Will Goo-Goo-Gah Get My Daughter into Harvard?

(First published on parentsociety.com, 11 April 2013 -- http://www.parentsociety.com/parenting/toddler/will-goo-goo-gah-get-my-daughter-into-harvard/)  

A week before my daughter had her 12-month wellness visit, I sat down to fill out the “12-Month Questionnaire” for the pediatrician.  As I’ve been dutifully filling these out every few months, I have come to believe they’re not designed to assess my daughter’s development, but rather they’re really a judgment on our parenting skills, or lack thereof.

“She doesn’t play patty-cake!” I said to my husband.  “We’ve never shown her patty-cake, so how can I respond whether she mimics us or not?  Quick, wake her up and show her patty-cake!”

With each passing visit, however, I get less insane, and instead wait until she’s awake to show her the latest “patty-cake” activity I’ve neglected to expose her to.  But recently, for the 12-month-failing-to-parent questionnaire, one question asked, “Does your baby say at least one word in addition to ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’?”  With the underlying implication being, your child should already be saying Mama or Dada, unless you’re the worst parent on the planet.  With great shame, I checked the box for “Not yet”, and slunk under the rug where I belonged.

But when I met with the pediatrician in person, I babbled on about how chatty our daughter is, how she never gives it a break unless she’s asleep, how she chatters away to the cats and her animals and even her blocks and trucks, and then quietly added, “We just can’t quite discern any individual words, yet.”

Then I quickly added, “And we have lots of books, too.”  Of course, we’re in a phase right now where there’s a moratorium on reading, because she just wants to chew on the books and it becomes more of a wrestling match than an enjoyable learning and bonding experience, but they’re in the house and if you believe in osmosis, then knowledge is just seeping in everywhere, even the couch cushions.

So, the question is, is our daughter’s communication delay her fault for not enunciating clearly?  Or more likely, is it our fault for not painting our walls with the alphabet, and running “C is for cookie” on a continuous loop, or for being better listeners so we could decode goo-gah to mean, “More toast, please, mother dear.”

As a stay-at-home mom, I babble to her incessantly, so maybe I’ve failed to even give her a chance to get a word in.  Maybe I need to have my own personal quiet time and let the poor child speak!  Oh, I can just imagine that her first words, after months of trying, will be, “Well, it’s about time!”

When a friend recently forwarded me an article about Jill Lany, a psychologist at Notre Dame, who was studying grammar and babies (http://io9.com/5867029/babies-understand-grammar-long-before-they-learn-how-to-speak) and had learned that they can understand relationships between words even at 12 months, I suddenly felt like I should reach out and see just how much damage I’d done to my daughter already.  Lany believes that even without words, babies understand context.  If you say, “Do you want a yippity-boom-de-boom,” the child knows by the context that a “yippity-boom-de-boom” is a thing or object.  Conversely, if you say, “We’re changity-chang-shoo-bopping,” the child can understand this is an action; albeit a slightly ridiculous one unless you’re reenacting “Grease.”

Then, as I started digging more into linguistics for babies, I was swamped with the theories of Noam Chomsky, Elizabeth Bates, Michael Tomasello, and others, and came across daunting terms like “universal grammar” (http://www.nsf.gov/news/special_reports/linguistics/learn.jsp) and “innate language modules” (http://www.princeton.edu/~adele/MTLngNotInstinct.pdf) and “social-pragmatic theory” (http://elanguage.net/journals/index.php/pragmatics/article/viewArticle/302); all of which left me feeling overwhelmed and vastly under-parenting.

But, after all the research and theories and questionnaires, the bottom line is, have we completely botched any chance of our daughter getting into Harvard because we didn’t run flashcards with her in the tub and didn’t encourage her to practice the umlaut or ayn sounds in afternoon German and Arabic lessons?  Instead of Harvard, is she now destined to attend “Ethel’s House of Schooling”?  As she’s waiting to get her diploma, from Ethel herself, will she glance out into the crowd and look at us with great disdain and disappointment, or just give a little smile and whisper to Bob, standing next to her, “Those are my parents.  They’re good-intentioned, but a bit feeble in their parenting, so I could never fulfill my dream of going to Harvard.”

Well, Lany, Chompsky, Bates, Tomasello, et al., while I appreciate your studies, my reality is that however my daughter’s going to learn phonology, grammar, syntax, context, semantics, or any other language terms, she will do it at her own pace, in her own time.  And while I could sit for hours with her saying, “cat, cat, cat” until she repeats it or throttles me, I would rather try to enjoy our rambling babble conversations while I can; although, if you have any suggestions for getting her through the book-eating phase, I’d be more than happy to utilize them.  In the meantime, we’re going to hold off on sentence-diagramming-for-one-year-olds and instead get her fully up to speed on Itsy Bitsy Spider, so we can at least get a passing grade on our next questionnaire.

My Top 8 Pre-Parenthood Myths

(Previously published on parentsociety.com:  http://www.parentsociety.com/parenting/my-8-most-egregious-pre-parenthood-myths/)

Think back, however far you need to, to those starry-eyed, ignorance-laden, pre-parenthood days. Remember when all your friends and relatives with kids were whining about how their lives had changed, how they hadn’t seen a movie since the mid-90s, how they couldn’t remember a year in which they weren’t changing someone’s diaper, how they had to start scheduling sex on the calendar between ballet practice and the orthodontist? Admit it, you’d listen to their plight and then think to yourself, “Not me; I’m not letting my life go down the tubes.” And then baby arrives; and without warning you find yourself fully enmeshed in “the tubes.”

In my pre-parenthood naïveté, I was positive about several things; and in hindsight I have to thank my girlfriends who already had kids for not falling off their chairs chortling. Like good girlfriends, they just smiled, sipped their merlot quietly and inwardly said, “How cute. Now, let the learning begin.”

1. I’ll keep my schedule

This one I was adamant about.  I wasn’t going to alter going to dinner, or going to an art gallery, or traveling just because we were now parents.  Our child would just have to “learn” to accommodate Mommy and Daddy’s interests.  I mean, how many times was I dragged into a boring old bookstore when I was a kid?

So when our daughter was about four-months-old, we went out to dinner with friends.  After putting up with the requisite cooing and being passed around, our darling little daughter decided to throw a fit of monumental proportions, involving all manner of bellowing and multiple shades of purple.  Our response initially was to try to calm the screaming banshee, singing, rocking, taking outside, begging, pleading, but the decibels just increased.  So, instead, we just stuffed our food in, tucked tail, grabbed the stroller, and ran.  Of course, on the five-minute walk to the car, she fell asleep, but we figured it wasn’t worth risking a relapse of purple, so we went home.

2.  I’ll keep up my looks

This one’s just laughable.  When “get a shower” becomes the highlight of your day, and often an impossible one at that, sometimes you have to just accept that there will be days without highlights, not to mention hair brushes.  In which case, “pee” and “brush teeth” become just as welcome.

3.  I won’t talk baby-talk

Yes you will, and you will love it.  It may not be the annoying “Who’s my wittle cuddwy wuddwy baby waby?” (and let’s all hope not), but you’ll have your own baby-speak and silly voices and exclamations of delight over a good morning poo.  Just accept it.

4.  My child will sleep through the night by day 8

If he does, tell me how you did it!  Write a book!  Makes millions!  For the rest of us, accept the sleepless nights and ask for help before you find yourself sleeping in the shower with your socks on.

5.  I won’t have the screaming child

I always figured that if my child decided to have a meltdown while I was shopping or out in public, I would calmly and quickly remove her from the area so as to not bother other people.  Of course, I didn’t factor in standing in line to buy groceries, or being stuck on a plane, or being on a tour of the Royal Albert Hall in London.  Apparently meltdowns don’t always happen at convenient-slip-away points.

6.  I won’t bribe my child into good behavior

This one’s a toughy, but often out of sleeplessness, exhaustion or mere frustration, you may find yourself reaching for the “have a cookie/pony/lifesize-Millenium-Falcon” card, but stay strong.  The last thing this world needs is another spoiled child. Now, who’s turn is it to feed our pony?

7.  I won’t cuss in front of my child

Try driving in Kuwait without cussing.  Not possible.   But other than that, there are lots of life events that may cause a *bleep* to slip out.  Don’t flagellate yourself, but work on changing the behavior before baby starts soaking it in.  The last thing you want is for Grandma to overhear her first grandchild say, “Where are my $&*(@#*! rainboots?”

8.  Our sex life won’t change

Sex life?  Um, yeah, right.  I think I need to re-address points #2 and #4 before reviving #8.  But I hear that once the child is in high school, things are back to normal.  Only fourteen years to go, dear!

Lessons from Louie: How the Kitten Prepared Me for Parenting

First published on parentsociety,com, 25 February 2013 -- http://www.parentsociety.com/pregnancy/adoption-parenting/how-my-kitten-prepared-me-for-parenting/  

Many of us first-time parents try to get a leg up on things and attempt to master some parenting skills before the baby arrives.  We utilize observation, classes, books, articles, videos, and in my case, adopting Louie, our handi-capable kitten.

We got Louie three years ago when we were living in Cairo.  I literally scooped him up off the streets when he was about eight-weeks-old.  I chose him, out of the millions of street cats, because I watched him dragging his rear legs behind him as he crawled under a car and knew I couldn’t leave him like that.

After examinations, x-rays, and visits to multiple vets around Cairo, it was determined that he had no broken bones, but some type of nerve damage and it would probably be permanent.  But other than dragging his back legs around, in a GI Joe-like-way, he seemed fine.  So, with no hesitation, we introduced him to our two American cats, Chuckles and Ricky, and our family became five.

In hindsight, it was like the universe sent us Louie to help prepare us for parenting.  Suddenly having a handi-capable kitten in the house, meant “kitten proofing” things so he wouldn’t get his legs caught up.  We had to address food and litterbox issues because the nerve damage caused bouts of spontaneous poopings.  After much trial and error, and a lot of OxyClean, we found that mixing pumpkin or overcooked rice in his canned food gave him the fiber he needed to control matters, and keeping a blanket in his favorite sleep spots, helped with clean-up issues.

I did initially wonder whether he’d be able to get up on the couch or the bed, and had visions of kitten-ramps throughout the house.  But truly where there’s a will, there’s a way, and his way typically involves a little jump and then climbing the side of the chair/couch/bed like a ladder until he gets to his desired spot.  He plays hard and he sleeps hard and we decided early on to not make his injury any big deal.  In fact, we’ve become so used to it that when friends come over there’s frequently a pause in the conversation when Louie drags himself through the living room.  Sometimes I forget he’s an anomaly, and glance around to see what folks are gaping at, and then I say, “Oh, that’s just Louie.”

Prior to working out the stomach issues, there were some moments of frustration, as in any new parenting situation.  The night before the social worker was flying in to Kuwait from Germany to do our home study for our adoption, I discovered that Louie had soiled one of the armchairs and the living room rug, so I scrubbed my little heart out.  And another time, I actually found myself on the floor, under the dining table, outfitted with a flashlight and a roll of toilet paper.  I was cleverly using the flashlight to cast shadows on wayward turds left behind by a certain Egyptian feline on our dark rug.  Yes, I was Mrs. Croft: Turd Hunter.

Fast forward two years, and I’m holding my newborn daughter after her birth mother did all the work.  I gazed at this amazing being before me and despite flashes of having no idea how to bathe her, forgetting what a swaddle was, or wondering how soon I’d have to learn a lullaby, I felt like we were going to be okay.  Our lessons from Louie had prepped us in the most important ways; patience, flexibility, kindness, and a little more patience.  So with those in hand, a case of OxyClean, and my Turd Hunter flashlight at the ready, we knew we could handle this parenting thing.  Now we just had to introduce Bean to her little brother Louie and let the lessons continue.

Spoon-a-Phobia, and Other Fun Mealtime Activities with Babies

First published on parentsociety.com, 18 February 2013 -- http://www.parentsociety.com/lifestyle/food/my-baby-has-spoon-a-phobia/  

My daughter hates the spoon.  She’s 10-months-old, and has always been wary of it.  But in the last few months, her wariness has become laced with loathing.  This has made feeding time marginally difficult (read: “highly frustrating”).

She’s not afraid of it and she loves to play with it and bang it around and chew on it readily, but slop some food on it and it becomes The Thing To Avoid.  Her lips lock, her head turns, and her arms start spinning like propellers.  At this point, we have three options, cease spoon usage, attempt to sneak the spoon in between spinning propellers and get it into open mouth while she’s laughing or bellowing, or attempt a distraction with a chew toy on one side and a bean-filled spoon on the other awaiting an opening, literally.  More often than not, they all seem to result in beans on bib, beans on wall, beans on Mommy, and no beans in baby.

We’ve tried metal spoons, plastic spoons, rubber spoons, and have even gone so far as to fashion our own spoons out of other materials.  But she’s on to our conniving ways and quickly realizes that a spoon, is a spoon, is a spoon, regardless of the substance.

In desperation, I reached out to the Internet to see what wisdom it could provide.  I watched with mild amusement several videos on “Introducing solids”.  They all showed a spotless kitchen, a happy mommy, and a super eager baby opening his mouth for each heaping spoonful in perfect mimicry of a baby bird.  Not helpful.  Where was the trashed kitchen, the mommy with green bean puree in her hair and a bit of mashed banana stuck to her forehead, complete with the tight-lipped stubborn (albeit adorable) baby glaring at the spoon like it was here to steal her favorite mouse?

So, what is a mother to do?  Quite simply, adapt; I just made everything finger-food.  Whatever she can’t pick up herself, I just plop in her mouth using my fingers.  Yes, it’s messy, but so are propeller-beans.  And my hands are far easier to clean than walls and the ceiling.  I’ve had to bulk up some of the purees I have with rice or wheat cereal, so I can make little green-bean-balls or apple-balls, before popping it in her mouth.  And as long as no one comes to the door or the phone rings, resulting in goopy handles and phones, we’re all good.

My husband, however, refuses to give in to her no-spoon no-way insistence.  He tries everything to get the dollop of food resting on the spoon into her mouth, including, but not limited to, the dual-spoon-distraction method (which only works if you can get by the arms, see above), using the high-flying airplane act, getting her to laugh and then shoving it in, and my favorite, the spackle method.  I’m not sure how much she’s actually consuming, but they seem to enjoy it and since he cleans up afterwards, I keep my mouth shut tight (as if there were a dreaded spoon in my proximity).

I can’t deny watching my friends’ babies gobble up food by the spoonful with great fascination.  I almost feel like I’m watching a different species.  So that’s how it’s supposed to work, I think to myself.  It is just like the happy mommies and baby birds on the videos.  But, in the long run, as long as our daughter’s trying new foods, getting nutrients in her, and we don’t resort to the use-the-spoon-have-a-pony method, I think we’ll be fine.  Parenthood is all about adaptation and flexibility.  Oh, and for future reference, dried green bean puree turns to cement with 24 hours, so having a mop with an extra long handle helps, too.

17 Things I’ve Learned About Being a New Mom

First appeared on parentsociety.com, 15 February 2013 -- http://www.parentsociety.com/parenting/todays-family/mom/things-ive-learned-about-being-a-new-mom/  

As my daughter and I were muddling through the beginnings of our relationship and getting used to our new roles, I began learning new things about myself, my limitations, my strengths, my ever-growing weaknesses, and started seeing everything anew through my kaleidoscopic, perpetually-smudged, new-mommy-glasses.

• I learned that extreme exhaustion has a taste; sawdust with just a hint of dried cumin, for some reason.
• Exhaustion swells the eyelids and makes it feel as if I’m using them to store grit, like a highly confused chipmunk; it also swells the tongue to twice its size (or so it feels).
• I lost the ability to stand still; even when not holding the baby, my body automatically rocks side to side (could be a problem in a china shop).
• The books say that newborn babies sleep 14 to 18 hours a day, they just neglect to mention that’s broken down into 34-minute naps over a never-ending 24-hour period.
• I had visions of carting a sleeping angel around in her car seat as I efficiently moved through the house getting things done, but this is a fallacy beyond measure.
• Newborns cannot be bought; no matter how many ponies or brunches with Cinderella or safari trips I offer.  If she’s not interested in being soothed and put back to sleep at 4:12 a.m., it ain’t happening.  (Tears from mommy are equally ineffective.)
• I’m learning to severely limit my expectations of daily accomplishments, and just be happy with a shower, a clean baby, and maybe reading an email or two (this was originally entitled, “New-Mommy Observations - Week Three”, and in all honesty, it was actually written in week five; don’t push it.)
• I had visions of mommy and baby lying down happily for their daily naps, but I have yet to master the ability to fall asleep immediately and maximize my allotted 34 minutes.
• I had several moments where friends, and even my husband,  pointed out that I’ve asked the same question three times, or made a nonsensical observation, to which I point out that my reduced brain-capacity has left me with frighteningly low reserves and frankly I’m just delighted that my body continues to breathe without my having to think about it.
• The name of the daily game is, “Guess my issue.”  Babies have five basic issues at this stage: hunger (therefore feed me, faster!), full diaper (get it off, get it off, get it off!), low-cuddle-quotient (hold me, or I’ll die!), pain/discomfort (toes are bent in the footie, diaper’s too tight, I’ve drooled in my ear, etc.), or stimulation (either too much, so take me in a dark quiet room to detox, or not enough, so show me something interesting before I collapse from boredom).  If none of those soothe the screaming fussies, then I can’t help myself and bring out the brunching with ponies and Cinderella card again (apparently I’m not a quick learner at this stage).
• I found a new sense of peace and zen-like calm in the ability to do dishes (which meant I’d passed the baby on to my mother or Daddy for a mini-break).
• I learned I had the ability to quickly adapt to a one-armed lifestyle, and other than using a curling iron, have come across few insurmountable obstacles.
• When I would tell people the baby’s on a three-hour feeding schedule, their faces light up and they exclaim, “Oh how nice, three-hours to sleep is great!”  But I had to point out that a three-hour feeding schedule broke down in to verbal request from awoken child (i.e., screaming), diaper change, bottle prep, feed sleepy baby, burp, feed more, place in bassinet and soothe with various shhhh’ing or zoom-zoom-zoom’ing combined with the modified panini-press, invented by Daddy during those first few nights after the hospital.  All of this resulted in a two-hour nap on a good day.
• I spoke to more strangers in the first four weeks of my daughter's life than in the previous ten years; and found great comfort in the sleepless misery of others; impromptu support groups meet at Target check-outs across the country daily.
• It’s never helpful when you complain about your exhaustion and someone would retort, “I told you so!”  Was I supposed to reply, “You’re right, I never should have had children.”  Instead, please just empathize and offer to take the two to seven a.m. shift.
• I fell in love with two baby products more than any other; the Baby Bjorn carrier and the SwaddleMe swaddlers.  My love of both was in their ability to soothe a fussy baby with seemingly magical powers.  Bless you both!  (Plus, I could even do dishes while wearing Bean like a barnacle.)
• I started to think that mommyhood was nothing more than a pyramid scheme.  Before the baby, other moms would regale you with delightful stories of angelic children, cupcake parties, adorable giggles and smiles that would melt your heart.  After the baby, they chortle at you when you begged for advice on how to soothe a newborn to sleep and suddenly reveal, “Oh, Bob didn’t sleep through the night until he was five and a half!”, or “Marylou would scream and turn purple every night from eleven to two a.m.,” or “I had to learn how to sleep while walking in circles with the twins strapped to my chest for three years.”  I figured they’d let me in the club if I could find some poor sap to join the ranks behind me.  Now, who do I know who doesn’t have kids yet?