This weekend, I was reminded over and over again how very fortunate I am when it comes to Georges' family here in France. One of Georges' sisters came for lunch on Saturday, along with her son and a good friend of the family. It's the first time that this particular sister (he has several) was able to come just for an intimate, casual meal with us in our home, and of course I wanted to make a good impression simply because it was their first time here, even though of course I've met her elsewhere several times over the past four years and we get along very well. And her son, Georges' only nephew, is one of those people you can't help but like, he's just so easy going and fun to be around. Because I never met Georges' parents, getting to know his sisters has been really important to me, and I'm sure it's important to him as well because they are his family.
I am sure the last thing any of Georges' kids or sisters ever expected was to have a lunatic American writer enter their lives and refuse to leave. Of course, we've had to make adjustments on both sides for the language and culture gaps, although on my side it feels much easier now than in the beginning simply because I'm making progress with the language and I can participate more in the conversations (I think they are finally beginning to realize I am NOT so quiet as they thought at first!)
Some of the adjustments the older kids have had to make are even a little humorous. A few months ago, Georges' older son and I were chatting while he was here doing his laundry, and he happened to mention that although they thought I was nice when they met me and they had no problem at all when Georges and I moved in together, when he and his sister first found out Georges and I were planning to get married, they were rather shocked -- not because they didn't like me, but because for some reason they just assumed I wouldn't stick around, that I would eventually go back to America! Then when they found out about our wedding plans, they wondered if I was just marrying Georges for the residency card! I had to laugh out loud about that when he said it because (a) it's not like I'm a refugee, I didn't need a French residency card THAT badly that I'd just marry anyone in order to get it, and (b) it just tickled me to imagine the two kids whispering together about their new foreign step-mom-to-be, trying to "figure me out". Kids that age are always short-sighted and often judgmental because they simply don't have the life experience to teach them how to really read people accurately, and that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. They were usually pretty nice to me anyway, but for a long time I could tell they were not allowing themselves to fully trust me and on a few occasions we had some small clashes.
I could understand that they, being adolescents at that time, were naturally a little distrustful of someone who was so strange to their way of thinking. In fact, that same son used to complain to his dad early on that "there's all this strange food in the house now that she's here!" -- and the so-called strange food was really nothing more than American brand products I'd either brought from home or bought here. Yes, Heinz Ketchup is sold in France! (He was also shocked to learn that I LOVE LOVE LOVE escargots: "But... you're AMERICAN!") Clearly, the kids had a lot to learn about Americans before they could come to understand that there are more similarities than differences, and that the differences aren't really so horrible after all. They also needed time to get to know me as a person, to see that I'm someone they CAN come to trust and rely on if they need to. I'm not their mother and they don't need me to be, but I care about them and their lives and their wellbeing. And Georges and I always knew that time would give them the "proof" they needed, the reasurrance that we ARE a "real" couple and I'm here to stay.
I was a little nervous with Georges' sister coming to lunch for the first time, but it was clear that I really had nothing to worry about. Now I think we're all at that place -- me and Georges, his kids, and now also his sisters -- where there is no longer a need to prove anything within the family. I am now just a part of it, albeit perhaps a more unusual part and one who still needs a translation now and then. All three kids are comfortable and happy around me (the Little Guy actually brought me FLOWERS yesterday afternoon, that he chose himself and it was his own idea, and they were for no special occasion -- my first "Mom" flowers!), I am the same around them and am always happy to see them when they're here (since they all come and go at different intervals, it's difficult to get all three of them in the room at the same time, but we'll take what we can get). I miss the kids when I don't see them for a while, too. I love when the Little Guy sits next to me to cuddle up while he's simultaneously playing a game on Georges' iPad, or when we share a laugh together over something silly. I love it when my step-daughter comes home for a weekend, and we hang out and just talk for a while, especially when sometimes she'll choose to share something extra with me about what's going on in her life. And I love when the oldest talks to me about his architecture school projects because that's clearly the biggest thing in his life at the moment, and he knows I'm always interested. The icing on the familial cake is that now, where Georges' sisters are concerned, I noticed this weekend that I also feel more natural, more like I can be myself around them... but in truth they have always, ALWAYS, right from the get-go, been completely wonderful to me, always doing their best to make me feel welcome in the family, even when I was a complete stranger to them. And for this I am especially grateful.
So Saturday at our family table, we had one sister and a nephew, Georges' two boys and his step-daughter (his daughter is away at school and couldn't make it, having just been home the previous weekend), plus our good friend from the south, and we Skyped in Georges' sister down in Saint Raphael for some added fun and craziness. Between the two of us, Georges and I put together a really good meal for everyone (he does the bulk of the cooking but I do all the shopping and organizing, and much of the set-up and the clean-up), and frankly -- we had a BLAST together. It was just a wonderful weekend, en famille. In some French families, nearly every weekend involves at least one big family lunch, but because Georges' family is rather spread out, we rarely get to do these things together, which makes it even better when we can.
Sometimes I really miss my own family and friends back home, and I always will miss them. But it's wonderful to know that now, I really DO have family here in France.
