Tag Archives: words

Building Vocabulary

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Sophia’s current baby signs are: milk, more, eat, apple, banana and water.

Her actual spoken words consist of: hi, daddy, cheese, hello, no, bye, book, shoes, Petie (dog’s name), kitty, one, two, and apple.

I haven’t heard her say hi or daddy in months, and now instead of saying cheese she does the sign for banana (string cheese sort of peals like a banana). She has also said, “momma“, but only on a couple occasions.

She loves to pull out her book, “Go, Dog. Go!” by P.D. Eastman and babble through the pages until she reaches the somewhat odd scenes of conversations between two dogs. In the book, the dogs greet each other with hellos, and then one asks if the other likes her hat. The second dog always replies with, “I do not” and then they each say, “Good-by!” Upon reaching this section as Sophia reads to herself I hear, “Hello. No! Bye.”

The sound of her hellos range from, “Leh-Low” to a British sounding “Eh-Low” depending on how excited she is, sometimes it is a very clear “hello”. “Book” she began pronouncing, “buh” and now it’s more like “buhk”, and shoes are “shush”.

Sophia loves to help, so even though it slows us down so much that we might as well undo things, we let her whenever we can. Kurt began letting her help him feed the dogs. Her job was to dump the scoops of food into the dog bowls and Kurt would count them out. I think that’s where she learned the words, “one”, and “two”. She began counting two weeks before her birthday, but I’m not sure she truly understands the concept. The first time I heard her, she was flipping through the pages of a book saying, “un, two, un, two” as if she were marching in the military. Now I’ll catch her pointing at things and saying, “un, two, two, two”. That’s how she counts to four.

Her favorite book for a while was, “Mr. Brown can Moo, Can you?” and from that book I heard her say the sounds, “klopp” and “buzz” a few times. Now she really likes a new potty book I purchased a couple months ago, “A Potty for Me!” by Karen Katz. From that book she says, “uh oh”, and “whoosh”. She’ll read the book to herself and say those words on the page they actually appear.

If I count the four sounds, but don’t count the word apple twice (once for the sign and once for the actual word), there are only twenty-three words for the nearly twenty six month old. *sigh* Next on the vocabulary list is Antidisestablishmentarianism. At least it’ll be an impressive word. :P

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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Mute white food elitist

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I had been dreading it since the last checkup, six months ago. At every Baby Wellness checkup I feel like I say, ‘no’ to the majority of the baby milestone questions. This time (October 8th) was much better. I only said no to two questions: Is she eating a balanced diet?

I told the nurse, “no” and said that Sophia only eats “white foods”. I received a confounded look. I hear all these TV and radio ads explaining how to ensure a balanced diet by eating a variety of colors. Apparently, not everyone goes by the rainbow method. Judging by the initial look she probably thought I meant that were a bunch of racist pricks but acknowledge that our food is inferior. That’s not what I meant.

I cited examples, “bananas, apples, rice, and bread”. You know, white foods. It doesn’t matter how small I chop carrots to mix in, Sophia still eats rice one grain at a time, unless it’s clumped together and she is sure the entire clump is rice. The nurse asked if Sophia likes pasta. “Sort of”, I replied. She suggested sneaking carrots in by pureeing them with spaghetti sauce. I guess the nurse is colorblind. Marinara is RED. Because Sophia is a white food elitist, the nurse also suggested giving a multi vitamin. I don’t think she fully understands the problem. New things are bad and flintstones vitamins don’t come in white. Despite Sophia’s anti food color-ism she has moved from the 20th percentile in weight to the 50th. She is currently 26.4 pounds. She still in the 75th percentile for height at 35 inches.

The other question that received a resounding “no” was, “Does she have more than twenty words?” Not even if I count the baby signs that she uses. Sophia has won the recommendation of a speech therapist. We’re currently waiting for them to call to schedule the appointment.

Her hearing is fine. She understands commands and can follow a two-step request. She simply doesn’t speak. I’m not worried about her intelligence at all, it’s just frustrating as hell. I hope that we get something other than, “well just work with her”. I don’t know what else I can do. I don’t know how else to work with her. Some suggest videos, to which I respond, “how did we ever learn to speak before TV was invented?” Others suggest it’s because it’s just the two of us all day. I don’t know where they get that idea since I’m never home. I spent my whole summer at the park with Sophia and we were not alone. I also take her swimming twice a week where she hears me chatting with other moms and she receives interaction with them and the instructor.

Previously the nurse suggested that I probably anticipate her needs and therefore she doesn’t need words. The thing is, her needs are the first words she had. As soon as she learned the signs for milk, apple, and banana I forced her to use them when she wants food outside of meal time. I accept signs for things because if she were a deaf child those would be her words. It’s something she has learned in order to get a specific item, but the things she learned to sign she never attempts to say even though I say use word before giving her anything.

One of Sophia’s swim instructors overheard me talking to another mom about her lack of words and suggested that I just not give her things until she says the word. Yeah I did that after her eighteen-month appointment up until twenty-two months. You want to know what happens when I do that with my child? Four months of meltdowns and screaming. I did this with non-essentials and no words came of it. Sophia would have a thirty-minute fit and then move on. There’s no prying words our of this one.

And if I hear just one more person insisting that I just enjoy the wordlessness because I’m going to regret it when she starts talking – I’m just going to fuckin’ scream. Oh and I’ll send you my mute toddler because clearly you have no idea how frustrating it is to have such a demanding little person that won’t speak.

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Vocabulary building potty training books

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I attended the same ‘living with baby’ class at the hospital a few months after leaving my job that I had gone to while on maternity leave. There was a mom there with a set of fraternal twins, girl and boy. They were about a month older than Sophia who was about eleven months. Their mom mentioned how much they loved story time and that they would sit intently listening to stories. I was hopeful that Sophia would soon act the same. Then she mentioned that they had been that way for quite a while. I didn’t feel as optimistic.

Finally, about three months ago, at nineteen months, Sophia began to show interest in books beyond spreading them all over the floor. Baby BooksAt first there were two that she carried around with her everywhere, one called “Happy Baby Words” by Rodger Priddy that is in English and Spanish and another called “Helping” published by Berryland Books. The second one is supposed to come in a pack of three or four books but Sophia picked this one out at a secondhand store. It’s all of four pages and very cute at first. After several hundred readings, it begins to drag.

Days later Sophia added two more books to her carry everywhere collection. The letters “S” and “T” from the Baby Einstein box collection were not to be left out of anything. I don’t know if it’s the shape of the letters or the little animal pictures on the front that draw her to these two particular books, but I’ve shuffled them within their box and she always picked the same two books out of the bunch and it shows. Those are the stickiest and most worn two books in the box.

Two weeks ago, on July sixth, I attempted potty training her for two hours. Kurt and I had heard some special news report where the doctor said the child is ready/can start being trained when he or she starts hiding when they go potty and starts showing a preference for being dry. I was excited. I am so tired of diaper changes and having her kick me the entire time I try to change her.

I put a gate up in our downstairs, blocking the rest of the house. I read the two potty books I bought at Half Price Books weeks prior, “Once Upon a Potty” by Alona Frankel and “Sara’s Potty” by Harriet Ziefert. I showed her the potty that we’ve had sitting in the main bathroom for weeks. I asked her to sit on it, and she did. I thought, “Wow this’ll be a piece of cake.” I changed her diaper, let her run nekkid from the waist down, and set a timer for twenty minutes. I figured I’d have her sit on her potty and read the potty books to her regardless of whether she had to go or not.

She peed before the timer went off. I expected that, really I did. I cleaned it up and set the timer again. Again she peed before the timer went off, so the next time I set it for ten minutes. She wanted to eat so we went upstairs, half nekkid, and she went again before the timer. She peed on the chair and it spilled onto the hardwood floor. I moved her to a different chair, cleaned up the mess, and then she went again on the second chair. I hadn’t even reset the timer yet. I moved her back to the first chair, cleaned up the mess, and reset the timer. After she finished eating, we went back downstairs to the tiled floor where she promptly peed again this time slipping on the tile. I was done. Clearly this wasn’t working. I simply couldn’t get her to the potty on time and she had no clue what I was wanting.

After all that she dropped the letter books for the two potty books. I view this as a sign that the experience didn’t scar her for life. Unfortunately, she’s using the books to scar me. Her favorite seems to be the one that annoys the crap out of me, “Once Upon a Potty”. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to read it, probably twenty times a day. It’s pure torture.

I like some of the ideas used in the book like naming some of the body parts other than the potty focus, but the names used for the private parts and elimination are irritating. I mean who the hell calls a vagina a pee-pee? And this is a book specifically for girls. I may not use the more medial terms, urinate and defecate, for elimination but I also don’t use wee-wee and poo-poo. Those are silly words. I changed the words that I read and had to tell Kurt what we will be using.

Kurt reading the potty book: …And just like you, Prudence has a body, and this body has many nice and useful parts: A head for thinking…
Kurt calling to me: What are we calling it?
Me: A VAH-GUH-EYE-NAH!
Kurt back to reading: A Vaahhh-gu-EYE-Nuh for making pee

The board book version of Mr. Brown Can MOO! Can You? By Dr. Seuss has also made her list. Someone told me that animal sounds count as words, so I’m crediting this book with adding two new words to Sophia’s limited vocabulary, “Kopp” and “Biz” (Klopp and Buzz). “Kopp” is of course the sound of horse feet and “Biz” is the sound that bees make. She only uses these words when reading the book herself. She doesn’t use them on the correct pages, but they’re associated with this particular book. This brings her total number of words (including signs) to a whopping thirteen. Not very impressive.

Her current signs are: milk, more, eat, apple, and banana. Her actual spoken words consist of: daddy, hi, cheese, cat, bye, momma, and now klopp and buzz. I’m waiting for that vocabulary explosion I keep hearing about. According to an article I found in Scientific America Kurt is enabling this explosion by telling Sophia that “Friend” must stay home because he is agoraphobic, so I should be hearing an explosion of words by her second birthday…in two months.

McMurray says. But “to explain the big picture, it’s much, much simpler. … Anytime you have more difficult than easy words [the learning curve] will have this property.”

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Murphy’s Law of Triple Disaster

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The first disaster that initiated the rule of ‘everything happens in threes’ was that I received a letter from the county auditor. They never got our marriage papers. Something happened to them on their way from the courthouse to the county auditor and if it turns out our mail carrier works that neighborhood, I’m going to scream. The auditor has the license request on file but no license so I can’t get a certified copy required to change my name or get health insurance. Kurt has already initiated the health insurance paperwork through his employer, so I have insurance, but I’ll loose it in 60 days if this isn’t resolved by then. I called the judge that performed the ceremony and he wrote us a letter to give to Kurt’s employer. Hopefully that will keep me insured if this takes longer than 60 days.

On Friday, I took Sophia to the doctor for her eighteen-month baby wellness check up and it went really well. The nurse went through her usual routine of asking a bunch of milestone type questions and I felt awesome because I could answer “yes” to most of them. Does she drink from a cup? Yep. Does she walk with confidence? Absolutely! Does she help take her clothes off? Yes, especially her socks. She also tries to put her clothes back on by herself. Does she put words together to form phrases? She only has three words, “Da-DEE”, “key”, and “hi”. “Da-DEE” is obviously Kurt. “Key” is a Sophia derivative of kitty, but for Sophia means any four legged furry creature that ranges in size from mouse to moose. Our husky and malamute are both “key”. “Hi” is a greeting only reserved for Kurt, our indoor ‘key’, and I. “Hi” is usually accompanied by vigorous, almost frantic, waving. She’ll even wave at the cat, and he’s been known to wave back, though he doesn’t seem as happy. “Hi” is also occasionally followed by, “Da-DEE”, which for the nurse counts as a phrase. Yay!

The doctor appointment disaster hit when the nurse left and the doctor came in. His first question for me was, “Do you have any concerns?” Up until this point, my only concern was Sophia’s lack of words. Words have finally started to spring up. She’s still behind in that area according to my personal chart, but between her three words and the three baby signs she uses at least we’re communicating better. So my concern this time was something that had been bothering me since Sophia was ten or eleven months old, the bouts of what looked like pure baby rage. Only her rage is completely silent. Even after I told the doctor’s answer to Kurt, he still thinks Sophia is just experiencing a surge of adrenalin.

Three things made Kurt’s explanation not sit well with me. First, the occurrences are random. There are many time that there isn’t even a cause for frustration or anger at all. Second, when Sophia tenses up it’s ALL of her muscles including her jaw. Something about a toddler’s jaw locked in an open position without her making any nose seemed very odd. She’s a toddler, when a toddler’s mouth is open sound comes out, ALWAYS. Third, Sophia acts as if nothing just happened after a ‘surge of adrenalin’. I would think that a toddler would take at least a few minutes to calm down after an adrenalin surge.

The description I gave of Sophia’s episodes of muscle tensing led the doctor to confirm my fear. Those not from a surge of adrenalin. They’re seizures. He told me what type of seizure, but for the life of me, I can’t remember. It’s probably a good thing though, otherwise I’d be freaking out at all the descriptions, causes, treatments, and side effects listed on webmd.com. It may seem odd but part of me is just relieved that it isn’t fits of rage. I feared having to take her to years of therapy to control her anger or something, but of course, seizures bring a different set of fears. We just have to wait and watch that they don’t get worse. I hope that this is something that will disappear with age, preferably before she starts school.

Later the same day I received a call from the veterinary clinic. Chelan, our ten-year-old husky has been drinking water as if we live in the desert. She’s drinking about two and a half gallons of water a day! The results from her blood and urine tests had come back and the vet narrowed down the possibilities to the three most likely. The first is a chemical imbalance in the brain. We love Chelan but she has to be one of the dumbest dogs ever. She survives in our household on cuteness alone. Since bringing her home from the pound, we suspected a malfunctioning brain. The second possible cause is a malfunctioning gland, the name of which escapes me but it’s near the thyroid. The third is a form of cancer. In the morning, I’ll be setting up an appointment for further testing. It’ll take another week to get those results.

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George Carlin turned us into necrophiliacs

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Last night Kurt and I were watching one of George Carlin’s old comedy acts. I’ve seen them all before. I’m a huge fan of Uncle George and was in a odd daze for a couple days after his death. Kurt thought that he had found an act that we hadn’t seen yet, but it turned out he simply didn’t rate it on Netflix. It didn’t matter. I love Carlin. I may not laugh at every bit like I used to, but I appreciate and enjoy it just the same. The comedy bit we heard last night had the seven dirty words skit plus three add on words and an informative history of the word fuck. It turns out, according to Uncle George, that the word fuck in old English originally mean to hit something as with a stick. It has somehow morphed into a sexual word. Some people combine sex and violence as Uncle George acknowledges, but it seems odd to marry the two with one word, unless describing a specific act. Towards the end of his fuck tirade he says,

“The person who thought up the slogan, ‘Make Love, Not War,’ . . . his job was over that day. He could’ve retired at that moment. If it would’ve been me, I would’ve walked away. So long, I’m goin’ to the beach. You guys work it out.”

“Now I have a slogan, too. It’s not as euphonious. It doesn’t roll off the tongue. It’s ‘Make Fuck, Not Kill.’ Substitute the word ‘fuck’ for the word ‘kill’ in all of our writings. I’d love to see it. Just for awhile. Just for a year or so. And we would change.”

He gives some examples of the switched words like, “my horse broke his leg, guess I have to fuck him now”.

Another comedian I like to watch is Jeff Dunham. He’s a ventriloquist with several puppets. My favorite is Achmed the Dead Terrorist. Achmed is easily upset by audiences that laugh at jokes told about him and will say, “Silence! I kill you!” Except that it sounds like, “I keel you!” which is what we currently yell at our cat when he sits just outside our wide-open bedroom door and meows incessantly. Thanks to the two comedians, we’ve decided it might be more effective if we yell, “Silence! I fuck you!” as our threat to the cat.

We also decided that instead of yelling, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you” when we’re upset at each other or the cat we shall kill and then fuck. It seems only humane.

November, 30 posts in 30 days nablopomo.com

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Baby basketball belly

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This morning Kurt put his hand around my basketball shaped belly and said, “dribble dribble”. I thought he was referring to the drip marks on my nightgown and responded with a whiny, “It’s soap!” The new liquid hand soap dispenser in our bathroom shoots soap across the room instead of down into the cupped hand as a normal dispenser should. In my case, my belly catches the soap before it hits the wall or floor. Kurt laughed, “Did you think I was calling you messy?” Yes! – *insert boo-boo lip* He was actually just pointing out that it looks as if I’ve swallowed a basketball (my words not his).

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