Tag Archives: talking

Preschool Drama Award

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I don’t know when it was exactly that my cellphone crapped out on me. I never use the damn thing except as an alarm clock, so I didn’t get a call from Sophia’s school to come and pick her up on Wednesday. Her teacher had brought her in to the nurse’s office that morning concerned about Sophia’s cough. They also called our house, but I didn’t get home until the time that preschool lets out.

Thursday, the last day of school, I called her teacher in the morning before the bus even picked Sophia up. I didn’t want her to think that I’d send Sophia to school if she were really sick. I told her that we didn’t hear any coughing all night and none in the morning, then asked her if Sophia had just been asked to do something she didn’t want to do when the coughing started. The teacher laughed. Yep, that’s what I thought. After picking at a scab on her forehead for about three months, Sophia moved onto a new drama.

the red dot of unknown origin

Picture taken on 2/2/2011. We don't know how the wound originated.

Bandaids make it worse

Picture taken on 3/5/2011. I had tried to get her to stop scratching by covering it with a band-aid. Turns out she has my sensitive skin and is either allergic to the glue or latex, so it was made worse. I just can't win.

after school pony tails

Picture taken on 4/15/2011. I took this picture so Kurt could see her in ponytails. She always takes out whatever they put in as soon as she gets home.

half laughing

She was half laughing, but that was fading fast. She was really wanting the ponytails out. "No ponies! No!"

No ponies!

You see, I told you.

Her latest pity-ploy is to cough until her face turns red and almost to the point of puking. She sheds huge crocodile tears, coughing with her mouth in an oval shape and her tongue out as if she’s about to puke, dramatically sweeps her hair out of her mouth, coughing, half-puking, and then crying, “I don’t want to…”, and more coughing. The first time she did it I was almost convinced that she was coking, except that she could still form words and do so clearly. Sophia, I love you, but you’re not a fucking princess. If you need to cry go to your room. I don’t want to hear it. (I don’t actually tell her the “fucking princess” part, but I do send her to her room.)

As I described for Sophia’s teacher what the coughing probably looked like she laughed even more, “Oh yes, we’ve seen that.” Oh good. It isn’t just reserved for me. I really don’t know how those teachers and therapists deal survive in a room full of children with intense personalities. They’re truly saints. The teacher said they might have been a little over concerned because there was an unconfirmed case of whooping cough in class and one kid that had Pneumonia.

On Monday I received our second and final progress report for the year…

“Sophia has been making steady progress toward reaching her objectives this trimester. She is following two-step directions now with very little difficulty. Sophia continues to join in all activities but clearly enjoys art projects the most. She is beginning to speak to us in full sentences, although, some days she chooses not to talk much at all. ; Snack time is still a challenging time and so far she had not chosen to eat; however, she remains at the snack table with the other students until snack time is over. Sophia has a couple of friends that she enjoys playing with and does some very nice sharing with them. She is continuing to grow and hopefully you will have a wonderful summer with her.”

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List making, it runs in the family

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When Kurt was about three his mom worked as a waitress. His dad would on occasion take the family out to eat where she worked, so Kurt knew what his mom’s job was, and would pretend to take food orders at home. “What you have? ‘ot doh? Fet f-eye? App pie? Pop?” (Translation: hot dog, French fries, apple pie)

Yesterday Sophia wanted a pen and paper to make a “wist” (list). She often wants that. I think they’ve been doing some home and occupational pretend at preschool lately because yesterday she asked me, “Else you want?”
“Are you making a list?”

“Yes”

“What kind of list?”

“Gwo-sury”

So while I did dishes I came up with several grocery items, but she kept asking, “Else you want?” after pretending to write what I wanted on her list. My pauses became longer as I thought of other things and then she told me, “come on, talk!” That’s when I know it’s a preschool influence. My guess is that’s what the other kids tell her.

Sophia wearing Lukas' hat

Sophia wearing Lukas' hat

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She doesn’t understand, I don’t understand

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Just before leaving for preschool one morning a few weeks ago…

“Momma, mah-key kag-roo pak-pak pwease.”

“You want monkey and kangaroo in your backpack?” I asked. She doesn’t have a stuffed kangaroo so I was confused and my repeating her request wasn’t just to have her hear the words pronounced properly and in a properly structured sentence. I was hoping for further information even though I never get it. I still hold out hope from time to time.

“Yes pwease!” She said happily.

“Honey, what kangaroo are you talking about?” I didn’t want to say “yes” to something that might not fit in her backpack or that I didn’t want her to risk losing at school.

“Yes pwease!” She said jumping up and down, “Yes pwease!”

“Wait sweetie, I don’t understand. What kangaroo do you want to bring? Can you show me?”

She began to get frustrated that I wasn’t just saying “yes” or “no” to her request and that her “Yes please” wasn’t doing the magic, so she went through her rolodex of canned politeness. She rolled her eyes up to remember how to say the whole sentence, “May have mah-key kag-roo pak-pak?…Pah-wee-ze!”

I tried so hard not to just laugh that I almost snorted. She didn’t understand that I did not understand what kangaroo she was talking about. She seems to think that if I understand the words that she’s using that I must also understand which of her seven hundred monkey items she wants. The child has about seven stuffed monkeys, a set of monkey PJs, flash cards with monkeys on them, books with monkeys. The kangaroo really stumped me. She has some alphabet flash cards with a Kangaroo for “K”, but that’s about all that I know.

“Ok fine, as long as it fits in your backpack.” I cringed. I also hope it’s not something expensive that might get lost at school. It turned out that she wanted to bring her “Brain Quest” cards. The cards for ages 2 to 3 have a monkey on them and the cards for 3 to 4 have a mouse which looks like a kangaroo to her. Whew! Yep, those can go to school.

brain quest

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Two-month Heavyweight Weigh In

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At three days old, Kurt took off his watch and put it right in front of Lukas’ face and Lukas not only followed with his eyes but also actually turned his head a little to follow the path of the watch. Kurt’s mother stayed with us for two weeks after Lukas was born and he amazed her with how well he held his head up when only a few days old. We even caught him making sounds that bore a striking resemblance to laughing in those few days.

Lukas smiles when he sees me, although he’s probably just thinking, “Lunch has arrived!” The other day I was talking to Lukas and I swear the boy really laughs already. He grinned and made a small laughing like sound. It was like he was thinking, “That’s funny, my food is talking to me.” He pretty much has a one-track mind. Food. You can tell this by the boy’s rolls. Dude has rolls on his rolls.

Mr. Man two-months old

see, I fitbig smile from the big girlflick

Lukas measured nineteen inches at birth and weight in at nine pounds and two ounces. At his one week appointment he was already well on his way to gaining back any weight he has lost after birth. He weigh nine pounds and the nurse measured him at twenty-one and a half inches. Obviously he didn’t grow two and a half inches in one week. The nurse said that the length/height is all an estimate until the child is about five years old, but with her method of measurement, I’m thinking twenty-one and a half inches is more accurate. Instead of laying a measuring tape next to the wriggling baby, she marks the paper on the patient bed at the top of the head and then stretches the little kicking legs out and marks the paper at the bottom of the feet taking the measurement between lines.

Before going to Lukas’ two-week appointment, Kurt and I guessed The Boy’s weight and went by The Price Is Right rules, highest guess that does not go over, to determine the winner. Kurt guessed ten pounds four ounces and I guessed ten pounds eleven ounces. I lost. I was half an ounce over. Boy weighed in at ten pounds ten and a half ounces. He measured twenty-two inches at that appointment.

On December thirtieth we took the boy in for an unscheduled appointment. It’s very common for breastfed babies to develop breast buds because of the hormones in the milk, and I knew this. What I didn’t know was that those buds would actually feel like solid lumps. The bigger concern however was that one lump was a little smaller than a dime and the other side was about the size of a quarter. My boy had lopsided man-boobs. The doctor said the unevenness was unusual but that there weren’t any signs of infection so he should be fine. He told us to watch for redness and warmth, basically to watch for signs of infection. The booby buds went down completely after about a week. There is no need for a manzier yet. At that appointment Mr. Man weighed in at eleven pounds four ounces and a half ounces.

At his two-month appointment yesterday, Lukas was in the seventy-fifth percentile across the board. He weighed in at thirteen pounds and eleven and a half ounces. He is twenty-four inches long and his head circumference is fifteen and three quarters. He did really well with the shots. He only cried briefly after each one. They hit him with force in the evening though. He woke screaming from a sound sleep and it was tough calming him down. He looked a lot like Sophia did after her shots only bigger and with less hair.

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Literary Girl’s Fish Smarts

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One of the books that Sophia has had me read several times in a row at bedtime is “A Fish Out Of Water” by Helen Palmer. In the book, a boy buys a fish and is instructed by the store owner to never feed the fish too much, “When you feed a fish, never feed him a lot. So much and no more! Never more than a spot, or something may happen!” The boy winds up feeding the fish too much and the fish keeps outgrowing the various bowls and pots the boy uses to contain him. After the fish outgrows a swimming pool, the boy calls the store owner to help him.

Yesterday morning I was downstairs in the gliding/rocking chair with my feet up on the matching autumn nursing Lukas. Sophia was busy buckling her blue sock monkey in Lukas’ swing just in front of me when she told me, “Momma, no Lukas in swing.”

“I won’t put Lukas in the swing. I’m feeding him.”

“Momma, feed Lukas.” She said. Then she added, “So much no more!”

Maybe I should stop talking about how big the boy is. I shouldn’t routinely point out that he has rolls everywhere, and I should probably skip the part about even his rolls have rolls.

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And on the Fourth Day She Smiles

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I didn’t really check out how well the other two and three year old children were separating from their parents, but let’s just say I didn’t hear any crying except from my child. It wasn’t a loud obnoxious tantrum, just a general sobbing upset. She clung to “friend”, but knew that it was useless to try and Velcro herself to my leg. She was whisked away with tears in her eyes…again.

I figured out why the tickling thing was a big enough deal for Sophia’s buddy to mention the previous day. The head of the camp who is also Sophia’s advocate (person who is supposed to ensure that we’re happy with the services we receive and that we’re informed of everything available to us) came up to me and showed me Sophia’s camp photo. I wasn’t supposed to receive it until the next day but she gave it to me as proof that Sophia does smile while at camp. I’m sure there were some smiles but I’m also fairly certain that she had to be tickled for the photo. How much you want to bet this mom knows her kid?

The snack for this day was a waffle face with apple slices to form a mouth and mini-marshmallow teeth. Sophia likes apple and I used to slice them for her and remove the skin when she was younger, then we moved up to merely slicing it. Now however she won’t touch an apple unless it’s whole. For the waffle face eyes, they used raisins and for a nose, they used half of one of those hotdog things you see in baby food jars. The other half of the hotdog thing was halved again to make the ears. Dried spaghetti was poked into the top of the waffle for some hair. It was cute and overall a better snack than the one from the day before. I’m still not impressed, but at least she’s eating in front of other kids.

Sophia’s buddy said that Sophia still wouldn’t talk in front of her but that the speech therapist was there and Sophia signed for her. I didn’t ask which speech therapist it was, so it could have been the one Sophia is already familiar with, It could have been the one who was assigned to us and used to come to our house.

Thursday:
Today…
I made a…Necklace
I ate a…Waffle and raisins (nothing she hasn’t had at home, except that at home the waffles are made from scratch of course and not Eggo Waffles…I’m just sayin’)
I liked…playing in the field

My day was… (in this part of the form the buddy circles one of three choices: fabulous, good, ok) Sophia’s buddy circled fabulous.

Under comments she wrote, “Still no talking! Although she’s doing great at camp! Signs please and more!”

necklace Sophia made at camp

This was the first time that Sophia seemed genuinely happy after camp. I asked her if she had a good day and she answered with an excited, “Yes!” and a big smile.

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Red Hot Phone Call

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Last week, after playing in the sunny park for a few hours I suggested to Sophia that we go to the water park area. She agreed. I wasn’t sure that I would end up there or that she would want to go to the water park part so I didn’t bother bringing her swimsuit, besides she’s two. Underwear work just fine at that age.

The previous week we had gone to the Bite of Seattle with Kurt and he had taken Sophia to the fountain there. She loved it. I thought that she might run around on her own here, but no. I had to do the same as Kurt did there and pick her up to get her wet. Not getting me equally wet was a challenge.

It had been quite a long day at the park so I asked her if she was ready to go and surprisingly she was. But she didn’t want to get dressed again. Underwear girl walked through the entire park. After walking through all the grassed area we reached the part of the paved parking lot we would need to cross to reach our truck. “Let’s put your shoes on.” I told her.

She shook her head, “No”

“The pavement is going to be hot on your feet, let’s get your shoes on.”

Again, she shook her head, “No”

“Do you want me to carry you across?”

“No,” she signaled again.

Ok, fine, have it your way. We took about five steps and I saw a worried look come across her face. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, peh-weez” she said reaching up.

Once in the truck she piled all the toys she insisted on bringing with her, but I had insisted needed to stay in the vehicle, on top of her. I bucked her in, walked around the truck to the driver’s side, and climbed in. She had arranged all her toys, just so, and was talking on her old school Fisher Price chatter phone with the old rotary dial. As I backed out of the parking spot and headed out of the lot I hear her say into the little red handset, “Bo, Moose, n’fend-EE, n’phone”. She was listing all the items she had brought with her, Bear, Moose, her blanket ‘friend’, and the phone. Then she said, “momma dw-eye-vin, pay pah-wk, HOT FEETIES!”.

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High Expectations of a Speech Evaluation

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Today is Sophia’s appointment for an evaluation on her lack of speech, finally. I reminded Kurt last night and he said to her, “When I get home tomorrow I expect you to be talking.” Imitating how she should sound he told her what he expected to hear. In a stuffy British accent he said, “Oh daddy, I expect your day was exceptional.”

You know how in cartoons if the character is baffled by the actions of another you’ll hear a tinny clinking sound and the character will blink several times. I swear Sophia did that. I think I even heard the blinking sound. “Are you going to say that when I get home tomorrow?” He asked her. “No” she said without any delay.

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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The bumps with the bumps around it

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Mid September I began taking water aerobics classes, and these are not the kind of classes you see all the little ol’ blue hairs talking in order to catch up on the latest gossip. These are real cardio workouts; though after the first class I was a little worried it wasn’t going to be the right speed for me. That was just the new season warm-up. I may actually be in a little over my head. :P

I’ve been taking Sophia to swim lessons consistently since she was about ten months and I’ve gotten used to the whole changing-clothes-with-a-toddler locker-room routine. In those locker-room moments everyone is chatting and it’s accepted that everyone is looking around while changing, mostly because we’re simultaneously corralling children while putting are bras and panties back on. Locker-room time after my aerobics class is completely different.

It’s been a while since I’ve been in a locker-room without a child. I guess I’ve forgotten the unspoken rules. When I dress at home I tend to look straight ahead because I’ve been dressing myself for a while now and I don’t really need to look at my legs going into my pants. That gets me some odd looks in a locker-room, even if my eyes are glossed over with a 30-yard stare and were fixated on a coat hooks beside someone. Whatever, I can adapt.

Not that I’ve ever been in a men’s bathroom but I get the feeling that the appropriate behavior for women dressing in a locker-room is similar to men at a urinal. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. Look at the floor. It’s a little silly considering after seeing them in a swimsuit the only secrets left are, how tight do they shave that bikini line and how big are their areolae. Neither are burning questions to me of anyone in my class. Really.

After my third class I was dressing in the appropriately coy manner with my towel wrapped around me. My chin was down to hold the towel up, which forces me to look at the lovely floor. Wouldn’t it be funny if the floor was a mirror? No? Posters on the floor would be nice. General reading material, I would even accept advertisements.

Anyway I overheard a conversation by three women in my class. It was a mother, her teenage or early twenty-something daughter, and aunt. I didn’t know they were related prior to the conversation but to facilitate my storytelling I’m letting you know ahead of time. Oh and I’ve changed the names not to protect anyone, but because I forgot them. :P

Girl to her mother: Aunt Faye says I should go to the doctor.
Mother: What for?
Girl: For the bumps with the bumps around it.
Mother: I told you to see a doctor about that a long time ago. Maybe you’ll listen to your aunt.

I’m not a nurse or a doctor, but for a place and time in which no one is supposed to look up at each other doesn’t this sound like it could be potentially embarrassing? Just for your information, none of this was whispered. It was said in normal speaking voices about three feet from me in a large echo-y locker-room, and I wasn’t hiding in a locker nor was I the only other person in the room.

The girl walked around a bank of lockers towards the exit but was still in the same room and if I looked up would probably be in my line of sight. I could hear talking but wasn’t paying attention to the words, then out of no where…

Mother loudly to the aunt: Are you telling her to use that wart remover?

Seriously, I don’t know how I didn’t just burst into laughter right there. I finished dressing and got all my stuff together to leave. Moving forward towards the door I put the straps of my bag on my shoulder and fished in my pocket for my keys. I looked up to scope out the exit route and passed right by the girl. Her left arm was raised and her right hand was lifting her left boob for her aunt to look underneath and both of them looked at me as if they just realized all this took place in public. Idiots.

I’m guessing the girl was titty-fucked and got an STD. What do you think?

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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