In the grocery store the other day, Arden pointed to a bag of tea biscuit cookies with a very proud look on her face and said "F$&@!". That's right, the one that rhymes with stuck.
I take complete responsibility for this. I always encourage her to talk and try my darnedest to figure out what she's trying to say. It's so fun to communicate with her like this and I won't pretend the mispronunciations aren't hilarious.
The tea biscuit incident occurred because she thought they were crackers and f$&@ is how she says cracker. Please don't ask me why. A linguist would know... Too many hard sounds and f$&@ is the best she can do. It's pretty impressive how babies will try to say words even if there's no chance they'll be able to really say it. For instance: helicopter is "pop!", computer is "tuter" and avocado is just plain "cado".
One of Arden’s playmates has the exact same explicative way of saying fire truck. At least that's the right idea. Does anyone remember that scene from Backdraft... I mean, hot.
Being able to understand Arden is so important to me. I think all moms are able to understand about 95% of what their kids "say" to them even before they can speak. That's why I was so frustrated when I could not figure out a sign that Arden was doing. A little while back we were in the bath singing songs and she started to pump her fists together as if she was saying she wanted to fight me but that's not what she meant. She was trying to tell me a song that she wanted me to sing and I could not figure it out. She kept pumping her fists together shaking her head no, no to every song title I offered up. It drove me crazy! As time went by, she kept trying that sign to see if I'd figured it out. She is very persistent. Well, one day, while we were watching a bit of Aladdin together, she started to pump her fists together during the song "One Jump" which is a song where Aladdin is being chased by guards through the streets of Agrabah. It's a fight/chase scene that I now have the pleasure of singing and reenacting to her multiple times daily. Thank you Alan Menken.
As I wrote the first part of this posting about a week ago Arden’s ability to pronounce multi-syllable words has increased. So, if you come over for a visit and she calls you a f$&@er, you’ll know she’s just hungry.
I'd love to hear about your own trials of communication! Please feel free to comment and share.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Mean People Suck
I just consumed my third shot of espresso for the day (in latte form) and a large piece of coconut flake covered chocolate cake for lunch. Yep, it’s one of those days. We are well into April and NYC has overcast skies as well as what feels like a high temperature of 2 degrees. I’m huddled on the couch, space heater blasting, trying to warm up my soul.
The baby is watching “Follow That Bird” for the 12,000th time. I’m not proud of that. At this point, I’m practicing zen and the art of the lesser-of-two-evils. Better to have her watch a movie than to have me scream at her.
You know what’s funny? I’ve been thinking about it and I cannot remember my mother yelling at me, not even once. She is a very strong woman but I still don’t know how she did it. Some days I feel like I’ve got my tongue in a never ending headlock.
I don’t want to yell at Arden. No one feels good about themselves when they are being yelled at. That doesn’t make someone feel loved. The look on her face when I yell at her says so much, “I let you down Mom..., I’m sorry Mom..., I feel worthless, I’m mad at you for yelling at me and I am going to hold it over you...” Her facial expression stops my yelling like a swift kick to the heart.
It’s so hard knowing that my lack of patience, creativity and selflessness cause her pain. I wonder if they have a 529 savings account for therapy...
The baby is watching “Follow That Bird” for the 12,000th time. I’m not proud of that. At this point, I’m practicing zen and the art of the lesser-of-two-evils. Better to have her watch a movie than to have me scream at her.
You know what’s funny? I’ve been thinking about it and I cannot remember my mother yelling at me, not even once. She is a very strong woman but I still don’t know how she did it. Some days I feel like I’ve got my tongue in a never ending headlock.
I don’t want to yell at Arden. No one feels good about themselves when they are being yelled at. That doesn’t make someone feel loved. The look on her face when I yell at her says so much, “I let you down Mom..., I’m sorry Mom..., I feel worthless, I’m mad at you for yelling at me and I am going to hold it over you...” Her facial expression stops my yelling like a swift kick to the heart.
It’s so hard knowing that my lack of patience, creativity and selflessness cause her pain. I wonder if they have a 529 savings account for therapy...
Friday, April 8, 2011
Confession #13: It Finally Happened
The trees in NYC have finally started to bloom! It may still be overcast, rainy, freezing winter coat and hat weather out there today but we have flowering trees so that gives me some hope. Ah, New York in spring..., but, that’s not the thing-that-finally-happened that I’m really here to talk about...
Arden jumped! It was so cute. Instead of just bending her legs and doing all the movements of a jump but not having her feet leave the ground like usual, her feet actually defied gravity. It’s so much fun to watch her do things I so take for granted for the first time. One of those joys of parenting that keeps us reproducing. But, that’s not the thing-that-finally-happened either...
Arden walked up and down stairs without crawling, scooting or holding on to anything! We were hanging out at Athens Square (Astoria, Queens is still home to the largest contingency of Greeks outside of Greece) and right in front of the statue of Aristotle, she just started marching up and down, back and forth. It was too funny because as soon as I pointed it out to her, she started crawling up and down the very same stairs. Sometimes analysis is paralysis. But that’s not the thing-that-finally-happened either... It must be obvious by now that I am stalling.
I am about to find out who actually reads my blog because I don’t think there is anyway you can read this and not have something to say about it. Okay, here it goes.
I’ve been dreading this since Arden was a baby. It’s a hazard of living in NYC and a hazard of living in an apartment building. It seemed like it was only a matter of time before it happened. I think it was more likely to happen now since she is a bit older but still puts so many things in her mouth. We had just come home from the store and entered the foyer (if you can call it that) of our building. In the 1.5 seconds it takes me to fold up our stroller Arden found a dead roach on the stairs, picked it up and took a bite. Although her back was to me, as soon as she turned around, I knew what happened...mostly from the “OMG, Mom what did I do” look on her face and the roach legs on her bottom lip. I went a little nuts.
“ARDEN! That’s why I'm always telling you not to pick up stuff off the floor and eat it!!! UGH! BLECH! Why did you bite it? Did you think it was a piece of chocolate?” To which she responded, “Yes.”
I wiped the body parts off her face as fast as humanly possible and made her stick out her tongue so I could wipe that clean as well. Honestly, we got lucky. She hadn’t swallowed anything and the roach was dead, after all.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Suffering Succotash
One of the questions that plagues me daily is how much should I let Arden suffer? Whether we like it or not, suffering is a huge part of life. And I wonder, should I shelter her from as much suffering as possible or allow her to build up a tolerance?
When Arden was three days old we took her for the required visit to her pediatrician. He told us a lot of things and one of the things he said was that we can let her cry. The whole (warning, here I go with the over-hyphenating again) if-you-pick-up-your-baby-every-time-she-cries-you-will-spoil-her thing. So, against what every bone in my body and all my intuition was telling me, we let her cry in her crib at 2am and I went to take a shower. It was awful. As soon as I got out of the shower I ran in and picked her up knowing that it was way too soon for that kind of suffering.
Of course, now at 21 months, letting her cry in her crib is sometimes an option since she's no longer a newborn. Even though I hate to see her cry and I empathize with her, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go through her childhood without learning the ropes.
In America’s Women by Gail Collins (NY Times Op Ed writer), Ms. Collins writes about the fascinating lives of women throughout our history in America. When I want to feel smart, I dive in to read a bit. One thing she discusses in the book is how prior to the Civil War, mothers allowed their young daughters to travel, carry on chaste love affairs (ah, those were the days) and return home from dances at 2am. Mothers shielded their daughters from the truth that once they were married, they would basically become home-bound slaves that were expected to keep house and were not allowed to walk the streets alone. But then, the young women would marry and overnight become nothing more than cloistered housewives without any preparation or forewarning. They often struggled to perform all the chores necessary in the 1800s (way beyond Swiffering) since they hadn’t been taught how to do it and they had to figure it all out in isolation. (pp. 137-138)
I don’t want something comparable to happen to Arden. I know that life only gets more difficult as you get older. I want Arden to have a fun and carefree childhood but there has to be a middle ground. I don’t want her to lead a sheltered life as much as I hate to see her suffer. It’s likely better for her to learn how to handle difficulties at home first before having to handle them out in the world. Just surviving me should give her enough experience to prepare her for the world of hard knocks.
When Arden was three days old we took her for the required visit to her pediatrician. He told us a lot of things and one of the things he said was that we can let her cry. The whole (warning, here I go with the over-hyphenating again) if-you-pick-up-your-baby-every-time-she-cries-you-will-spoil-her thing. So, against what every bone in my body and all my intuition was telling me, we let her cry in her crib at 2am and I went to take a shower. It was awful. As soon as I got out of the shower I ran in and picked her up knowing that it was way too soon for that kind of suffering.
Of course, now at 21 months, letting her cry in her crib is sometimes an option since she's no longer a newborn. Even though I hate to see her cry and I empathize with her, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to go through her childhood without learning the ropes.
In America’s Women by Gail Collins (NY Times Op Ed writer), Ms. Collins writes about the fascinating lives of women throughout our history in America. When I want to feel smart, I dive in to read a bit. One thing she discusses in the book is how prior to the Civil War, mothers allowed their young daughters to travel, carry on chaste love affairs (ah, those were the days) and return home from dances at 2am. Mothers shielded their daughters from the truth that once they were married, they would basically become home-bound slaves that were expected to keep house and were not allowed to walk the streets alone. But then, the young women would marry and overnight become nothing more than cloistered housewives without any preparation or forewarning. They often struggled to perform all the chores necessary in the 1800s (way beyond Swiffering) since they hadn’t been taught how to do it and they had to figure it all out in isolation. (pp. 137-138)
I don’t want something comparable to happen to Arden. I know that life only gets more difficult as you get older. I want Arden to have a fun and carefree childhood but there has to be a middle ground. I don’t want her to lead a sheltered life as much as I hate to see her suffer. It’s likely better for her to learn how to handle difficulties at home first before having to handle them out in the world. Just surviving me should give her enough experience to prepare her for the world of hard knocks.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Redefining Terrible
If you look up the word terrible in the dictionary this is what you find:
Terrible - adj. For definition please ask the parents of a two year old.
I used to think, "Come on, what could be so terrible about a tiny two year old...?" Even though Arden is only 20 months, terrible is beginning to take on a whole new meaning for me.
Here is a list of things she did this morning:
(Please note she was given a warning each time not to continue doing that thing.)
Kick the dog, repeatedly
Grab the computer mouse, hold it over her head and say "Yay!"
Put Kyle's boxers on her head covering her eyes and start walking around
Put a hat over her eyes and try to step off the couch
Walk successfully from the bathroom to the kitchen holding her baby potty over her face (thankfully it hadn't been used)
Throw her fork, twice
Throw egg at me
Wipe yogurt on the back of her high chair
Run away from me naked
Scream in my ear for no apparent reason
Pinch me, timeout number 1
Hit me, timeout number 2
Stand up on the chair repeatedly while in timeout eliciting a longer timeout
Pick pieces of foam off from underneath the air conditioner, timeout number 3
Draw on her leg with crayon
Draw on the tv with crayon
Draw on my face with crayon. Yes, I finally took away the crayons.
Eat stickers
Scream at me, "No baby!!! (meaning, let me put my own boots on)
Chase Mew our cat screaming "Ahhhhhh!"
Spill water on purpose
Spill soup on purpose
And my favorite of the morning..., chew up a pea pod and spit it out all over Penelope our dog's head. I take the blame for that one because no one really wants to eat pea pods anyway.
Terrible - adj. For definition please ask the parents of a two year old.
I used to think, "Come on, what could be so terrible about a tiny two year old...?" Even though Arden is only 20 months, terrible is beginning to take on a whole new meaning for me.
Here is a list of things she did this morning:
(Please note she was given a warning each time not to continue doing that thing.)
Kick the dog, repeatedly
Grab the computer mouse, hold it over her head and say "Yay!"
Put Kyle's boxers on her head covering her eyes and start walking around
Put a hat over her eyes and try to step off the couch
Walk successfully from the bathroom to the kitchen holding her baby potty over her face (thankfully it hadn't been used)
Throw her fork, twice
Throw egg at me
Wipe yogurt on the back of her high chair
Run away from me naked
Scream in my ear for no apparent reason
Pinch me, timeout number 1
Hit me, timeout number 2
Stand up on the chair repeatedly while in timeout eliciting a longer timeout
Pick pieces of foam off from underneath the air conditioner, timeout number 3
Draw on her leg with crayon
Draw on the tv with crayon
Draw on my face with crayon. Yes, I finally took away the crayons.
Eat stickers
Scream at me, "No baby!!! (meaning, let me put my own boots on)
Chase Mew our cat screaming "Ahhhhhh!"
Spill water on purpose
Spill soup on purpose
And my favorite of the morning..., chew up a pea pod and spit it out all over Penelope our dog's head. I take the blame for that one because no one really wants to eat pea pods anyway.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Confession #12: Blame it on the Supermoon
“Don’t you blame it on the lame nap,
Don’t blame it on the diaper rash,
Don’t blame it on the terrible twos,
Blame it on the Supermoon.”
We barely sleep Saturday night and not for any fun reason. Our little girl decided to scream her head off at intervals inhibiting rem sleep all night long. I’ll take this opportunity to remind folks just stopping by that we all sleep in the same bedroom. City living. Na na na na na. Kyle did an extraordinary job of trying to calm down our night-time banshee, unfortunately to no avail. She wanted to be in bed with us and if she didn’t get what she wanted, she was going to go nuts.
We tried to wait her out but after it was clear she was not going to calm herself down, we headed out of the bedroom. That always results in a dramatic increase in the decibel level emitting from our child. Then, thinking we are so rational, we begin to discuss what’s going on. “Well,” I say, “She didn’t get a good nap in...”. “Argh,”, Kyle says, “This wouldn’t be happening if we had a house.” We give her sufficient time to make sure she’s back asleep and we head back in.
Now it’s egg shell time. Arden is in a state where the slightest movement or sound wakes her up for more screaming so we don our invisible astronaut suits and attempt to move weightlessly back into bed.
We make it but can’t fall asleep. It’s so hard to fall asleep without making any adjustments to get comfortable. If I even smell Kyle thinking about turning over I silently yell at him. You see, Arden is like Zool from Ghostbusters. If you even think that she might wake up and start screaming again, she will.
Just as I was telling myself, “clear your mind, clear your mind,” it just popped in there. I couldn’t help it. I started to think about her waking up crying and sure enough, she stood up an started wailing.
By now it’s 1am and the Supermoon is having it’s maximum effect on all of us. We leave the bedroom are now completely irrational. Instead of turning into werewolves we turn into sailors letting every swearword we know rip off in true sleep deprived form. After 20 months of trying to cope in the middle of the night we still haven’t figure out a good way to do it. We totally loose it at some point every time. I believe I take top prize this time by my declaring that I would, “get dressed and walk out the door,” if Kyle blew up the air mattress for me. I should record a video of my 8am self (post-Americano when I am most completely with it) warning my 1am self that, “if you are watching this video you should go sit down and shut up!”
Don’t blame it on the diaper rash,
Don’t blame it on the terrible twos,
Blame it on the Supermoon.”
We barely sleep Saturday night and not for any fun reason. Our little girl decided to scream her head off at intervals inhibiting rem sleep all night long. I’ll take this opportunity to remind folks just stopping by that we all sleep in the same bedroom. City living. Na na na na na. Kyle did an extraordinary job of trying to calm down our night-time banshee, unfortunately to no avail. She wanted to be in bed with us and if she didn’t get what she wanted, she was going to go nuts.
We tried to wait her out but after it was clear she was not going to calm herself down, we headed out of the bedroom. That always results in a dramatic increase in the decibel level emitting from our child. Then, thinking we are so rational, we begin to discuss what’s going on. “Well,” I say, “She didn’t get a good nap in...”. “Argh,”, Kyle says, “This wouldn’t be happening if we had a house.” We give her sufficient time to make sure she’s back asleep and we head back in.
Now it’s egg shell time. Arden is in a state where the slightest movement or sound wakes her up for more screaming so we don our invisible astronaut suits and attempt to move weightlessly back into bed.
We make it but can’t fall asleep. It’s so hard to fall asleep without making any adjustments to get comfortable. If I even smell Kyle thinking about turning over I silently yell at him. You see, Arden is like Zool from Ghostbusters. If you even think that she might wake up and start screaming again, she will.
Just as I was telling myself, “clear your mind, clear your mind,” it just popped in there. I couldn’t help it. I started to think about her waking up crying and sure enough, she stood up an started wailing.
By now it’s 1am and the Supermoon is having it’s maximum effect on all of us. We leave the bedroom are now completely irrational. Instead of turning into werewolves we turn into sailors letting every swearword we know rip off in true sleep deprived form. After 20 months of trying to cope in the middle of the night we still haven’t figure out a good way to do it. We totally loose it at some point every time. I believe I take top prize this time by my declaring that I would, “get dressed and walk out the door,” if Kyle blew up the air mattress for me. I should record a video of my 8am self (post-Americano when I am most completely with it) warning my 1am self that, “if you are watching this video you should go sit down and shut up!”
 | ||
| Thank you Supermoon. You are beautiful but if it's another 18 years until we meet again that's fine by me. |
Saturday, March 19, 2011
And the Winner Is...
Liza767! Congratulations! I'll be in contact by email to get your shipping information to send your copy of:
Gustafer Yellowgold's Infinity Sock Off-Broadway show was GREAT! Arden got to meet Gustafer in person since they had someone wear a very well done costume at the end of the show.
Thanks to everyone who became a subscriber and commented on my blog! I appreciate all the support so much. Looks like I'll soon pass 1,000 views, wow!
Gustafer Yellowgold's Infinity Sock Off-Broadway show was GREAT! Arden got to meet Gustafer in person since they had someone wear a very well done costume at the end of the show.
Thanks to everyone who became a subscriber and commented on my blog! I appreciate all the support so much. Looks like I'll soon pass 1,000 views, wow!
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