).
Because we may want to travel both with animals and bikes, I was curious to see what the rules were for local travel. I have seen several dogs (and bikes) on the train (including a full size labradoodle on someone's lap in downtown Paris at 11pm). It turns out that on the Paris metro system, no dogs are allowed, but on the RER trains (that pass through the heart of Paris), leashed dogs are welcome. You must, however, purchase each dog a "reduced fare ticket", same as a child. Bikes are allowed during off-peak hours. Awesome on both counts!
That's it for the apartment. We also get a basement storage room and garage (for bikes and strollers) which will be incredibly helpful as we cram into 660 square feet. Obviously it will be nice to get our furniture, kitchen accessories, and extra clothes, skis, and bikes - but oddly enough I don't really miss anything that's packed away. As much as we pared down (viciously!) before leaving, I have a feeling that once our container arrives, we'll have the urge to pare down our stuff even more. Perhaps I will get to be as familiar to the Goodwill collection guys (or the equivalent) here as I was to the Goodwill staff in Portland!
As far as plans for the rest of the weekend, I am feeling the need to just curl up and do absolutely nothing at all. I'm sure part of it is the weather, and part of it is that I miss my wife and son terribly (listening to Christmas-themed Vinyl Cafe podcasts is probably not helping, either). Two weeks is a long time to go without seeing your loves, especially when one is pregnant and one is just a wee one: a lot happens in 14 days. I feel like the little one will have grown two inches, and that L's belly will have grown so much. Nothing like a little absence to make you remember how much you have to be grateful for.
- E
The rest of the apartment is considerably better. Below are the living room and bedrooms:
The apartment also has a toilet room (typically separate from the bathtub/shower and sink in French apartments) and a bathroom (tub, sink, and washer/dryer hookups). Both of these rooms are tiled floor-to-ceiling in kitschy pink tile. It's the type of thing that you just have to embrace. Decorating ideas are welcome - and, on the bright side, it will be easy to keep clean.
Unlike many apartments that open right up onto the sidewalk, this apartment also has a nice, grassy courtyard, is 2 minutes (walking) to the bakery, 8 minutes to the train, and 15 minutes to the grocery store and library. I have no idea what the schools are like, but we have a year and a half to figure that out (kindergarten starts at age 3 here). In the meantime this will be a convenient home base from which to explore the area, with easy access to Paris (about 20 minutes by train) and to a great outdoor recreation area with bike paths and hiking (about 25 minutes by train).
That's it for the apartment. We also get a basement storage room and garage (for bikes and strollers) which will be incredibly helpful as we cram into 660 square feet. Obviously it will be nice to get our furniture, kitchen accessories, and extra clothes, skis, and bikes - but oddly enough I don't really miss anything that's packed away. As much as we pared down (viciously!) before leaving, I have a feeling that once our container arrives, we'll have the urge to pare down our stuff even more. Perhaps I will get to be as familiar to the Goodwill collection guys (or the equivalent) here as I was to the Goodwill staff in Portland!
As far as plans for the rest of the weekend, I am feeling the need to just curl up and do absolutely nothing at all. I'm sure part of it is the weather, and part of it is that I miss my wife and son terribly (listening to Christmas-themed Vinyl Cafe podcasts is probably not helping, either). Two weeks is a long time to go without seeing your loves, especially when one is pregnant and one is just a wee one: a lot happens in 14 days. I feel like the little one will have grown two inches, and that L's belly will have grown so much. Nothing like a little absence to make you remember how much you have to be grateful for.
- E
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Fun with visas!
After 3 months of false starts and missed deadlines (which is a whole other post), we finally had our visa appointment at the closest consulate (San Francisco) this week. With some exceptions for small children, anyone applying for a visa to France must apply in person, so L, the little one and I took a (much needed!) 48 hour mini-vacation. We rode the cable car, visited Fisherman's Wharf, ate our way through North Beach, and enjoyed surprisingly sunny and warm-ish temperatures. Of course, the real reason for our trip was to bring all of our paperwork to the French Consulate. Given Europe's reputation for being relatively progressive on gay and lesbian issues, we were surprised to find out that France does not recognize same-sex marriage. They do have a form of civil union (called a PACS) open to French residents, but for immigration purposes, same sex couples are left with few options. To clarify, I will be in France on a work visa. For most heterosexual couples and their kids, this means (almost) automatic approval for the spouse and children (as accompanying family members). For us, on the other hand, my wife and son essentially had to apply on their own (as "Long term visitors"). As you can imagine, the difference in paperwork is substantial:
Married, heterosexual couple with kids - paperwork requested:*
- Passports
- Application forms and processing fees
- Marriage certificate
- Birth certificates for the kids
Married, lesbian couple with kids - what we provided:
- Passports
- Application forms and processing fees
- Marriage certificate (Canada)
- Registered domestic partnership certificate (State of Oregon)
- Birth certificate for the little one (note: because of Oregon's registered domestic partnership rights, both of our names were automatically put on his birth certificate at the time of his birth. If this hadn't been the case, we would have also needed a notarized letter from the donor giving permission for him to move overseas)
- Notarized letter written by L stating that she promises not to seek employment while in France
- Notarized letter written by me guaranteeing that I will provide financial support for L and the little one(s) while in France
- Copies of bank statements
- Copies of retirement account statements
- Proof of health insurance while abroad
- Proof of a residence while abroad - lease or deed (which, of course, we don't have yet, but we did provide a letter from the housing agency that I will work with upon my arrival)
- Letters from our local police department stating that neither of us have criminal records (while this wasn't listed as a required document for the SF consulate, it was a requirement for other French consulates in the USA)
As crazy as this all sounds, this is just the beginning of the bureaucracy that one must navigate in order to become a legal resident of France. Once we arrive in France, I'm told, it gets even more fun: pour yourself a nice glass of wine and check out this incredible blog, written by two gay American expats who have also made a home for themselves in Paris.
What's the most frustrating is that after all of this documentation, L and the little one's visas are still not guaranteed. As the visa officer put it, all of the proof of our relationship above does not equal a marriage certificate (even though we got married in Canada, it's not recognized by the French government as legitimate). All of this means that even though we already have our plane tickets (yup, another requirement - your confirmed itinerary must be included at the time of application), we still don't have approved visas in-hand. We'll be checking the mail religiously for the next two weeks, every day hoping to see the Express Mail envelopes that will contain our passports and, ideally, our visas.
- E
*Common Sense Disclaimer: Immigration is a tricky subject. This is in no way meant to represent official requirements to obtain a visitor's visa - rather, this reflects our experience with a single consulate.
Married, heterosexual couple with kids - paperwork requested:*
- Passports
- Application forms and processing fees
- Marriage certificate
- Birth certificates for the kids
Married, lesbian couple with kids - what we provided:
- Passports
- Application forms and processing fees
- Marriage certificate (Canada)
- Registered domestic partnership certificate (State of Oregon)
- Birth certificate for the little one (note: because of Oregon's registered domestic partnership rights, both of our names were automatically put on his birth certificate at the time of his birth. If this hadn't been the case, we would have also needed a notarized letter from the donor giving permission for him to move overseas)
- Notarized letter written by L stating that she promises not to seek employment while in France
- Notarized letter written by me guaranteeing that I will provide financial support for L and the little one(s) while in France
- Copies of bank statements
- Copies of retirement account statements
- Proof of health insurance while abroad
- Proof of a residence while abroad - lease or deed (which, of course, we don't have yet, but we did provide a letter from the housing agency that I will work with upon my arrival)
- Letters from our local police department stating that neither of us have criminal records (while this wasn't listed as a required document for the SF consulate, it was a requirement for other French consulates in the USA)
As crazy as this all sounds, this is just the beginning of the bureaucracy that one must navigate in order to become a legal resident of France. Once we arrive in France, I'm told, it gets even more fun: pour yourself a nice glass of wine and check out this incredible blog, written by two gay American expats who have also made a home for themselves in Paris.
What's the most frustrating is that after all of this documentation, L and the little one's visas are still not guaranteed. As the visa officer put it, all of the proof of our relationship above does not equal a marriage certificate (even though we got married in Canada, it's not recognized by the French government as legitimate). All of this means that even though we already have our plane tickets (yup, another requirement - your confirmed itinerary must be included at the time of application), we still don't have approved visas in-hand. We'll be checking the mail religiously for the next two weeks, every day hoping to see the Express Mail envelopes that will contain our passports and, ideally, our visas.
- E
*Common Sense Disclaimer: Immigration is a tricky subject. This is in no way meant to represent official requirements to obtain a visitor's visa - rather, this reflects our experience with a single consulate.
Welcome to Crazytown - moving a family overseas
Hi there, family, friends, and anyone else who have managed to find us online!
This is a first attempt at a blog by either myself or my wife, so bear with us as we work out the kinks. We're E and L, two lesbian moms currently in Portland, OR, in the process of moving our family to the suburbs of Paris. In our fact-finding leading up to the move, we noticed two groups barely present in the blogosphere - lesbian moms in France, and lesbian expats in general. I'm hoping that by posting here, we will be able to connect with other lesbian expat families and provide some helpful insights to others interested in making a similar move.
As of today, the countdown is 13 days until my flight leaves for Paris. L and our toddler son will follow two weeks later with the dog and cat, ideally arriving after I've found us an apartment. However, all of this is contingent on one (small) detail: our visas. Story of our life for the past 3 months. Interested? Read on!
- E
This is a first attempt at a blog by either myself or my wife, so bear with us as we work out the kinks. We're E and L, two lesbian moms currently in Portland, OR, in the process of moving our family to the suburbs of Paris. In our fact-finding leading up to the move, we noticed two groups barely present in the blogosphere - lesbian moms in France, and lesbian expats in general. I'm hoping that by posting here, we will be able to connect with other lesbian expat families and provide some helpful insights to others interested in making a similar move.
As of today, the countdown is 13 days until my flight leaves for Paris. L and our toddler son will follow two weeks later with the dog and cat, ideally arriving after I've found us an apartment. However, all of this is contingent on one (small) detail: our visas. Story of our life for the past 3 months. Interested? Read on!
- E
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