A "light bulb" moment

So now that Oots (22 months) and Lucky (21 months) have mastered the whole walking thing, each with their own personal variations of skill, their language and comprehension skills are taking off like rockets.

At first, they parroted everything, every noise, every word.  Oots would make us all giggle with his "Please":  He would show all of his teeth in an ingratiating grin, and - with his mouth barely moving - say, "Tcch".  Also, "Blue" was a favorite word, but his pronunciation was worth another giggle: Lips pressed together, again, barely moving, "Bbbbooommmm" but with more of a buzz. It's really impossible to create the pronunciation in writing.

Lucky parroted entire phrases at a run:  "Bye bye see y' soon" (from "Pocoyo" closing scenes); "Habit? Tekoo. Wehcom" (translation:  "Can I have it?  Thank you! You're welcome") and "oh baby y'okay?"

But slowly individual words are becoming clearer and their meanings.  Dancer tells me Oots not only started identifying objects  but putting possession on them:  "MAMA's chair",  "DADDY'S truck".  And learning again at a run - like 10 new words a day. She said, "I'm right here with him and it's moving so fast I can't keep up."

The whole identifying thing.  It's like they have both had that light bulb moment when they realize all that stuff coming out of our mouths has meaning.  It's not just noise we are making, but we are naming objects and actions. 

I was fortunate enough to witness a lightbulb moment and realize it a few days ago.  Sadly, I can remember very few of my own children's moments (what can I say? I'm old) so I have to write this down before the next moment comes and goes.

Two weeks ago Thursday:

Lucky likes to sit in my office with me while I work.  She has her little easy chair and there is a second computer in here to play Super Simple Songs playlist or set up Giggles for Baby for her to play with the keyboard.  On that day, Giggles for Baby was on, one of the "games" where a baby can press the keys on the keyboard and ABCs and 123s pop up and say things like "A is for Apple".   Lucky has a few favorites ("5 chocolate chip cookies! yum!") but today she was just randomly hitting buttons.

"C is for CAT," said Giggles.

She stopped tapping keys.  Walked to the monitor.  Touched the screen lightly with one finger.

"Cat," she said quietly.

"Yeah, that's a cat.  What does a cat say?" I played along, you know, being interactive, workin' the whole animal sounds routine.

"Cat!" she pointed again, this time with more emphasis.

Still attempting to encourage, I responded with, "You're right, that is a cat.  Cat says 'Miaow'!" in my best growly kitty cat imitation, which she usually laughs at, or at least smiles.

"CAT!" she said a third time, decisively, louder, her hand flat on the picture of the cat, and looking back at me as if to say, "No you are not getting it. This is important. I just realized. THIS IS A CAT."

"Cat!" I repeat, watching her. 

"CAAAA-AAAT!!!"  She nearly shouts and all but rolls her eyes at me. But this time, I have indeed gotten it.  No comment from me is required or desired.  So I just nod.

"Cat." One last time, she gently pats the cat on the screen and moves on to the next.

Doodle-isms

Doodlebug (3) spent the weekend with me, due to an extended 10th anniversary celebration of Dilly and Baby Boy.  Yep, they hve been married 10 years and still crazy in luv.  Or just crazy, not sure.

He made arrangements for the kids to be taken care of so Dilly could meet him on the road where he is setting up for his new gig.  He's working with a carpentry stage crew for a theatrical show on national tour.  Anyway, she got a  4 day vacay from childcare and I got the 3-year-old for the weekend.

Some things were frustating - she still has problems communicating.  I mean, she's 3, her language patterns are still going to be a little bit confusing.  But so many things happened that I want to remember and cherish. So...

Here are a few Doodle-isms from this weekend:
1. If you leave cookie dough or peanut butter unattended, the mess that results is your own fault
2. If it gets very quiet, she is either into something or asleep. Guess which happened most often
3. If she says "NUFFIN'!" she is definitely doing something she shouldn't
4. If she comes running in saying "I sorry I sorry", it's probably way too late
5. She can eat her weight in grilled cheese, bacon, and chocolate chip cookies. Fortunately, she's only about 25 pounds.
6. Her active imagination: a baby bed became Ariel's ocean and a pier for fishing, Minnie Mouse got told "Don't you MAMA me!"
7. If something meets her approval, she declares it "Perfick!" (where did she get that?)
8. She matches tone perfectly - she could sing with every TV theme song and commercial in tune, and even "beeped" in tune with the microwave.
9. She loves to cuddle on my lap and sing songs with hand motions, over and over again. Bunny FooFoo, anyone?
 

There are probably dozens more - everything this weekend happened so fast, I can't remember them all. 

 

I just want to remember that I love this little girl - she's not an angel but infinitely more interesting.

Bubbles

[insert absolutely adorable picture of grandkids chasing bubbles.  I can't find it]



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"No!" the Duchess cried out loudly.  "No! Don't get the bubbles off! Nooooooo! Not with the tickle water!"

I went to see why the bathroom sounded like a Fourth of July battle at Water World.  

Oh.  Bathtime.

'Tickle water' is the handheld shower head.

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"Bobbooo!  Bobboooo!"

18-month-old Oots pronounces 'bubbles' like 'bob-boo' and of course wants to hold the bubble stick himself.   He earnestly pumps the bubble wand in the bubble cup and, with more enthusiasm than accuracy, attempts to create bubbles. 

He doesn't like it when someone else blows the bubbles.

Much like his mother, not a follower, not a chaser of other people's bubbles, but determined to make his own.

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Words of... wisdom? encouragement? something anyway - from the five-year-old Duchess.

"Good job on the bubbles, Lovey," she stated solemnly as she watched the sink fill with hot water and bubbles, getting ready to wash dishes.

She was right. I did do a good job.

Learning to talk

I love the babies.  Even the one who is 10 years old. But the most fun are the ones just learning to communicate.

19-month-old Lucky relating a conversation, an argument it seems, between "Mama" and "Rora", gestulating, turning from side to side, facial expressions, full on drama:

"Rora, Mama, Daddy, bitabitabita ahoppa DOWN... Rora Mama MAMA RORA animita baortisor OH NO atipado..." and so it goes. 

Enunciating her words - those words in her own language - so carefully.  I can hear bits and pieces of words and phrases that I know she has overheard. She doesn't know what they mean, not really, but she has heard them enough to try to repeat them. 

At the end of the story, she looks up expectantly, waiting for ... what?  Applause?  Comments?  Not sure. But I responded, wide-eyed, and interested, "And then what?" only to receive a slightly disparaging look indicating that I have somehow missed the point.

Just a couple of short months ago, I could respond with a breathless, "Really?!?" to which she would reply, firmly, "Yeth!"  It would make me laugh, and she was sure I was in complete agreement with her.  Now that her stories have gotten more complex,  she quietly demands more understanding, and is frustrated that I don't understand all of her attempts at language.

I know I will love communicating with her, and knowing what she wants, and hearing her stories.  But I know I'm going to miss that innocent baby language that is all her own.

Why I call her "The Duchess" and also, Men Cannot Multitask

The Duchess is a picky eater - no surprise, she's four and Daddy (WoWguy) eats like a teenager - pizza, tacos, burgers, etc - so when she started eating regular sandwiches, specifically peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cheese sandwiches, naturally Turtle and WoWguy were thrilled.  

One day last week, the Duchess and her daddy had a PB&J for lunch.  After she finished, she said, "Ok, now I'm ready for my cheese sandwich."

Just then the phone rang.  "Ok, baby, but Daddy needs to take this phone call from work first, then I'll get you a cheese sandwich."

A few minutes later, she said again, "Daddy, I'm ready for my cheese sandwich."

"Sure, ok, I'll just finish this and get a cheese sandwich for you."

Little while later, "Daddy, where's my cheese sandwich?"

"Oh yeah, I need to do one more thing here, then I'll get it."

Then, while she waited patiently, spinning around his office chair, a song on the radio and caught his attention:

"Duchess, come here! Listen to this! It's Daddy's favorite song!"

Stopping the chair, she put the full Duchess mode on:

"NO IT'S NOT!!  Your favorite song is GET. ME. MY. CHEESE. SANDWICH."

She got her sandwich.

We all have special needs

Reading an old guest post on Rants from Mommy Land on "Special Needs Mommies" led me to think about Pooh Bear and the Dancer and their relationship.

The Dancer is the oldest but still, she was only three and a half when the Pooh was born.  At first, we didn't know that Pooh had special needs, but it was really apparent by the time the Dancer had her 4th birthday.  Especially since, if I am not mistaken, the birthday party had to be postponed because Pooh was in the hospital - again. 

The point being that the Dancer probably does not remember a time when Pooh's special needs didn't come before anything else.  Special needs kids are DEMANDING.  Like 24/7/365 demanding.  Because the moment you stop paying attention for JUST ONE SECOND JUST LET ME PEE FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, disaster strikes. 

Pooh was in a wheelchair when she was four - mostly in a stroller before that, because by the time she was adept at sitting up by herself she was dangerously top-heavy in like a shopping cart or whatever.  But being in a wheelchair brings stares and inconveniences and heaven help us, comments and questions. 

"Why is she in a wheelchair?" 
"Can she talk?" 
"What's her name?" 
"How old is she?"
etc ad nauseum

I had to grow a thick skin quickly if I wanted to live a normal life and teach my girls to treat Pooh like a human being and not something to be hidden. 

The thick skin did not grow well on the Dancer. Really, still hasn't.  It still bugs her.

First time I realized that it bugged her is when she verbally attacked another kid her age, maybe 9 years old?, in a department store that was asking all the regular questions.  I was trying to both shop and answer as honestly and as simply as I could without going into too much personal, when the Dancer rounded on them:

"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? Didn't your mother teach you that's rude?  Why are you asking so many questions?  Is it REALLY any of your business?"  and so on until I nearly had to drag her away.

"The way you behaved was as rude as what they were doing,"  I lectured her.  "Pooh does not need you to defend her from stares and rude questions.  And besides, I'd really rather them ask the questions than walk away with the wrong idea about her." 

This has had mixed outcomes:  On the one hand, Dancer and her other siblings, and for that matter, cousins, tend to see the person before they see the handicap in almost everyone they meet.  They accommodate handicaps without thinking.  Opening doors, opting for the table that's easiest for the wheelchair to pull up to, talking to disabled people like PEOPLE and not like the handicap, if you know what I mean.  It's given them a perspective that I'm sure they would not have had without Pooh Bear.  On the other hand, they are hypercritical of the starers, the commenters, and have developed strange strategies to cope with them.  Especially Dancer.

This was obvious when Pooh Bear and I went to visit Dancer and her husband one weekend.  There was a street fair going on a few blocks from her house so, it being a gorgeous day, we decided it would be nice to walk down there and wander around. 

Occasionally, Dancer would, out of the blue, speak to someone:  "Hi, how ya doin'?  Great day for a festival, yeah?  Y'all here from out of town...?"  At which point I realized that she didn't know these people. 

"What are you doing? Do you know those people?" I hissed.
"No.  They were just staring at Pooh."

At least she doesn't tackle them any longer.

I never thought I'd hear...

List of things I never thought I would hear:

• Oldest daughter, Dancer.  She's uber-independent, I-can-do-it-myself, DON'T GIVE ME ADVICE.  She called to ask, "Mom, how do you take a baby to the store if you don't have the stroller?"
• Turtle, second daughter, uses my computer to check her bank balance.  Does The Happy Dance. Why?  "My raise came through and now I have enough to buy CLEANING SUPPLIES!"  Wow.  Who was that?
• My daughter-in-law, who hated school, who has always hated to read, has started BORROWING BOOKS!  I know RIGHT?  Anyway, she said, "I was so happy when the kids went to bed early and Baby Boy (her hubs) was not home yet, I thought, 'Great! Maybe I can finish this book before he gets home!'" 
• Grandson Boogah, spending the night last weekend.  "Lovey, what time is it?"  "Nearly 8oclock, why?"  "It's WAY past my bedtime!"

Sometimes life is stranger than fiction.