Before I had a child of my own, I always wondered how on earth you taught a kid to speak?
When I was in college, I took classes in linguistics, which included some fascinating lectures on child language acquisition or, basically, how children learn a language. A lot of really smart people have studied this, by the way, and it really is interesting to read about some of the empirical research. Questions such as how much language is innate, or pre-wired, into your brain are quite the brain puzzle because children tend to pick up language so quickly and follow the same general stages when learning a language, despite differences in the language they are learning and the amount of linguistic input they receive. (If you're interested in learning more, Google Noam Chomsky.)
Aaaanywhosit, the point of flouting my knowledge in 20th century linguistics is to underscore that it all made this child language thing seem very... overwhelming. From an intellectual perspective, I could understand what these folks were saying about the process but, from a practical "here I am with a kid who needs to learn to speak" perspective, my head would just spin with the very thought. Where to begin? What to teach first? How to communicate abstract concepts?
What I have discovered as a mother, however, is that Noam Chomsky had it right, although he made it sound much more complex in theory than it is in practice: kids learn to speak pretty much on their own.
Since March, when Daisy uttered her first non-Mommy/Daddy word - "Bubbye!" - it has been a non-stop onslaught of new words around here.
At first, it started to become obvious to us that Daisy understood an awful lot more words than her mouth could wrap itself around. You would ask her to go do something that you'd never really mentioned before, like "Lift your leg" or "Go find your shoes" and she would do it. Sure, I knew she understood "leg" and "shoes" but her ability to connect the dots within a sentence was quite astounding and it seemed it almost happened overnight.
Then, the words themselves started to accumulate. Car, shoes, no, cheese, toast, puppies, bubba, hi... once they started coming each successive one seemed to come along quicker than the next. And now, Missy is becoming quite the mimic, as Hubby are finding out to our chargrin.
Daisy uttered her first bad word in the car about a week ago, listening to Daddy on the phone. He said bullshit and, although he was too busy talking to notice it, I heard a little voice in the back repeat the last syllable ever-so-quietly. I gave him the wide-eyed "Don't cuss around the baby!" stare but he didn't quite catch-on. And, yes, my automatic response to this, by the way was almost "Shit!"
Then, this morning, Daddy was talking to Daisy, telling her something or other, when he stopped and surmised that she was probably thinking to herself "Blah, blah, blah, Daddy!" and that it wouldn't be long before that's exactly what she would be saying back to him. Well, he was right there. As she came running through the kitchen at full-pelt, Ms. Daisy yelled "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!" at the top of her voice.
Daisy's ever-growing vocabulary now includes: car, ta, hi, bubbye, bubba, binkie, Nanny, Gangan (for Grandad), Daddy, Mummy, Mimi (for Grammie), man, lady, Mickey (for Mickey Mouse), puppies, doggies, toast, please, cheese, pizza, keys, shoes, cat, no, nap, knee, nose, eyes, toes, berries, truck, digger, cat, dance, dindins, more, bowl, baby, down, back, door, juice, help, ball, and probably a bunch more I'm forgetting. Her latest little party trick is singing the first 3 words to the song "Row, row, row your boat..." Of course, they're the same 3 words repeated but she loves it when you catch-on and sing the rest of the song. When you stop, she leads you in again with "Rowwwwwww, rowwwwwwwww, rowwwwwwwww."
And yes, I'm boasting a little bit. I think she's the bees knees. Although that's not the point. My point is that this has all happened sort of on it's own. Sure, we talk to Daisy a lot but it's not like we're sitting down giving her reading or speaking lessons. It's all sort of pretty amazing really.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
POPSICLES!
A couple of weekends ago, we had some friends over for a barbecue and they brought with them some popsicles that their kids liked to eat. Usually Daisy doesn't show much interest in such things although, with her teething, we have definitely tried. Yesterday, however, as we were putting groceries away, Daisy grabbed one out of the freezer and begged us to open it for her.
Daisy asking for us to do something for her, by the way, now goes something like this: "Huppp Meeeeeeeeeee! Hupppp Meeeeeee!" over and over again, and with desperation, until you acquiesce or she gets mad at you, screams, and you acquiesce. (I'm trying to get her to add "peaaase" to this but with only sporadic success.)
Aaaanyway, we were busy and decided to chance letting her loose with the thing. It did enter into my head that a large popsicle with a 15 month old and two dogs who stick to her side like glue, might NOT be the best idea, but I'm a firm believer that you never know until you try. (Either that or I'm just stupid. Take your pick.)
Well, we tried. And this was the result...
One t-shirt later and we conceded that the popsicle had been a hit. However, the experiment didn't prove to be the parentally-freeing distraction we had hoped for, since I had to follow her around with a dish-towel, wiping up all the drips that she left on the floor in her wake.
As for the dogs, I think they got a couple of good licks in - off Daisy as well as the popsicle!
Daisy asking for us to do something for her, by the way, now goes something like this: "Huppp Meeeeeeeeeee! Hupppp Meeeeeee!" over and over again, and with desperation, until you acquiesce or she gets mad at you, screams, and you acquiesce. (I'm trying to get her to add "peaaase" to this but with only sporadic success.)
Aaaanyway, we were busy and decided to chance letting her loose with the thing. It did enter into my head that a large popsicle with a 15 month old and two dogs who stick to her side like glue, might NOT be the best idea, but I'm a firm believer that you never know until you try. (Either that or I'm just stupid. Take your pick.)
Well, we tried. And this was the result...
One t-shirt later and we conceded that the popsicle had been a hit. However, the experiment didn't prove to be the parentally-freeing distraction we had hoped for, since I had to follow her around with a dish-towel, wiping up all the drips that she left on the floor in her wake.
As for the dogs, I think they got a couple of good licks in - off Daisy as well as the popsicle!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Well, that explains it.
Miss Daisy is sick. We're not exactly sure which malady is to blame: teething (those back molars are fighting for air), delayed reaction to her 15 month shots (doc said it could take 5-21 days), or some kind of virus. However, all yesterday she was lolling around with her Nan in a state of half-awakeness, her temperature creeping up throughout the day until she had a full-on fever by early evening.
At 4:30am this morning, she woke up screaming and when we went in to comfort her, realized that the Advil had worn off and her temperature had spiked again. Ack! Fortunately, a mouthful of Cherry Flavored Ibuprofen, two books, and 50 minutes later, and she was safely back down in her cool crib, where she stayed until 8:30am this morning, when she woke up fever-free. Woot!
Anyway, this explains the previous post - irritability, whining, clingy-ness. Poor munch-bunch!
Monday, July 19, 2010
Oy vey!
Daisy has decided that both food and naps are optional while whining is de rigueur.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Parenting - does it make us happy?
Today I saw an article linked via Facebook from a friend and entitled "Why Parents Hate Parenting : All Joy and No Fun". Meanwhile, yesterday, on the plane ride home from L.A., I read an article on the myth of the only child.
Strangely, the two articles, although not related in title or, you would think, in subject, do touch on some of the same basic points: namely that parenting is hard work, that having more than one child (and certainly more than two) is either perceived as too hard to even attempt by some or, in retrospect, adversely impacting the enjoyability of life, by others. The articles both also touch upon the financial difficulties that American parents face, especially in comparison with their European counterparts who are blessed with a more compassionate welfare system, and how this impacts the experience of parenting in this country.
Let me begin by saying unequivocally that, by posting these links together, I am not passing judgment on couples who choose to have more than one child. That's not the choice I've made and it's not the reality I grew up with. Yet my husband, who I love and admire very much, is one of three, and all but two or three of my good friends have siblings, so clearly I know that great people come from both multi-child as well as single-child households. As such, this is NOT an attempt to turn my nose up at people who are making different choices from our family.
Yet, reading both of these articles in such close proximity to one another made me just a little sad. What has happened to us, to our lives, that the vast majority of parents actually view bringing up children as a chore that sucks the fun out life?
Not that parenting isn't hard work. Not that there aren't times of challenge, tedium, frustration, and extreme exhaustion. (Some days I want to throw the Thomas The Tank Engine book across the room rather than read it for the 900th time!) Not that there aren't moments when I mourn for the freedoms I had before I had Daisy; the ease with which I could do as I pleased both literally and financially. (Hey, I've been on one foreign vacation in two years and have seen less than 5 movies in the same time period - I get it!) But overall, if you asked me if I was less happy after having Daisy in my life, I would say: ABSOLUTELY NOT!
This weekend I was away in Los Angeles having a great time with a single, childless friend. We had a great time "tooling around", as she likes to say: going here, going there; sitting in the car for long periods without having to fish-out the binkie from some place it had been thrown in the back seat; being out all day without having to return home for naps (or sitting in the car with the engine and AC on, waiting for one to end); having fabulous conversations without interruption; lingering over lunch without having food thrown at us or hearing "done now" screamed at us; and getting home past a toddler's bedtime, sitting on the couch and blogging without having to worry about bath time or story time.
It sounds like bliss. And it was. For 72 hours. But I was happy to come home. My heart swelled to twice it's size when I turned the corner on my street at about 6:30 last night and saw Daisy "tooling around" in the front yard with Hubby, soaking wet from playing in the sprinklers, a big smile on her face as she saw "Mummiesssssss Caaaa" pull in. I could barely contain my fountain of wet kisses on her sweet-smelling little cheeks.
Maybe we all feel like that after being away from home for a while - that's why a change is as good as a rest - but the reality is that I feel like that about my daughter almost ALL the time. Certainly more than not. Maybe I am lucky in ways I can't even fathom. Definitely I have more help than most and more disposable income than some, so some of the day-to-day challenges that many parents experience, I am able to side-step (and happily.) I also have a healthy, happy daughter with no medical or developmental issues and a generally sunny disposition. Yep, I'll cop to it - I have little to moan about.
But life is not perfect. Even when she throws tantrums (or food) I am rarely able to get frustrated or upset with her. Even when she presents Thomas The Tank Engine for the 901st read, I find it endearing and can only feel gratitude that she likes books. Even when she knocks over my shredder bin and tosses tiny pieces of paper all over my office floor, I can only laugh with her because she's so frickin' happy doing it. In fact, the most frustrating part of parenthood for me is nothing to do with Daisy at all - it's my own physical limitations with my back and hip problems.
The fact that I have to worry about picking her up too much, or a certain way, getting her in-and-out of the car, holding her hand because of the poor posture it induces, sitting on the floor and reading a book because my tailbone starts to burn, or chasing her around too much because I can't walk for too long - those are the parental experiences that make me sad, frustrated, and mad. If those issues would just disappear, I could do it all with very little irritation. Sure, I'd still sigh and roll my eyes once in a while, or whine a little dramatically at her every now and again, but as it is now, I wouldn't really mean it.
Have there been time periods where I wanted to tear my hair out? Absolutely. Whenever she's sick it is just miserable for everyone. When you're sick too, the misery is more-than doubled. Will there be times in the future when I'll want to, theoretically, "murder" her? I'm sure there will be - I can think of more than one instance when I would have murdered ME as a kid. But, like my mother before me (and now, as she watches Daisy three-days a week), I enjoy every minute of the time I spend with her and don't begrudge a moment of it. I not only LOVE my little Missy, I like her a whole lot too. She's a heck of a lot more fun to be around than most adults I know; certainly she is more joyful and more interested in wnat I have to say.
Of course, it may be beside that point, that having a child makes you happy. It does appear, at least on the surface level, to be a little selfish to only have a child (or children) to increase your own personal happiness. Maybe our Oprah-generation is over-psychoanalyzing the experience of parenthood? Maybe, as a general rule, few people were ever really that happy having kids throughout history? I would imagine that, if we asked our grandparents why they had kids, their answer would have had very little to do with making themselves happy or happier. Biologically speaking, of course, we procreate to keep our race going, which has nothing at all to do with how we rate on the happiness meter. So, maybe it's our expectation that having children will make us happy (if we were not before) or happier (as if we felt something were still missing,) that ultimately sets us up for disappointment?
I know that, for me personally, I wasn't all that sure I would like parenting at all. In fact, I'd be so bold as to say that I was all-but convinced that I was foregoing all future joy in life (at least for 18 years) the moment I peed on that stick. Once upon a time, I would even have waved these same articles in front of Hubby and my family members' faces to make my case about why having kids probably wasn't for me at all . Perhaps it's the low expectations I brought to the table that left me pleasantly surprised? Who knows?
All I know for sure is that, sacrifices and all, I like being a parent. Although that doesn't appear to be the case for the majority of people surveyed or interviewed for these articles. I don't pretend to know, at least not definitively, why this is (although the articles themselves offer up many theories) but I'm happy to say it's not me. I hope it's not you too.
Strangely, the two articles, although not related in title or, you would think, in subject, do touch on some of the same basic points: namely that parenting is hard work, that having more than one child (and certainly more than two) is either perceived as too hard to even attempt by some or, in retrospect, adversely impacting the enjoyability of life, by others. The articles both also touch upon the financial difficulties that American parents face, especially in comparison with their European counterparts who are blessed with a more compassionate welfare system, and how this impacts the experience of parenting in this country.
Let me begin by saying unequivocally that, by posting these links together, I am not passing judgment on couples who choose to have more than one child. That's not the choice I've made and it's not the reality I grew up with. Yet my husband, who I love and admire very much, is one of three, and all but two or three of my good friends have siblings, so clearly I know that great people come from both multi-child as well as single-child households. As such, this is NOT an attempt to turn my nose up at people who are making different choices from our family.
Yet, reading both of these articles in such close proximity to one another made me just a little sad. What has happened to us, to our lives, that the vast majority of parents actually view bringing up children as a chore that sucks the fun out life?
Not that parenting isn't hard work. Not that there aren't times of challenge, tedium, frustration, and extreme exhaustion. (Some days I want to throw the Thomas The Tank Engine book across the room rather than read it for the 900th time!) Not that there aren't moments when I mourn for the freedoms I had before I had Daisy; the ease with which I could do as I pleased both literally and financially. (Hey, I've been on one foreign vacation in two years and have seen less than 5 movies in the same time period - I get it!) But overall, if you asked me if I was less happy after having Daisy in my life, I would say: ABSOLUTELY NOT!
This weekend I was away in Los Angeles having a great time with a single, childless friend. We had a great time "tooling around", as she likes to say: going here, going there; sitting in the car for long periods without having to fish-out the binkie from some place it had been thrown in the back seat; being out all day without having to return home for naps (or sitting in the car with the engine and AC on, waiting for one to end); having fabulous conversations without interruption; lingering over lunch without having food thrown at us or hearing "done now" screamed at us; and getting home past a toddler's bedtime, sitting on the couch and blogging without having to worry about bath time or story time.
It sounds like bliss. And it was. For 72 hours. But I was happy to come home. My heart swelled to twice it's size when I turned the corner on my street at about 6:30 last night and saw Daisy "tooling around" in the front yard with Hubby, soaking wet from playing in the sprinklers, a big smile on her face as she saw "Mummiesssssss Caaaa" pull in. I could barely contain my fountain of wet kisses on her sweet-smelling little cheeks.
Maybe we all feel like that after being away from home for a while - that's why a change is as good as a rest - but the reality is that I feel like that about my daughter almost ALL the time. Certainly more than not. Maybe I am lucky in ways I can't even fathom. Definitely I have more help than most and more disposable income than some, so some of the day-to-day challenges that many parents experience, I am able to side-step (and happily.) I also have a healthy, happy daughter with no medical or developmental issues and a generally sunny disposition. Yep, I'll cop to it - I have little to moan about.
But life is not perfect. Even when she throws tantrums (or food) I am rarely able to get frustrated or upset with her. Even when she presents Thomas The Tank Engine for the 901st read, I find it endearing and can only feel gratitude that she likes books. Even when she knocks over my shredder bin and tosses tiny pieces of paper all over my office floor, I can only laugh with her because she's so frickin' happy doing it. In fact, the most frustrating part of parenthood for me is nothing to do with Daisy at all - it's my own physical limitations with my back and hip problems.
The fact that I have to worry about picking her up too much, or a certain way, getting her in-and-out of the car, holding her hand because of the poor posture it induces, sitting on the floor and reading a book because my tailbone starts to burn, or chasing her around too much because I can't walk for too long - those are the parental experiences that make me sad, frustrated, and mad. If those issues would just disappear, I could do it all with very little irritation. Sure, I'd still sigh and roll my eyes once in a while, or whine a little dramatically at her every now and again, but as it is now, I wouldn't really mean it.
Have there been time periods where I wanted to tear my hair out? Absolutely. Whenever she's sick it is just miserable for everyone. When you're sick too, the misery is more-than doubled. Will there be times in the future when I'll want to, theoretically, "murder" her? I'm sure there will be - I can think of more than one instance when I would have murdered ME as a kid. But, like my mother before me (and now, as she watches Daisy three-days a week), I enjoy every minute of the time I spend with her and don't begrudge a moment of it. I not only LOVE my little Missy, I like her a whole lot too. She's a heck of a lot more fun to be around than most adults I know; certainly she is more joyful and more interested in wnat I have to say.
Of course, it may be beside that point, that having a child makes you happy. It does appear, at least on the surface level, to be a little selfish to only have a child (or children) to increase your own personal happiness. Maybe our Oprah-generation is over-psychoanalyzing the experience of parenthood? Maybe, as a general rule, few people were ever really that happy having kids throughout history? I would imagine that, if we asked our grandparents why they had kids, their answer would have had very little to do with making themselves happy or happier. Biologically speaking, of course, we procreate to keep our race going, which has nothing at all to do with how we rate on the happiness meter. So, maybe it's our expectation that having children will make us happy (if we were not before) or happier (as if we felt something were still missing,) that ultimately sets us up for disappointment?
I know that, for me personally, I wasn't all that sure I would like parenting at all. In fact, I'd be so bold as to say that I was all-but convinced that I was foregoing all future joy in life (at least for 18 years) the moment I peed on that stick. Once upon a time, I would even have waved these same articles in front of Hubby and my family members' faces to make my case about why having kids probably wasn't for me at all . Perhaps it's the low expectations I brought to the table that left me pleasantly surprised? Who knows?
All I know for sure is that, sacrifices and all, I like being a parent. Although that doesn't appear to be the case for the majority of people surveyed or interviewed for these articles. I don't pretend to know, at least not definitively, why this is (although the articles themselves offer up many theories) but I'm happy to say it's not me. I hope it's not you too.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
BANG!
Since last year Ms. Daisy was but a ball of cuteness, I'm counting this year as Daisy's first 4th of July.
Unfortunately, July 4ths don't seem to be "our" holiday these days. Last year we came home from a bbq at Grammie's in Foresthill and Daisy had the worst meltown still on record - uncontrollable and inconsolable fits of crying. We bought $75 of no-bang fireworks for the front yard but never used them. I think, what with the parade and all the people, it was stimulation overdrive for her.
Well, not so this year. In fact, it was the complete opposite for most of the day. Almost every plan we made for the holiday weekend fell through at the last minute and so we were left doing pretty much what we always do on a Sunday - vacuuming, cleaning floors, grocery shopping and the like. I know, BOOORING. It won't happen again next year, that's for sure.
Daisy began her 4th reading the Sunday paper... well, in reality it was the ads. Probably looking to see what other delights her mother can spend her money on!
And so we skip to the evening, when, after a late-afternoon/early evening nap, we decided to try and liven-up the day at least a little bit by putting to use those fireworks and sparklers from last year.
Although it was almost 9pm, and an hour after her bedtime, by the time we were done, Daisy was still hanging in there and so we decided to head to a local fireworks display.
Look at them blues!
(Wish someone - ahem - had told me my bra was on full display. Sorry for the TMI, folks!)
Missy did great, barely jumping with all the mega-banging. She even learned a new work - "bang", of course. However, her attention waned after the first ten minutes or so when the noise became old-hat. This was the point at which Daddy returned to his usual role of chasing Missy around. Even at 10pm, she is one big ball of energy! We stayed until the end but mostly because I wanted to see the finale, and returned home to a neighborhood that was still popping-off until gone midnight. Fortunately, the dogs were at Nan and Grandad's house and we were all so tired we slept through it all.
Couldn't close-out the post without a couple of other honorable mentions from the weekend, however:
1) This is the house that Grandad built.
And yes, it does say "Daisy" above the door, as well as having a postal address all it's own - 5145 "B". My parents have a flair for overdoing it... in a good way, of course!
2) Garage Sale Success
On our Saturday morning walk, we came across a great garage sale with lots of barely-used toys.
For $15 we snagged all of this!
Unfortunately, July 4ths don't seem to be "our" holiday these days. Last year we came home from a bbq at Grammie's in Foresthill and Daisy had the worst meltown still on record - uncontrollable and inconsolable fits of crying. We bought $75 of no-bang fireworks for the front yard but never used them. I think, what with the parade and all the people, it was stimulation overdrive for her.
Well, not so this year. In fact, it was the complete opposite for most of the day. Almost every plan we made for the holiday weekend fell through at the last minute and so we were left doing pretty much what we always do on a Sunday - vacuuming, cleaning floors, grocery shopping and the like. I know, BOOORING. It won't happen again next year, that's for sure.
Daisy began her 4th reading the Sunday paper... well, in reality it was the ads. Probably looking to see what other delights her mother can spend her money on!
And so we skip to the evening, when, after a late-afternoon/early evening nap, we decided to try and liven-up the day at least a little bit by putting to use those fireworks and sparklers from last year.
Although it was almost 9pm, and an hour after her bedtime, by the time we were done, Daisy was still hanging in there and so we decided to head to a local fireworks display.
Look at them blues!
(Wish someone - ahem - had told me my bra was on full display. Sorry for the TMI, folks!)
Missy did great, barely jumping with all the mega-banging. She even learned a new work - "bang", of course. However, her attention waned after the first ten minutes or so when the noise became old-hat. This was the point at which Daddy returned to his usual role of chasing Missy around. Even at 10pm, she is one big ball of energy! We stayed until the end but mostly because I wanted to see the finale, and returned home to a neighborhood that was still popping-off until gone midnight. Fortunately, the dogs were at Nan and Grandad's house and we were all so tired we slept through it all.
Couldn't close-out the post without a couple of other honorable mentions from the weekend, however:
1) This is the house that Grandad built.
And yes, it does say "Daisy" above the door, as well as having a postal address all it's own - 5145 "B". My parents have a flair for overdoing it... in a good way, of course!
2) Garage Sale Success
On our Saturday morning walk, we came across a great garage sale with lots of barely-used toys.
For $15 we snagged all of this!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)