- When my son had 1, we moved from San Francisco to Thailand.
- People in Thailand welcomed us with open arms and helped me if necessary.
- We returned to the United States at the age of 5 and had a culture shock.
When my son had 1 hills in northeast Thailand. When I got off the plane, I could say that my parental experience would be different.
Once on the ground, we jumped into a courtesy van that would take us on another hour’s trip to Loei province, our final destination in northeast Thailand. While we stopped to feed in one of the many 7 Elevens dotting the highway, I dodged the store to buy essential elements.
Unfortunately, My screaming baby had other plans. He kicked and armed his back while I was trying to pay the cashier, only to suddenly be taken and appeased by a Thai woman of average age (and a perfect unknown) while I fished through my pockets for the unknown Thai currency.
I would soon learn that it was the norm in Thailand: I have never had a dirty look when My son was in tears or noisyOnly an endless flow of adorable aunts ready to help the moment they were necessary – even before their interrogation.
I was a helicopter mother in the United States
As a former Mom helicopterIt was new to me. Parenting in the San Francisco Bay region had been a company, particularly solo, especially as a young mother whose friends were not very interested in children, not to mention families.
When we settled in our new house in Loei with a Small community of expatriatesI learned the extent of the conviviality and the camaraderie of the Thai people. I enlisted the help of a nanny named OT, who insisted that we call it aunt with the afterwhelming Before his name.
PA ot has become a real aunt for my son and, frankly, like a second mother for me. With several children and much more experience than me, she showed me how to soothe my baby mosquito nets And remove the relentless cradle cap that has repeatedly arose in stifling humidity.
People have taken care of us
She showed my son how to eat traditional Thai fashion, striking and tight sticky rice in a small bowl with her fingers to pick up a piece of meat or vegetables. She also taught us both to speak Thai, although my son is still ahead of me.
On weekends, she would invite us to the local river to swim, another opportunity to meet the Thai villagers and discover their lifestyle. She even showed me the wall where she had printed her photo after months taking care of my son and hung him as if he were part of the family.
Then there was Jung Niem, the goalkeeper who tended to gardens in our small community of expatriates. He invited my son obsessed with a truck to sit on the siege before his work truck with him and to wade on the steering wheel, never too busy or distracted to take the time. The office director, Pi Pat, regularly grabbed my kid and plunged him on his lap, laughing while hitting the keyboard and terrorized the tiny office.
When we moved to Bangkok, the welcome continued. Our tall apartments complex was like a small village, with two restaurants, a dry cleaner, a 7-Eleven and two massage stores on the ground floor. Mothers and children were still outside, ready to play, and we didn’t need to perfect the language to make friends.
When we returned to the United States, I experienced a culture shock
The real culture shock settled when we returned to the United States when my son was five years old. I had forgotten how the island people could be, even the parents with children who ostensibly needed me as much as I needed. Between the hours and competing priorities, pinning a game game is similar to the coordination of a rocket launch.
In Thailand, I finally learned to relax and accept the help I needed as an inexperienced young mother. The Thai people welcomed me and my son with open arms, no question asked: the community was given, not a luxury. Returning to my country of origin, it struck me the poverty of the community with which we are often confronted in our individualist culture, in particular in a frantic metropolis like the region of the bay.
Thailand taught me how powerful it is to receive community support as a parent, giving new meaning to the adage often used but rarely lived, “you need a village”.
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