Madrid to Paris - Moving Cities with Young Kids

 Let’s talk about moving countries with kids.

I’ve moved a lot in my life—from Paris to Brussels, Brussels to Paris, Paris to Germany, Germany to Paris, Paris to Belgium, Belgium to London, London to Spain, and now from Spain to Paris. Many of these moves happened when I was a child, and I enjoyed them; I made new friends, explored new countries, and experienced different cultures. However, I never considered the implications of moving, on average, every 2½ years on children. Some adapt better than others.

We’ve made two major moves with my children: from London to Madrid and then from Madrid to Paris.

During our first move, my son A had just turned 1 and didn’t realize much of what was happening. However this past year, our move was more significant as we left sunny Madrid and arrived in beautiful Paris.

As always, I’m sharing my personal experience, and I acknowledge that every child reacts differently.

My daughter C, who had just turned 9 months old, didn’t notice much. However, my sweet three-year-old had a tough time adjusting.

Now let me tell you about our journey.

In the summer of 2024, my husband received a job offer in Paris. Initially, we debated whether he should commute while I stayed in Madrid with the kids or if we should all pack our bags and go together. We ultimately decided that the best choice for our family was to move together.

The first item on my to-do list was finding a school for A, so I started contacting schools I was familiar with. Some had spaces, while others did not. I applied to my old school, assuming I would receive a spot right away. However, they took a long time to respond, and as the deadline approached, I worried that we wouldn’t secure a place for him. As a backup plan, I contacted an old school my older sister had attended and loved. Within a day, they scheduled a Zoom interview. Long story short, we received offers from both schools, but we ended up preferring the backup option. (But that’s a story for another time.)

Next, we looked for accommodation and decided to book an Airbnb for 2-3 months, got settled (a little bit) and really start flat hunting.

We arrived in Paris on August 24th and settled into our tiny Airbnb in the 16th arrondissement. Initially, all the changes were exciting; we were in Mama’s old neighbourhood, the weather was nice, and it felt a bit like a holiday. 

So, what could go wrong?

Well, come September, we faced the start of school. The first day went well; Mama and Baby C were allowed into the classroom to play. However, in the following days, while we could walk A to the classroom, we were not permitted to enter. By the second week, we had to leave the kids at the school gate for security reasons. There was a lot of crying over the next few months at the school dropoff; on some days, it took two adults to pull A into the school as he resisted, desperately wanting to stay with me. I began to wonder if this move was the right decision.

Additionally, the school was French-speaking, and A had no knowledge of the language. Although I tried to speak to him in French it felt so unnatural. 

It broke my heart to drop him off and see him so upset. Many times, I had tears streaming down my face. When I picked him up, he would say, “No quiero hablar” (I didn’t want to talk). The teacher told me that during class, he would take a long time to stop crying and move his chair in front of the window, waiting for me to return, which truly broke me.

He missed Madrid —his cousin, his old nursery, his previous life—and the tantrums and refusal to listen to my husband and me increased. We tried to remain calm with him, understanding that his world had been turned upside down, but it was sometimes hard to get him to cooperate with even simple tasks. I spoke to the paediatrician for advice, and they reassured me that his reactions were normal. Enrolling him in a French school was like making him deaf; he was struggling to express himself, and no one understood him.

During this challenging time, I started buying him a little gift every Friday to kick off the weekend and let him choose whatever food he wanted—so many pains au chocolat from Bechu!

Fortunately, we found a flat, signed the contract, and moved in on October 28th during the school holiday. When school resumed on November 4th, something had changed. He stopped crying and seemed much happier. I stopped buying him gifts and feeding him pastries. Every Wednesday I organise a play date with his friends and it’s amazing how well he now speaks French; even the teachers are impressed with his progress! 

Sure, he still doesn’t listen much to us, but it is improving. 

We have all grown a lot during this move but especially him. Now, he speaks Spanish to his father, French to his teachers, and English to me. Pretty remarkable for a three years ago.

From our experience, I believe children need stability, a place to call home and have all their toys/stuff. At least, that’s what my little boy needs.

I know it’s not been easy but I’m so very proud of him!

I would love to hear about your experiences moving with kids and how it went for you. (Send me your story and I’ll add it to the article: yogamamadiary@outlook.com) 

Sending peace and love