Heading to the park with my
son not long ago, I bumped
into my neighbour, Carole.
She was off on a girls’ night out
and looked fresh faced, calm
and relaxed with no signs of
having given birth eight weeks
earlier. Carole freely admitted
she’d made the transition to
motherhood relatively easy on
herself by adopting a flexible
‘no rules’ approach. She took each day as it came, wasn’t
reading any books and combined breastfeeding with
formula, which allowed her husband to do night feeds while
she got some sleep. ‘Happy mum, happy child, right?’ she
said with a conspiratorial wink. I couldn’t help but envy her.
I assumed that feeling bone-weary tired 24/7 was simply
part and parcel of parenting, but here was a new mum
showing me another way.
I should mention that Carole is French. My husband,
toddler and I moved to the south of France six months ago
(in search of more time together as a family, less stress
commuting and sunshine), and discovered that attitudes
here to bringing up baby vary wildly from our hyper-
parenting culture in the UK. For a start, French women
don’t seem to engage in maternal one-upmanship. When
I put my son in a crèche two days a week to go back to work
after four months, many English mums I told were shocked.
Here, women nodded in agreement. In France, women
receive 16 weeks’ paid maternity leave and childcare isheavily subsidised by the state (the average two-child
family in England with two working parents spends around
40 per cent of its disposable income on childcare,
compared to ten per cent in France*), so most return to the
workplace sooner and without judgment.
I’ve never fully subscribed to the perennial fixation with
French women. In my short time living in France, I can
confirm that our Gallic counterparts have their foibles and
hang-ups just like the rest of us, but it’s hard not to be
impressed by their self-assuredness. The French women
I’ve met take ownership of their opinions and choices, and
don’t feel the need to explain themselves. This is especially
true of parenting. I’ve encountered plenty of non-working
mothers who put their kids in a crèche one or two days
a week, so they can have some ‘me time’ because in France,
you’re a woman first and a mum second, which (the theory
goes) is ultimately better for the child. So ingrained is this
belief in the national psyche that the French government
subsidises ‘perineal re-education’, ie Kegel classes, so new
mums can get back to enjoying a healthy sex life as soon as
possible. Maybe this is why France has one of the highest
birth rates in Europe.
French parents can interfere in other ways, though. I’ve
been told my son looks too hot/cold/is unruly at the dinner
table. And I’m not sure I’m cut out for their authoritarian
approach to discipline. Anglophone kids may be less well
behaved, but they seem to become more social and creative
as adults. That said, I like how motherhood isn’t all-
consuming here. It’s simply another – albeit important- part of a woman’s identity. As my friend Meryem tells
HOW TO BE A
très chilled
maman
Since moving to France with her husband and toddler, Alix O’Neill has discovered
a totally refreshing approach to parenting from her new mum friends
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