Language has come to the forefront in my thinking, once again. Why is it so important to speak correctly and articulately, when most of us agree it usually lacks the real communication we so desperately need when feeling is involved? How can there be such a plethora of synonyms when what we really crave is the touch of a hand, a caring gaze, maybe a nibble on the neck? Is it because hearing is the last of the evolutionary senses and human language came so late in the game? Do we often search for the simplicity of mom's caress on the forehead, a mere hushing sound? Why was I so able to understand my infant son, when I knew full well he didn't speak a lick of English or French? When does our fall from the grace of human comprehension actually occur? One beautifully written book I can recommend is by Dean Falk, Finding Their Tongues: The Rise of Motherese and How it Led to the Development of Language, Music and Art. This anthropologist's work on the evolution of mother and infant communication made me reconsider what it means to be a mommy and philologist, translator and learner. Not only was I completely enthralled by my son, but I was also observing him as a linguist might. In the past two weeks, he has finally begun to repeat two-syllable words in English and French, making his father and me truly proud. Then again, he also has to hug and kiss a girl or two when I pick him up from daycare. Yeah, Dad's French and Mom's a flirt. God help us all.

Michigan winter weather has come with its icy vengeance, retribution for amazingly warm days in November. The 3 main food groups are now carbs, chocolate and alcohol. I am currently imbibing. How else am I going to write?

The toddler turns two in two weeks and then we leave for France, where the 3 main food groups will be presented in style for Christmas and New Years. We haven't celebrated the holidays there in several years and it's really amazing how I integrate those traditions so readily with my own. Maybe it's a cultural chameleon act, maybe it's a search to be different.

During my coursework to teach ESL, my professor for Teaching Culture asked me if I felt bi-cultural, and I had to say no. While I love French culture, the language, history and my in-laws and friends, I know that I am the "other". I still make social gaffes and I cannot explain away certain things. Certain situations cause me great discomfort and at some point "Je perds mon latin".

Conversely, my fellow Americans find me an oddity, since I spent such a long time and great deal of money to study two foreign languages. Merely stating I love languages never seemed to satisfy those who haven't done so. What good would it do me to study French literature? The good, of course, was monetary. How could I make a living from that? How is that a serious subject? No matter how I would try to articulate my reasoning, the point wasn't made. I wasn't a serious adult all of those years. Why would I want to teach languages that would be useless to my students? "You only need English, after all. The whole world speaks it , and I won't travel where they don't." Some such argument was used against my choice for my future. It's interesting how we Americans always talk about freedom and then feel free to shove our opinions down someone's throat. I was often shocked by the narrow-minded, nearly xenophobic statements.

I am no longer so naive as to think that my intellectual pursuits should be taken for what they are, MINE. Happily, I am older, better spoken, more confident and less worried about pleasing the riff raff. And in the last 18 years, French has been my main source of income, to the dismay of some. And in the meantime, 2 foreign languages have opened doors to the homes and lives of many wonderful people. And no, they didn't all "just speak English". The richness of my experiences through travel and international work are not quantifiable. Rather, the beauty marks are imprinted in my memory and they guide my thinking and behavior toward that intangible "other" I keep meeting in various locales, exotic and domestic.

My son will be bilingual and bi-cultural if it's the last thing I do.

And you? Do you have a heritage language? Is it an integrated part of your life? Was it an embarrassment or impediment? How can I help my little one understand his two distinct countries? It's new territory for me.