I've always wanted to be bilingual. I know a smattering of phrases and words in other languages. I can say be careful, praise God, and eat fish in Indonesian. I can say darn it in French thanks to a very animated, somewhat crazy french teacher in high school. I can greet someone in Thai and say goodbye in Russian. I can sign my name and say thank you in ASL. I can say a phrase or two in German that would make me blush to say in English compliments of an exchange student. I also took three years of high school Spanish which, as everyone knows, equates to being able to introduce myself and ask where the bathroom is. But sadly, these small feats do not even come close to making me bilingual.
But you know what does? Being a mom. When your kids first start talking you suddenly find yourself in the position of having to translate for everyone. Your little treasure asks for something and Grandma turns to you for clarification. Or you notice the way that other people will simply nod and smile and say things like "really?" when your child talks. Clearly they have no idea what your child has just said to them. And you become the expert translator.
Eventually, other people pick up on what your child is saying and your skills aren't as necessary. But then a new stage of being bilingual kicks in. You begin to give your child directions and he doesn't comply. He simply continues on with whatever it was that he was doing before. That is a frequent occurrence at my house. It happens so often that I can only determine that I am speaking a different language. It sounds like English to me but there must be something else coming out of my mouth because my kids look at me like they don't have the first idea of what Mommy is talking about.
This wasn't what I thought being bilingual would be like. It is a sad substitute, but these days I'll take whatever I can.
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