14. Master the French Language

To quote my favorite poet: "Encore, encore, encore, encore, encore, encore, encore, encore, encore."

When I first moved to France, I was so anxious about speaking French that if I knew I had a French convo ahead of me, I would preemptively look up relevant phrases and words to deploy as necessary. I would do this before going to the dentist or the post office. I was often wrong or misunderstood anyway, but at least I had come prepared.

My French teacher was the first person I was able to have prolonged French conversations with, as she was used to talking to people with unintelligible accents and jacked up grammar. I also felt at ease at boba cafes since I had memorized the script for ordering a small milk tea with pudding, no ice, 30% sugar please, thank you, have a good day.

The first time I gave birth, I was nervous about my French level. Would I be able to understand the doctor, midwife, and nurses in my epidural haze? Turns out the basic gist of French labor is pretty easy to understand.

Sage-femme: Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore!

Me: [pushes]

Sage-femme: Plus fort! Plus fort! Plus fort!

Me: [pushes]

Sage-femme: Encore! Encore! Allez! Allez! Allez!

Me: [pushes]

Sage-femme: Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore! Encore!

Now my French is better (but still embarrassing), yet I still sometimes prepare ahead of time for conversations by boning up on relevant vocabulary. A few months ago, my 9-month old son started seeing a physiotherapist. The stakes for speaking good French have gotten higher since having kids. It's not just me trying to successfully order shawarma -- I am this kid's advocate, and my shitty French is the shield with which I protect him.

The appointment turned out to just be an expensive playdate.