...and talking and talking...
Lucy is full of words. A few favorite gems from this weeks:
"Cheese is for yummy."
"We be careful with aliens."
"Want to see the thunder."
"Want to color, thunder? Here's some blue!"
"You want to have some mama milk, Elmo?" (how nice...she's offering my boob to ELMO)
Lucy: (loud fart) Someone has a toot!
Me: Someone has a toot? Who?
Lucy: LUCY! (pause, then very quietly) And a poop, too.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Baziza the Butterfly
Lucy and I went to Brookside Gardens yesterday. It was a relatively pleasant afternoon and Lucy loves to go in and out of the "teeny little house" they have in the children's garden there.
So we are walking through the garden and Lucy comes across a little teething toy shaped like a butterfly. She was very excited. I said "Someone lost a toy." She said "He is SAD." I said, "Maybe. We should leave here in case they come back for it." Lucy apparently ignored me and picked it up and put it in her pocket, because 10 minutes later and about 200 yards from where we found it, there was the butterfly toy still in her hand.
Okay, whatever.
In the car on the way home, she starts saying the same word over and over. It sounds like "baziza". I don't know if she was trying to repeat something I had mentioned earlier (a flower name?) or what. So I asked her what she was saying. "BAZIZA! Butterfly is named BAZIZA!"
Huh. Where'd she come up with THAT one?
Then she goes on. I will attempt a verbatim recreation of our conversation.
Lucy: Butterfly is name Baziza.
Me: Baziza?
Lucy: Yeah. Someone is sad.
Me: Who is sad?
Lucy: Carlos!
Me: Um...who's Carlos?
Lucy: The boy and BAZIZA!
Me: The boy?
Lucy: Someone is sad he lost a toy Baziza butterfly. Name is CARLOS.
Me: The boy who lost the toy is named Carlos?
Lucy: Yeah.
Me: ...
Lucy: He sad. Make him feel better. (loud kissing noise from the back seat). There ya go, Baziza. There ya go. Feel better. Awww. (little pat pat pat sounds from the back seat. Apparently she is hugging the butterfly).
I have no idea where any of that came from.
So we are walking through the garden and Lucy comes across a little teething toy shaped like a butterfly. She was very excited. I said "Someone lost a toy." She said "He is SAD." I said, "Maybe. We should leave here in case they come back for it." Lucy apparently ignored me and picked it up and put it in her pocket, because 10 minutes later and about 200 yards from where we found it, there was the butterfly toy still in her hand.
 |
| You can see there Baziza in her hand. |
In the car on the way home, she starts saying the same word over and over. It sounds like "baziza". I don't know if she was trying to repeat something I had mentioned earlier (a flower name?) or what. So I asked her what she was saying. "BAZIZA! Butterfly is named BAZIZA!"
Huh. Where'd she come up with THAT one?
Then she goes on. I will attempt a verbatim recreation of our conversation.
Lucy: Butterfly is name Baziza.
Me: Baziza?
Lucy: Yeah. Someone is sad.
Me: Who is sad?
Lucy: Carlos!
Me: Um...who's Carlos?
Lucy: The boy and BAZIZA!
Me: The boy?
Lucy: Someone is sad he lost a toy Baziza butterfly. Name is CARLOS.
Me: The boy who lost the toy is named Carlos?
Lucy: Yeah.
Me: ...
Lucy: He sad. Make him feel better. (loud kissing noise from the back seat). There ya go, Baziza. There ya go. Feel better. Awww. (little pat pat pat sounds from the back seat. Apparently she is hugging the butterfly).
I have no idea where any of that came from.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Inherent Risks
I had a very interesting conversation today with a family member. He has been having an abdominal aortic aneurysm monitored for several months. Thank goodness his most recent evaluation showed that it had stabilized and hadn't gotten any bigger since his last exam. He was telling me how he thought he needed to find a new surgeon since the guy he was with was pushing an angioplasty on him, which apparently would have done nothing for the aneurysm. His doctor said they could check it all out and place stents in if they found any plaque as a preventative measure. The aneurysm being the main concern, he declined the angioplasty, since any surgery carries with it inherent risks. If it wasn't going to help the aneurysm, he would just as soon not do anything that might lead to further complications. Since the aneurysm doesn't yet measure 5 cm (the threshold where they start to really consider the risk of rupture and the need to do surgery), he wanted to continue to monitor it closely instead of do anything of dubious value. Apparently, angioplasty is a cash cow for heart doctors. They can make like $10,000 in one 20 minute procedure, so some tend to push it on patients whether or not is is medically indicated. He was telling me of one case where a patient needed open heart surgery, but they couldn't do it because of all the metal stents he had in his blood vessels from several previous angioplasties. Oops. (Now, please understand I have none of this as first hand knowledge, just what my family member was telling me today, but this family member has a vested interest in getting his research from credible sources since his life literally depends upon it).
He then went on to tell me of his distrust of doctors in general and how he only goes if he has tried everything else and it still isn't working. So when he goes to a doctor, there is a good reason and he wants help, not more watchful waiting. So I said, as an off-hand comment, "And that is exactly why I have my babies at home". He sort of chuckled and said "Well, what you're doing carries some serious risks". I said "You are walking around with an abdominal aortic aneurysm. That is neither normal nor healthy! You just said there is a risk of it rupturing and you bleeding out in a matter of minutes. I am having a baby - which is both normal and healthy. How is what I am doing any more risky that what you are doing?" He didn't really have an answer to that. Looking back at it, I am slightly offended that his research and ultimate decision not to subject himself to unnecessary procedures - on a decidedly unhealthy condition - was somehow more valid than my research and similar decision, for a perfectly normal and healthy condition. **Le sigh** He has never made any negative comments to me previously about my decision to have my babies at home, and didn't even really make a negative comment this time. He has been respectful of my choice. Or perhaps he has just been silent - but that is good enough. But it is interesting to see a little window into his thoughts on the matter.
On the car ride home, I was thinking - and of course I am speaking in the grossest of general terms - that OBs are trained as surgeons and in the pathology of pregnancy. They rarely see normal, natural births. My pregnancy is healthy. I am healthy. I don't want to be operated on. Why would I go to an OB? My midwives are trained in normal pregnancy and childbirth. They see it every day. So if something is deviating, they know it and make sure the I see a doctor. Why would I take my normal, healthy pregnancy to a place for sick people (the hospital) where it is the standard care to hooked up to an IV and monitored so closely that you can even move around? Where I can't be sure if they are intervening in the process because it is necessary or because it is more convenient or because it is "standard procedure"? Why would I subject myself to procedures that carry with them dubious value for a healthy woman within the normal process of labor and also the risk of possible complications? It seems to me it is the exact same decision that my family member made regarding his heart, but for some reason when I make it about my pregnancy and baby's birth, it is suddenly unwise and unsafe. All medical procedures carry with them the risk of complications. I am choosing not to subject myself to them. If it is absolutely necessary, I am happy to go to the hospital, happy to strapped and poked and monitored and even operated on. If it is absolutely necessary. But until then, you can find me at home.
He then went on to tell me of his distrust of doctors in general and how he only goes if he has tried everything else and it still isn't working. So when he goes to a doctor, there is a good reason and he wants help, not more watchful waiting. So I said, as an off-hand comment, "And that is exactly why I have my babies at home". He sort of chuckled and said "Well, what you're doing carries some serious risks". I said "You are walking around with an abdominal aortic aneurysm. That is neither normal nor healthy! You just said there is a risk of it rupturing and you bleeding out in a matter of minutes. I am having a baby - which is both normal and healthy. How is what I am doing any more risky that what you are doing?" He didn't really have an answer to that. Looking back at it, I am slightly offended that his research and ultimate decision not to subject himself to unnecessary procedures - on a decidedly unhealthy condition - was somehow more valid than my research and similar decision, for a perfectly normal and healthy condition. **Le sigh** He has never made any negative comments to me previously about my decision to have my babies at home, and didn't even really make a negative comment this time. He has been respectful of my choice. Or perhaps he has just been silent - but that is good enough. But it is interesting to see a little window into his thoughts on the matter.
On the car ride home, I was thinking - and of course I am speaking in the grossest of general terms - that OBs are trained as surgeons and in the pathology of pregnancy. They rarely see normal, natural births. My pregnancy is healthy. I am healthy. I don't want to be operated on. Why would I go to an OB? My midwives are trained in normal pregnancy and childbirth. They see it every day. So if something is deviating, they know it and make sure the I see a doctor. Why would I take my normal, healthy pregnancy to a place for sick people (the hospital) where it is the standard care to hooked up to an IV and monitored so closely that you can even move around? Where I can't be sure if they are intervening in the process because it is necessary or because it is more convenient or because it is "standard procedure"? Why would I subject myself to procedures that carry with them dubious value for a healthy woman within the normal process of labor and also the risk of possible complications? It seems to me it is the exact same decision that my family member made regarding his heart, but for some reason when I make it about my pregnancy and baby's birth, it is suddenly unwise and unsafe. All medical procedures carry with them the risk of complications. I am choosing not to subject myself to them. If it is absolutely necessary, I am happy to go to the hospital, happy to strapped and poked and monitored and even operated on. If it is absolutely necessary. But until then, you can find me at home.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Hypnobabies, Home Birth and Naysayers
What is it with people who insist on telling first-time moms horror stories about birth? Seriously? I know people want to tell their stories. This is how we connect - and the urge to connect and share is especially strong in mothers because birth is such a life-changing experience. But the seed of fear is insidious and it can grow out of control. Most of us are afraid of childbirth to begin with, and fear only exacerbates pain because you literally cannot relax if you are afraid. It defeats the purpose of the fear in the first place. You are supposed to be tense if you are frightened - that is how we survived as a species (Eh, there's a tiger coming to eat us. I'm awfully scared, but I feel so RELAXED! I'll get around to running in a minute). However, tension and fear are completely counterproductive to helping the body open in childbirth. And birth is not something to fear! It is something to relish and enjoy and triumph in! Yes, it is intense. Yes, there is an incredible amount of power surging through your body while you birth. And yes, it is probably the most challenging thing you will ever require of your body. But it isn't scary if you allow the power instead of fight it. And if you allow yourself (and train yourself) to think differently, it doesn't have to be painful. Really and truly. The human mind is incredibly powerful, and it controls the body. THE MIND CONTROLS THE BODY. Many wise people (including a certain Jewish carpenter) have said "As you believe, so shall you be". Think about that. As you believe, SO SHALL YOU BE. Want something different in your experience? Believe something different about your experience. That is what I learned from my daughter's birth. I didn't want it to be painful or traumatic or scary. I taught myself to believe that it wouldn't be. And it wasn't. Now
it wasn't a cakewalk, either, but it was peaceful and generally comfortable and pretty damn easy all things considered, especially in comparison to all those running-down-the-hallway screaming-type births that they insist on showing you in TV. It was beautiful, and I can't wait to do it again! I am not in denial, either. I know things go wrong at births. You hear about it all the time. But that is why I have wonderful 2 midwives that I completely trust to tell me if something is amiss. That is their job. To make sure my baby is born safely. If something looks like it is heading in a worriesome direction, they will say, "Hey, Jenny, let's take this to the hospital to have a doctor check things out". And because I trust their judgement, I will say "You know, if you think it is a good idea, let's go". The goal for everyone is a healthy baby and a safe birth - not simply a home birth.
 |
| 29 weeks |
As I drag my gorgeous, luminous, beautiful (read:ballooning) body closer to my baby's ETA, I am starting to look forward to my second home birth. When I was pregnant with Lucy, a lot of people looked at me funny when I told them I was having my baby at home. They also looked at me funny when I said that I was planning a peaceful, comfortable birth with my Hypnobabies training. A few helpful people even laughed at me. Outright LAUGHED at my choice to birth differently than most people will tell you is possible. Ummm...thanks for your support...? When I told a friend of mine I was birthing at home she said, "I might have done that with my SECOND baby. But never with my FIRST. You just never know what could HAPPEN!" Then I said I was doing Hypnobabies (which is, incidentally medical hypnoanesthesia - the technique they teach to people who have life-threatening allergies to anesthesia but require major medical procedures), and that I was training my mind to feel the contractions as waves of pressure rather than pain. I said I was fully expecting a pleasant, comfortable birth experience. She raised her eyebrows with an "isn't she cute?" smirk on her face and said "Whatever! Good luck with that!" And again...thanks for your support!
What is it with people who insist on telling first-time moms horror stories about birth? Seriously? I know people want to tell their stories. This is how we connect - and the urge to connect and share is especially strong in mothers because birth is such a life-changing experience. But the seed of fear is insidious and it can grow out of control. Most of us are afraid of childbirth to begin with, and fear only exacerbates pain because you literally cannot relax if you are afraid. It defeats the purpose of the fear in the first place. You are supposed to be tense if you are frightened - that is how we survived as a species (Eh, there's a tiger coming to eat us. I'm awfully scared, but I feel so RELAXED! I'll get around to running in a minute). However, tension and fear are completely counterproductive to helping the body open in childbirth. And birth is not something to fear! It is something to relish and enjoy and triumph in! Yes, it is intense. Yes, there is an incredible amount of power surging through your body while you birth. And yes, it is probably the most challenging thing you will ever require of your body. But it isn't scary if you allow the power instead of fight it. And if you allow yourself (and train yourself) to think differently, it doesn't have to be painful. Really and truly. The human mind is incredibly powerful, and it controls the body. THE MIND CONTROLS THE BODY. Many wise people (including a certain Jewish carpenter) have said "As you believe, so shall you be". Think about that. As you believe, SO SHALL YOU BE. Want something different in your experience? Believe something different about your experience. That is what I learned from my daughter's birth. I didn't want it to be painful or traumatic or scary. I taught myself to believe that it wouldn't be. And it wasn't. Now
it wasn't a cakewalk, either, but it was peaceful and generally comfortable and pretty damn easy all things considered, especially in comparison to all those running-down-the-hallway screaming-type births that they insist on showing you in TV. It was beautiful, and I can't wait to do it again! I am not in denial, either. I know things go wrong at births. You hear about it all the time. But that is why I have wonderful 2 midwives that I completely trust to tell me if something is amiss. That is their job. To make sure my baby is born safely. If something looks like it is heading in a worriesome direction, they will say, "Hey, Jenny, let's take this to the hospital to have a doctor check things out". And because I trust their judgement, I will say "You know, if you think it is a good idea, let's go". The goal for everyone is a healthy baby and a safe birth - not simply a home birth.And on that note, here's another thing that drives me nuts. Why can't people just let women birth their babies where ever the hell they want to? Why all the hullaballoo about home birth? Women aren't stupid. Home birthers are not choosing the "experience" of birth over the safety of their child. People who believe that are idiots, plain and simple. What do they think we are telling ourselves? "The experience at home is so nice that I don't care if my baby dies"? What kind of jackass says that? The fact is, the research is there (and this link is just the tip of the iceberg). All the credible research shows that PLANNED home birth with a trained professional birth attendant - for low-risk, healthy mothers - is as safe, if not safer than birthing in a hospital. So quit telling me that I am irresponsible, irrational, foolish, or even dangerously putting my baby's life at risk and give me easier access to those trained professionals! Good lord. And while you're at it, can you please tell my insurance company to reimburse me for my low-tech, low-cost home birth? "Low-cost" should be a HUGE selling point to insurance companies on home birth. But certainly, we here in the US don't need to tweak our system at all. Our maternity stats are some of the best in the world, right? We have lower costs, lower maternal death rates, lower c-section rates, lower neonatal morbidity and mortality rates than the entire civilized world, right? Why change ANYTHING in our sleek as a shark, completely efficient, evidence-based healthcare system? Oh...wait...I was hallucinating again...
So...yeah. That was a rant. Sorry.
So I am planning a second home birth. A second Hypnobabies birth. I am very excited about it. Lucy was born in the water, and I am starting to imagine Muffin being born there, too. I am starting to imagine holding him for the first time in the quiet dark of the middle of the night. I am starting to imagine crawling into my own bed with my husband and my sweet little girl and my new baby boy - my beautiful family completed. I am starting to get impatient to meet him and see who he will be.
Ten more weeks.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Third Trimester, Here I COME!
I had intended to do a better job documenting this pregnancy. Something seems to have prevented me from being as active a blogger as I would like to be these days...I am not naming any names, but she's short, blonde, cute and her name rhymes wth Goosey.
Anyway, this past Sunday, I crossed the magical divide into the third trimester of my second (and what I hope to be final) pregnancy. Only 11 weeks and some change to go! Some people say they coast through the second trimester, barely noticing they are pregnant at all. This has not been my experience. I thought I would LOVE being pregnant. I really thought my body was built for it. I come from a long line of women who popped out babies on an annual or biannual basis. (** side note ** I had to look up "biannual" since I am never sure which one means once every 2 years and which means twice a year. Interestingly enough, "biannual" can mean either. And my mom and great grandmother both had twins, so it applies in either case). The problem I seem to have is that I have super flexible hips to begin with, and pregnancy relaxin just makes them SO flexible that it hurts. All those years of yoga...and I wish I were less flexible...
Anyway, I started to feel this pregnancy a lot faster than my first one. I guess it is because I got so much bigger so much faster this time. I sweat, at 25 weeks I was as big as I was at 30 week with Lucy. And I have the pictures to prove it! In my community care group (all the mamas in my midwives' practice that are giving birth in October meet once a month for these group prenatal visits), I am by far the largest belly there. Now, granted, I am one of the earliest due dates in the group and most of the ther mamas are first-time moms (it makes me really happy that so many first-time mamas are choosing hom birth!!!), but at the last meeting, I was seriously out-bellying every lady there, even the one due a week before me. I guess after you get everything all stretched out once, your body knows where to go.
Speaking of all stretched out...if I call my stretch marks "racing stripes" do you think it will make them seem less tragic? I was always so proud of my flat tummy. Even if I was out of shape everywhere else, my tummy was always flat as a board. Now I fear my abused abs will be covered by baggy, stretched out skin. It was already a little droopy after Lucy was born. I can only imagine the damage being done now by what feels to be the gargantu-baby currently populating my uterus. Is the fact that my two children can't even share stretch marks a bad omen for how they'll get along later in life (you know, when they are both extra-utero)? I mean, there was already a perfectly respectable (and well-hidden) crop of racing stripes covering the skin between my hips, but very sensibly not peaking up over the top of a bikini. Now they are creeping up to belly button level and I am getting mad.
They have managed to share pelvic girdle pain. Thank you, kids. When Lucy was born, she had her chin tilted up and her hand on her cheek. This is not the most efficient manner to enter the world, and I felt like my legs were going to fall off when I walked too much for a few weeks after Lucy made her appearance. They popped and swayed awful lot more after that epic birth. My hips will never be the same. And to prove it, I started feeling the same loosey-goosey hip feeling almost immediately after I got pregnant with the muffin man. Now I am worried about my legs falling off before I even give birth. I swear, my pubic bone is popping. This is a really unnerving feeling. I understand that the popping sound you hear in joints (think knuckles cracking or knees popping without any pain) is usually synovial fluid forming bubble and then bursting, thus getting the popping sound. In your hips, it is often the result of your iliotibal band or iliopsoas, rubbing over a bone. So what is it when your pubic bone pops? There is no joint there, in the traditional sense. The only time it supposed to move at all is when you are giving birth. So what is that hrrible sound I hear eminating from my front pelvis when I get out of bed the wrong way? Ugh. I do not know. I am not sure I want to, either. I DO know that if this baby gets too much bigger, I am going to be sitting on his head rather than on my ischial tuberosities. That is my favorite anatomical term. That and phalanges.
Things that help with sacroiliac joint pain:
Getting out of the car with two feet at a time
Not standing on one leg (this is tough, since I teach yoga)
Tightening up the abs and pelvic floor muscles when rolling over in bed
Avoiding breast stroke-style kicks while swimming
Sitting with knees together (HA!)
Sitting on a birth ball
Keeping pelvis tucked under and pelvic floor muscles engaged while standing or walking
Anyway, other than that, the second trimester was lovely. All things considered, I am feeling really well. Now onto the third! 11 weeks and 4 days to go!
Before I go, I would like to clarify...I don't HATE being pregnant. I LOVE the feeling of a little life growing inside me. I love the mystery of what he will look like, who he will be, how the birth will go...obviously I don't love mystery enough to wait to find out the gender, but gender is only one aspect of this completely unknown creature my body is building. It is just astounding on every level that I am MAKING another human being. FROM SCRATCH! I don't even make CAKE from scratch! The human body is such an amazing machine. So, I don't get morning sickness. I don't generally get heartburn. I don't get vericose veins or swollen ankles. I weather the pretty incredible changes of pregnancy very well, considering how active my job is and how demanding it is to have a toddler and grow a baby at the same time. I don't have much to complain about. It just hurts in my hips. Too bad you need them to walk.
 |
| 28 week belly! |
Anyway, I started to feel this pregnancy a lot faster than my first one. I guess it is because I got so much bigger so much faster this time. I sweat, at 25 weeks I was as big as I was at 30 week with Lucy. And I have the pictures to prove it! In my community care group (all the mamas in my midwives' practice that are giving birth in October meet once a month for these group prenatal visits), I am by far the largest belly there. Now, granted, I am one of the earliest due dates in the group and most of the ther mamas are first-time moms (it makes me really happy that so many first-time mamas are choosing hom birth!!!), but at the last meeting, I was seriously out-bellying every lady there, even the one due a week before me. I guess after you get everything all stretched out once, your body knows where to go.
Speaking of all stretched out...if I call my stretch marks "racing stripes" do you think it will make them seem less tragic? I was always so proud of my flat tummy. Even if I was out of shape everywhere else, my tummy was always flat as a board. Now I fear my abused abs will be covered by baggy, stretched out skin. It was already a little droopy after Lucy was born. I can only imagine the damage being done now by what feels to be the gargantu-baby currently populating my uterus. Is the fact that my two children can't even share stretch marks a bad omen for how they'll get along later in life (you know, when they are both extra-utero)? I mean, there was already a perfectly respectable (and well-hidden) crop of racing stripes covering the skin between my hips, but very sensibly not peaking up over the top of a bikini. Now they are creeping up to belly button level and I am getting mad.
They have managed to share pelvic girdle pain. Thank you, kids. When Lucy was born, she had her chin tilted up and her hand on her cheek. This is not the most efficient manner to enter the world, and I felt like my legs were going to fall off when I walked too much for a few weeks after Lucy made her appearance. They popped and swayed awful lot more after that epic birth. My hips will never be the same. And to prove it, I started feeling the same loosey-goosey hip feeling almost immediately after I got pregnant with the muffin man. Now I am worried about my legs falling off before I even give birth. I swear, my pubic bone is popping. This is a really unnerving feeling. I understand that the popping sound you hear in joints (think knuckles cracking or knees popping without any pain) is usually synovial fluid forming bubble and then bursting, thus getting the popping sound. In your hips, it is often the result of your iliotibal band or iliopsoas, rubbing over a bone. So what is it when your pubic bone pops? There is no joint there, in the traditional sense. The only time it supposed to move at all is when you are giving birth. So what is that hrrible sound I hear eminating from my front pelvis when I get out of bed the wrong way? Ugh. I do not know. I am not sure I want to, either. I DO know that if this baby gets too much bigger, I am going to be sitting on his head rather than on my ischial tuberosities. That is my favorite anatomical term. That and phalanges.
Things that help with sacroiliac joint pain:
Getting out of the car with two feet at a time
Not standing on one leg (this is tough, since I teach yoga)
Tightening up the abs and pelvic floor muscles when rolling over in bed
Avoiding breast stroke-style kicks while swimming
Sitting with knees together (HA!)
Sitting on a birth ball
Keeping pelvis tucked under and pelvic floor muscles engaged while standing or walking
Anyway, other than that, the second trimester was lovely. All things considered, I am feeling really well. Now onto the third! 11 weeks and 4 days to go!
Before I go, I would like to clarify...I don't HATE being pregnant. I LOVE the feeling of a little life growing inside me. I love the mystery of what he will look like, who he will be, how the birth will go...obviously I don't love mystery enough to wait to find out the gender, but gender is only one aspect of this completely unknown creature my body is building. It is just astounding on every level that I am MAKING another human being. FROM SCRATCH! I don't even make CAKE from scratch! The human body is such an amazing machine. So, I don't get morning sickness. I don't generally get heartburn. I don't get vericose veins or swollen ankles. I weather the pretty incredible changes of pregnancy very well, considering how active my job is and how demanding it is to have a toddler and grow a baby at the same time. I don't have much to complain about. It just hurts in my hips. Too bad you need them to walk.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Boys vs. Girls
Last month, we found out we were having a BOY! Woweee. I was (and to some extent still am) totally floored by this turn of events. I am not sure why, but I REALLY was convinced we were having another girl. I grew up in a house full of girls. I have a daughter - not to mention a full 2 years worth of adorable, sweet, barely worn girlie clothes that will now never be worn in this house again (unless we decide to just put the baby in girl clothes...who would even notice? Newborns all look alike anyway). I don't know what to do with a boy. Seriously. What do you do with a boy?
I am a little sad Lucy won't have a sister. I am still getting over this, actually. I remember a friend of mine was pregnant with her second and when they found out it was another boy, she felt like she was in mourning, since she really REALLY wanted a daughter. I sort of regret finding out the gender, because after all the work of getting a baby out, I imagine would instantly fall in love with whatever was thrust into my arms. Or at least instantly fall into relief at being done with the whole process of pregnancy and birth. But there was always that little niggling fear that the first thought I would have as I discovered the gender was "oh, I wish it were another girl." (sort of like the dream I had that I gave birth to a cat - my first thought in the dream was "Oh, I was hoping for another baby...") That is not that first thought I wanted to have about my child.
So I am letting it grow on me. Boy. Son. Little BOY. Baby boy. Little brother. Be nice to your brother. Boy. Boy. Boy. Boy. My son. Sweet baby boy. Can you call a little boy pumpkin? Or is that a girl nickname? What about sweet potato pie? Probably not princess...I'll have to come up with a whole new arsenal of pet names. And I'll have to worry about him peeing in my face.
He's awfully cute though, isn't he?
I am a little sad Lucy won't have a sister. I am still getting over this, actually. I remember a friend of mine was pregnant with her second and when they found out it was another boy, she felt like she was in mourning, since she really REALLY wanted a daughter. I sort of regret finding out the gender, because after all the work of getting a baby out, I imagine would instantly fall in love with whatever was thrust into my arms. Or at least instantly fall into relief at being done with the whole process of pregnancy and birth. But there was always that little niggling fear that the first thought I would have as I discovered the gender was "oh, I wish it were another girl." (sort of like the dream I had that I gave birth to a cat - my first thought in the dream was "Oh, I was hoping for another baby...") That is not that first thought I wanted to have about my child.
So I am letting it grow on me. Boy. Son. Little BOY. Baby boy. Little brother. Be nice to your brother. Boy. Boy. Boy. Boy. My son. Sweet baby boy. Can you call a little boy pumpkin? Or is that a girl nickname? What about sweet potato pie? Probably not princess...I'll have to come up with a whole new arsenal of pet names. And I'll have to worry about him peeing in my face.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sentence Structure and the Talkative Toddler
First let me preface this by saying I am going to brag about my daughter here. I am going to unabashedly tell you how she is incredibly verbal and has an astonishing grasp of language for her age. Before you roll your eyes at my first-time-momness, know I also have a little perspective. I have been teaching kids age 18 months-5 years for a long time now, so I do understand that being verbal doesn't mean she is advanced...just verbal. I know that just because she can talk a blue streak doesn't mean she is smarter or better than any of the other kids her age. I am not planning on getting "Your Baby Can Read!" or "The Great Speeches of William Shakespeare, Toddler Edition" (I am sure someone makes this product) and drilling rote memorization into her sponge-like little noggin. I am trying very hard NOT to be one of those "Montgomery County Power Moms" I often rolled my eyes at when I was teaching my mommy and me classes.
MoCoPower Mom: Junior 7 months old. He is very advanced. He needs such and such, so his Nanny here will be with him during this class while I set up his Mandarin lessons for next session. To which Nanny will accompany him as well.
Me: Um...okay.
MoCoPower Mom: Please don't use "um" in front of him. I believe it stunts his linguistic develoment.
Me: Sure. Your son spit up on your briefcase.
MoCoPower Mom: See how smart he is!
Montgomery County is full of very competitive mommies. I really don't want to be one of them. I personally think Lucy is so verbal because Kevin and I are home together a lot during the day, so she is exposed to more adult conversation than many toddlers are. Anyway, here ends the disclaimer.
Lucy has an amazing vocabulary. I thought I was just being a typical "my child is so smart" kind of mom. I mean, I know she is an early talker and would be considered very verbal for her age, but I recently taught a class full of 2-and-a-half year-olds that didn't have as many words as Lucy does at 21 months. I feel like it is a real privilege to have such a clear window in her mind this early. She'll be staring off in space, looking positively dejected, when suddenly she'll turn to me and say "Rode the carousel! Horsies went up and down! And zebra!" So she wasn't sad or scared or worried at all - just really thinking about that carousel ride. It is incredibly cool.
She fearlessly grapples with words like "calendula" and "helicopter", and 9 times out of 10 coming out with a perfectly respectable and understandable version of these words. Sometimes she gets a long word perfectly the first time - which is always pretty amazing - but then any other time she tries it is comes out like a mouthful of mashed potatoes - which is always pretty cute. Calendula turned into "Angela" and then "calandrela..la..la". Helicopter is now "heh-copter". She'll be halfway through a completely intelligible sentence only to have it devolve into gibberish halfway through and then come out clear again at the end - like her mouth couldn't keep up with brain ("Lucy wants to eat spagelti grushitmut bybye the doggie?"). But by and large, she is fairly understandable and talks in semi-complete sentences almost all the time. She climbs the stairs to the slide and says "Up the stairs, down the slide. Here goes Lucy!" Lucy looked at my husband this morning and said "Daddy is a peanut." Kevin said "I am?" Then she replied "Lucy is a peanut, too." She picks a tomato off the vine and say "Tiny tomato is green! Lucy holdin' it." (this, despite the dozens of times I have told her that we wait till the tomatoes are RED before we pick them. This little tomato picker is doing more damage to my garden than the bleeping chipmunks).
The other day, I listened to her conversation with Elmo in the back seat as we drove home from the park. It was quiet, then I hear "Want cookies." I asked "You want cookies?" More quiet. "ELMO, you want cookies? Yeah?" The subtext was clearly, "Mama, I am not talking to YOU." Then she went on, "You have a poopy butt? Change the butt, Elmo? Yeah?" Then she erupted in giggles and squeals and gibberish that had me in stitches the rest of the ride home.
Of course, this "advanced vocabulary" doesn't mean that she has a perfect grasp on language. I will hear her talking to her her stuffed animals, giving a running commentary on what she is doing. "Eating the kitty. Banana?" ("The kitty is eating. Would you like a banana?") "Sitting the mouse? Chair, mousie?" ("The mouse is sitting. Want a chair?") "Change diaper. On the floor. Elmo, change the butt!" ("Let's change Elmo's diaper on the floor!" The unfortunate phrase "Change the butt" is something she picked up from us before we realized how closely she was listening).
She is currently trying out the use of pronouns. This is incredibly cute, because she simply doesn't understand them, but hears Mama and Daddy using them all the time. So using all 21 months of deductive reasoning skills, she applies them as they seem to make sense. I can't tell you then number of times I have stood at the top of the stairs when her hands are full and say "Do you want me to carry you down the stairs?" So now, instead of waiting for me to ask, she'll look at her arms full of stuffed animals and say "Carry you? Yeah?". She says things like "You want cookies." I'll say "No, I don't want cookies". To which she'll repeat "You want cookies. PLEASE!" Oh, YOU want cookies, I see. Sometimes she'll start to squeal in frustration and say "HELP!!" and then whatever she is doing suddenly goes her way and she says triumphantly "You got it!". It took me a few times of her saying this to realize that she thinks "YOU" is another name for "Lucy". I will also frequently ask her "Do you want to come with me upstairs or wait down here?" This morning I came back from the gym and said "I'm going to go take a shower". Lucy comes running up to the gate and says "Come with me!" So my name is "Mama", but it must also be "me", since I frequently refer to myself as "me". She randomly applies "he" and "she", with no apparent rhyme or reason. She looked at a picture of Abraham Lincoln and said "She's sad. Give hugs and kisses." Then she proceeded to hug and kiss the picture of Abe Lincoln. I sometimes wonder if I should correct her, but then I remember that most children don't start to use pronouns at all until they are 2 years old.
She's advanced and all ;-)
MoCoPower Mom: Junior 7 months old. He is very advanced. He needs such and such, so his Nanny here will be with him during this class while I set up his Mandarin lessons for next session. To which Nanny will accompany him as well.
Me: Um...okay.
MoCoPower Mom: Please don't use "um" in front of him. I believe it stunts his linguistic develoment.
Me: Sure. Your son spit up on your briefcase.
MoCoPower Mom: See how smart he is!
Montgomery County is full of very competitive mommies. I really don't want to be one of them. I personally think Lucy is so verbal because Kevin and I are home together a lot during the day, so she is exposed to more adult conversation than many toddlers are. Anyway, here ends the disclaimer.
Lucy has an amazing vocabulary. I thought I was just being a typical "my child is so smart" kind of mom. I mean, I know she is an early talker and would be considered very verbal for her age, but I recently taught a class full of 2-and-a-half year-olds that didn't have as many words as Lucy does at 21 months. I feel like it is a real privilege to have such a clear window in her mind this early. She'll be staring off in space, looking positively dejected, when suddenly she'll turn to me and say "Rode the carousel! Horsies went up and down! And zebra!" So she wasn't sad or scared or worried at all - just really thinking about that carousel ride. It is incredibly cool.
She fearlessly grapples with words like "calendula" and "helicopter", and 9 times out of 10 coming out with a perfectly respectable and understandable version of these words. Sometimes she gets a long word perfectly the first time - which is always pretty amazing - but then any other time she tries it is comes out like a mouthful of mashed potatoes - which is always pretty cute. Calendula turned into "Angela" and then "calandrela..la..la". Helicopter is now "heh-copter". She'll be halfway through a completely intelligible sentence only to have it devolve into gibberish halfway through and then come out clear again at the end - like her mouth couldn't keep up with brain ("Lucy wants to eat spagelti grushitmut bybye the doggie?"). But by and large, she is fairly understandable and talks in semi-complete sentences almost all the time. She climbs the stairs to the slide and says "Up the stairs, down the slide. Here goes Lucy!" Lucy looked at my husband this morning and said "Daddy is a peanut." Kevin said "I am?" Then she replied "Lucy is a peanut, too." She picks a tomato off the vine and say "Tiny tomato is green! Lucy holdin' it." (this, despite the dozens of times I have told her that we wait till the tomatoes are RED before we pick them. This little tomato picker is doing more damage to my garden than the bleeping chipmunks).
The other day, I listened to her conversation with Elmo in the back seat as we drove home from the park. It was quiet, then I hear "Want cookies." I asked "You want cookies?" More quiet. "ELMO, you want cookies? Yeah?" The subtext was clearly, "Mama, I am not talking to YOU." Then she went on, "You have a poopy butt? Change the butt, Elmo? Yeah?" Then she erupted in giggles and squeals and gibberish that had me in stitches the rest of the ride home.
Of course, this "advanced vocabulary" doesn't mean that she has a perfect grasp on language. I will hear her talking to her her stuffed animals, giving a running commentary on what she is doing. "Eating the kitty. Banana?" ("The kitty is eating. Would you like a banana?") "Sitting the mouse? Chair, mousie?" ("The mouse is sitting. Want a chair?") "Change diaper. On the floor. Elmo, change the butt!" ("Let's change Elmo's diaper on the floor!" The unfortunate phrase "Change the butt" is something she picked up from us before we realized how closely she was listening).
She is currently trying out the use of pronouns. This is incredibly cute, because she simply doesn't understand them, but hears Mama and Daddy using them all the time. So using all 21 months of deductive reasoning skills, she applies them as they seem to make sense. I can't tell you then number of times I have stood at the top of the stairs when her hands are full and say "Do you want me to carry you down the stairs?" So now, instead of waiting for me to ask, she'll look at her arms full of stuffed animals and say "Carry you? Yeah?". She says things like "You want cookies." I'll say "No, I don't want cookies". To which she'll repeat "You want cookies. PLEASE!" Oh, YOU want cookies, I see. Sometimes she'll start to squeal in frustration and say "HELP!!" and then whatever she is doing suddenly goes her way and she says triumphantly "You got it!". It took me a few times of her saying this to realize that she thinks "YOU" is another name for "Lucy". I will also frequently ask her "Do you want to come with me upstairs or wait down here?" This morning I came back from the gym and said "I'm going to go take a shower". Lucy comes running up to the gate and says "Come with me!" So my name is "Mama", but it must also be "me", since I frequently refer to myself as "me". She randomly applies "he" and "she", with no apparent rhyme or reason. She looked at a picture of Abraham Lincoln and said "She's sad. Give hugs and kisses." Then she proceeded to hug and kiss the picture of Abe Lincoln. I sometimes wonder if I should correct her, but then I remember that most children don't start to use pronouns at all until they are 2 years old.
She's advanced and all ;-)
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