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If memory serves me correct, Taylor said her first words as early as four or five months. Her first babble … um … words were the ‘ol English standby “mum mum mum” and “da da da.” Yes. Despite the fact that since she had been six-months old when I began staying at-home with her her entire day while her mother was a work, she called for mommy first. At least I can brag that I heard her say it almost a full five days before Adrianne did. In addition, my version of this story is that she said “mum” first because I kept telling her that Mum was on her way home from work– forget that I incisively repeated “dad” everyday afterwards and she did not say repeat it for at least two more weeks.
By the time she was walking, around nine months, give or take a week, she was saying a few more single syllable words like “ca” for cat and “ou” for out. By twelve months, she had an impressive vocabulary. We all thought she would begin stringing words together by her sixteenth month, but that didn’t happen. In many ways, her language skills dropped off all together and she stopped saying many of the words she had been saying. The books I read all agreed that this was normal. Children at this age are rapidly developing fine and gross motor skills between the ages of 12 and 18 months and many times they stop speaking all together.
For months I have not paid too much attention to her vocabulary usage. I have been impressed by what she knows, what she can remember, and how well she follows directions, whether she can or chooses to verbalize what she is doing or not. However, the other day I spoke with three friends and family members over the phone. Each one asked the standard questions including “Is Taylor talking, yet?” My answer was and is “sort of.” She does know scores of words, and she even says quite a few. More importantly, she is beginning to string two or three words together. But what I did not know is how many words she actually knows.
A quick look online shows that between 12 to 18 months a child may be able to use upwards to twenty words. Incidentally, at 12 months a child may only know up to five words; at 14 months a child may only acquire two additional words into their vocabulary reservoir; but by 24 months a child may know up to 200 words, although they may only use 50 to 75 of their known words. Sufficed to say, I was thoroughly impressed when, over a two-day period, I wrote down every single word Taylor used and understood. For example, she knows the word “pacifier” but has yet to say it. Taylor’s word usage, as of January 16, 2009, is 125 words. For those keeping track, that’s well over the average 50 to 75 words suggested by the online site I quickly reviewed this afternoon, www.babycenter.com.
For posterity sake, here are the words in the order she said them to me over the two days: mom, dad, Simon, grandpa, grandma, stitchy (our cat), baby, out, go, up, wall, bottle, more, no, stop, kitty, candle, light, on, snow, pen, two, purple, blue, green, Taylor or “T”, meaning I or me; shoe, book, down, cold, socks, shirt, pants, diaper, shoes, jacket, hair, comb, hands, song, truck, van, chair, five, mickey, as in Mickey Mouse; nap, Mary, flower, leaf, fish, water, juice, pasta, milk, cracker, dog, cat, pig, guitar, sleep, train, mine, cup, boots, block, duck, car, octopus, bird, ball, lobster, bug, rat, man, camera, airplane, glasses, powder, boat, battery, broke, door, hat, turtle, lion (she says “roar” instead, but we know what she means), elephant, mittens, mouse, window, apple, watch, horse, bee, bear, owl, zipper, snap, egg, button, six, cheese, phone, popcorn, bib, pick, cold, poop, pee, bye-bye, put, rubber band, spoon, ruler, off, brush, Rody (her rocking horse), inside, away, sun, moon, yes, butt, toast, chocolate, and read.
It is important to note that she cannot correctly pronounce all the words on the list. For example, Taylor’s word for grandpa is “gra-pa,” short the “nd.” Just the same, she will only say “gra-pa” when she’s shown a picture of my father or when she answers the question, “Who made this for Taylor?”– referring to her wooden chair or wood-turned bowl or box.
Is Taylor speaking? Sort of. She’s close; she’s getting there. We’ll see what happens in a month or two.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Object / Word Association.
I’ve started playing the guitar again. Well, let me be honest … I’ve started strumming the guitar strings in a fain attempt to raise my musical abilities above pallid mediocrity. This is the third year I’ve taken my guitar out of the closet and the fourth time I’ve tried to start playing it. Hopefully it will not be the fifth time I quit in so many years. Adrianne purchased the guitar for me, a Washburn, during my first-year teaching at South Burlington High School. I learned quite a bit from a new music teacher at the school and loved playing the few cords and one song I learned over a spotty couple of months of instruction. At the end of the school year, my one-year contract with the school was terminated due to budget constraints and my wife and I had to move. The move, like all moves, was all encompassing; I was forced to stop playing for several months. During my second teaching job, Monadnock Regional High School, I started playing several weeks into the first semester. I was getting pretty good for a while there, however, with the birth of our daughter Taylor in January I was forced to stop playing for the second time in less than a year. The next two start and stops pretty much followed the same pattern: new jobs, new kid, and another move. But now that we are finally settling into our new place, there is no reason why I cannot start playing “once again.”
Over the last couple of days I’ve performed an experiment, of sorts, with Taylor. Stacked in twelve colorful bins in the living room, we have a set of two-inch by two-inch alphabet wooden blocks laser engraved with a capital letter, a lower case letter, a number (1 – 26), and three animals or objects on them. One of the blocks, the G, has, of course, a capital G, a lower case g, the number seven, and a couple of pictures on it. One of the pictures is of a guitar. I’ve tried for the last two days to get Taylor to recognize the guitar picture and say the word “guitar.” Until this afternoon, she has not been able to. When asked to name the object, she would just look to me with a confused look on her face and ask for help. Today, however, I sat down with her and let her strum the strings of the guitar Adrianne bought me three years ago as I fingered the four cords I know and can play well. She loved it! After several minutes of this I presented her with the same G wood block. When shown, her face lit the room– she immediately made the connection between the picture of the guitar on the wooden block and the guitar I was holding and she was playing. While holding the block, I repeated the word guitar and tried to help her make the connection with the picture, the actual object she was strumming, and the word “guitar.” It took a few times, but within a few seconds she was saying, “gid-tar.” She got it!
Not long after my wife and I decided I would be the parent staying home I made a list of long-term goals I wanted to begin working towards with our kids before returning to teaching high school students. One of these goals was to expose them to something new every week. Within a short period of time I realized that this was an impossible task to maintain. Instead, I modified my original aim and decided that I would expose them to an adventure every week, some type of curiosity-arousing trip or activity, in or outside the home. I’ve done a pretty good job thus far, despite a number of unforeseen limitations we’ve experienced lately. This week, my little experiment with Taylor, letting her strum my guitar and then showing her a picture of a guitar to help her make the connections between the symbol and the actual object, has reinvigorated my aspirations to expose the kids to something new as often as possible. My kids, like all kids I assume, acquire new skills the quickest after they are exposed to new stimulus. In some ways, I already knew this. While teaching, parents and students always asked me to assign more “hands on” activities. (This is an example of where hands on and “real life” assignments are mistakenly used interchangeably). Regardless, this week I get to pat myself on the back for a job well done. Now if I can only get her to potty in her Dora the explorer toilet….
Over the last couple of days I’ve performed an experiment, of sorts, with Taylor. Stacked in twelve colorful bins in the living room, we have a set of two-inch by two-inch alphabet wooden blocks laser engraved with a capital letter, a lower case letter, a number (1 – 26), and three animals or objects on them. One of the blocks, the G, has, of course, a capital G, a lower case g, the number seven, and a couple of pictures on it. One of the pictures is of a guitar. I’ve tried for the last two days to get Taylor to recognize the guitar picture and say the word “guitar.” Until this afternoon, she has not been able to. When asked to name the object, she would just look to me with a confused look on her face and ask for help. Today, however, I sat down with her and let her strum the strings of the guitar Adrianne bought me three years ago as I fingered the four cords I know and can play well. She loved it! After several minutes of this I presented her with the same G wood block. When shown, her face lit the room– she immediately made the connection between the picture of the guitar on the wooden block and the guitar I was holding and she was playing. While holding the block, I repeated the word guitar and tried to help her make the connection with the picture, the actual object she was strumming, and the word “guitar.” It took a few times, but within a few seconds she was saying, “gid-tar.” She got it!
Not long after my wife and I decided I would be the parent staying home I made a list of long-term goals I wanted to begin working towards with our kids before returning to teaching high school students. One of these goals was to expose them to something new every week. Within a short period of time I realized that this was an impossible task to maintain. Instead, I modified my original aim and decided that I would expose them to an adventure every week, some type of curiosity-arousing trip or activity, in or outside the home. I’ve done a pretty good job thus far, despite a number of unforeseen limitations we’ve experienced lately. This week, my little experiment with Taylor, letting her strum my guitar and then showing her a picture of a guitar to help her make the connections between the symbol and the actual object, has reinvigorated my aspirations to expose the kids to something new as often as possible. My kids, like all kids I assume, acquire new skills the quickest after they are exposed to new stimulus. In some ways, I already knew this. While teaching, parents and students always asked me to assign more “hands on” activities. (This is an example of where hands on and “real life” assignments are mistakenly used interchangeably). Regardless, this week I get to pat myself on the back for a job well done. Now if I can only get her to potty in her Dora the explorer toilet….
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Exercise And Kids
Ever since I can remember, exercise has been a mainstay in my life. I’ve always been physically active, involved in organized sports, or preparing, completing and recovering from some sort of physical excursion; my wife even more so. When we first met she was running multiple nine-mile runs per week, working full-time, and enjoying an active social life. Together, we ran in several races, including half-marathons and a full marathon, a triathlon, and participated in 150 mile fund-raising bicycle rides. Now, on a good day, we are lucky to get out for a snail’s pace hour walk with the kids around the neighborhood, and that’s only if the weather cooperates.
I’ve been brainstorming these last couple of days on how to get back into a shadow of the shape I was once in before several major life changes took root. Between returning to graduate school, starting two new jobs in two years, and having two kids, I’ve put on some unwanted weight and lost some much desired muscle mass. In addition, with both kids still not sleeping through the night, the stress of the move and all things related to moving, Adrianne’s new job, establishing the kid’s new routines, and the general feeling that neither one of us has had decent consistent night’s sleep in at least two years, I need to be realistic about my New Year’s exercise goals. I know this. The reality is, however, can I tone down my aspirations for returning to peak performance shape and instead accept a wellness standard for myself instead?
First and foremost, the kids need to be squared away. There is no possible way my wife and I can add more stress to our bodies without increasing our recovery time from additional stresses. Unfortunately, the only thing we have less than money is free time. This move, a move we had to make, was suppose to propel us forward from where we have been stuck these last two years. I have yet to see that it has. Regardless, I do have a plan, at least a theory of how to add an exercise program to our schedules. We’ll see how things turn out soon enough.
I’ve been brainstorming these last couple of days on how to get back into a shadow of the shape I was once in before several major life changes took root. Between returning to graduate school, starting two new jobs in two years, and having two kids, I’ve put on some unwanted weight and lost some much desired muscle mass. In addition, with both kids still not sleeping through the night, the stress of the move and all things related to moving, Adrianne’s new job, establishing the kid’s new routines, and the general feeling that neither one of us has had decent consistent night’s sleep in at least two years, I need to be realistic about my New Year’s exercise goals. I know this. The reality is, however, can I tone down my aspirations for returning to peak performance shape and instead accept a wellness standard for myself instead?
First and foremost, the kids need to be squared away. There is no possible way my wife and I can add more stress to our bodies without increasing our recovery time from additional stresses. Unfortunately, the only thing we have less than money is free time. This move, a move we had to make, was suppose to propel us forward from where we have been stuck these last two years. I have yet to see that it has. Regardless, I do have a plan, at least a theory of how to add an exercise program to our schedules. We’ll see how things turn out soon enough.
Simon's Bedtime.
Last night (actually, the day I wrote this was a little bit ago) was Simon’s third day and fourth night falling asleep in his own room. For the last eight months we’ve been able to simply allow him to fall asleep at his leisure in his Fisher Price calming vibrations chair just about anywhere in the house without worrying if he’ll get enough sleep. He has been such a good baby. For months he’s been able to fall asleep without a care in the world: Taylor could be beating a drum three feet from his little head and Simon would snooze right through the noise; I could be watching Band of Brothers on the History Channel and Simon would snooze right through the shouting and shooting; or, our neighbors could be yelling smoke-laden obscenities at one another just outside our living room window– thank God we moved– and Simon would snooze right through the profane flurries of “f,” “b,” and “a” words. But recently, things have changed.
Simon can no longer fall asleep at will. He can no longer ignore extraneous noise like his sister playing grandpa’s chicken dance stuffed bird 15 times in a row, for instance. Over the last four days I’ve been implementing and shifting his nap and bedtime routine trying to find the best time to put him down for an afternoon nap or for bedtime at night. Thus far, while I’ve had some promising results, I haven’t been all that successful. This afternoon, for example, it took him 30 minutes to fall asleep. The good news is that he fell asleep, probably from sheer exhaustion, but he did eventually fall asleep in his own bed and in his own room. And tonight, to my yearning, he fell asleep in half that time.
I know all too well the need for young ones to have a consistent nap schedule. The first summer I had off with Taylor I could not seem to keep her naptime consistent. We were always hiking through the woods, going for walks around the block, or visiting friends or family. The price of such adventures always came around 5 or 6pm, hell hour. At that time of night, it’s too early for bedtime and much too late for her to take a nap. Incidentally, this was the same time her mother came home from work. Our hell hour lasted more than just one hour. Through trial and error I figured out her naptime should be at 1pm, regardless of how much grief she gave me. Now, a year later, I don’t even need to tell her it is her naptime. She tells me. For instance, this afternoon we were playing “follow Simon” when Taylor stopped, gathered her two blankets, her stuffed cat Smokey, both baby dolls, and pointed upstairs while saying, “Up!” Meaning she’s ready for her nap.
There is hope for the future. Simon will learn to fall asleep on his own. He will learn when his naptime is. He will learn when his bedtime is. I can only pray that he learns this soon. Hey, at least Taylor is able to nap even with her brother screaming in the neighboring bedroom!
Simon can no longer fall asleep at will. He can no longer ignore extraneous noise like his sister playing grandpa’s chicken dance stuffed bird 15 times in a row, for instance. Over the last four days I’ve been implementing and shifting his nap and bedtime routine trying to find the best time to put him down for an afternoon nap or for bedtime at night. Thus far, while I’ve had some promising results, I haven’t been all that successful. This afternoon, for example, it took him 30 minutes to fall asleep. The good news is that he fell asleep, probably from sheer exhaustion, but he did eventually fall asleep in his own bed and in his own room. And tonight, to my yearning, he fell asleep in half that time.
I know all too well the need for young ones to have a consistent nap schedule. The first summer I had off with Taylor I could not seem to keep her naptime consistent. We were always hiking through the woods, going for walks around the block, or visiting friends or family. The price of such adventures always came around 5 or 6pm, hell hour. At that time of night, it’s too early for bedtime and much too late for her to take a nap. Incidentally, this was the same time her mother came home from work. Our hell hour lasted more than just one hour. Through trial and error I figured out her naptime should be at 1pm, regardless of how much grief she gave me. Now, a year later, I don’t even need to tell her it is her naptime. She tells me. For instance, this afternoon we were playing “follow Simon” when Taylor stopped, gathered her two blankets, her stuffed cat Smokey, both baby dolls, and pointed upstairs while saying, “Up!” Meaning she’s ready for her nap.
There is hope for the future. Simon will learn to fall asleep on his own. He will learn when his naptime is. He will learn when his bedtime is. I can only pray that he learns this soon. Hey, at least Taylor is able to nap even with her brother screaming in the neighboring bedroom!
She's Growing.
This morning my wife Adrianne began her new job. She’s been working for years to obtain her new position. I am proud of her, her family is proud of her, and she is proud of herself. This morning was also my first day alone with the kids in over a month. I would like to boast that over the weekend I was not anxious about the change, but that would be a lie. The kids have grown so much in such a short period of time and the routines I had established with them have quickly whittled away during our packing, moving, and unpacking from our move to Pennsylvania.
Reviewing pictures and videos of the kids taken just a couple of weeks ago, and I can’t believe my eyes– my babies are growing up! Taylor, for instance, is now talking. She’s been saying words like cat, dog, pig, mamma, dad, etc. for a while, however, she is finally repeating words she might have only heard once or twice before; she is also putting several words together and forming rough sentences. These sentences, some distinguishable and others not so understandable are breathtaking to hear. My daughter is talking!
This morning she also had her first full-blown temper tantrum, another developmental milestone. Wow! What a time from hell. I’ve heard of the “terrible twos” but never did I expect the tantrums to be that bad. Looking back on the incident after a couple of hours of calm I still don’t know exactly what went wrong. She is definitely teething. She is picking at her molars like they are laced with gold and cradling her lower right jaw like it is a basket full of eggs. And before her naptime this afternoon, a little more than two hours after the meltdown, I could have sworn she asked for a cold teething toy (it sounded like she said chew toy, but I could not tell for sure and she would not repeat the words).
Before the tantrum, the morning started out just fine, actually it was perfect: both kids slept in, both allowed me to get the other one ready for the day without blowing a gasket, both pooped, both wanted to play and sing with daddy, and both were excited to go outside for a walk. Taylor, however, refused to eat her breakfast. While this is nothing new, she usually eats only a few bites of peanut butter toast, grapes, or drinks her orange juice in the morning, but today … nothing at all.
After our walk, Simon was ravenous. While trying to feed him, Taylor was all over me: climbing on my legs, pulling at my arms, crying, whining, begging for, what I thought to be, food. Hindsight, which has the advantage of being twenty-twenty, has me thinking that she didn’t need food as much as she needed comfort and some pain relief. Her teeth must have been killing her, but all I wanted to do was cram a few bites of yogurt down her throat. Yet, the more I tried to feed her the more, unknowingly, the more I upset her because I was unwittingly ignoring her needs. Well, to say she was not so happy with daddy this morning is an understatement. Would you believe my daughter bit my leg? Yes. The little chipmunk bit me! My first reaction, despite how purposely calm I had been during her screaming– counting slowly from one to ten does work– was to pick her up and throw her from the kitchen table into the living room. I was mad. But thank God man’s reasoning isn’t hampered until one’s emotions take over. With some one-on-one time, a short time-out in her bed, and a second or two to reflect on what other causes might have been the basis for her outburst, and a good 75-minute nap, Taylor spent the remainder of the afternoon in good spirits. So did I. Lesson learned: she’s growing.
Reviewing pictures and videos of the kids taken just a couple of weeks ago, and I can’t believe my eyes– my babies are growing up! Taylor, for instance, is now talking. She’s been saying words like cat, dog, pig, mamma, dad, etc. for a while, however, she is finally repeating words she might have only heard once or twice before; she is also putting several words together and forming rough sentences. These sentences, some distinguishable and others not so understandable are breathtaking to hear. My daughter is talking!
This morning she also had her first full-blown temper tantrum, another developmental milestone. Wow! What a time from hell. I’ve heard of the “terrible twos” but never did I expect the tantrums to be that bad. Looking back on the incident after a couple of hours of calm I still don’t know exactly what went wrong. She is definitely teething. She is picking at her molars like they are laced with gold and cradling her lower right jaw like it is a basket full of eggs. And before her naptime this afternoon, a little more than two hours after the meltdown, I could have sworn she asked for a cold teething toy (it sounded like she said chew toy, but I could not tell for sure and she would not repeat the words).
Before the tantrum, the morning started out just fine, actually it was perfect: both kids slept in, both allowed me to get the other one ready for the day without blowing a gasket, both pooped, both wanted to play and sing with daddy, and both were excited to go outside for a walk. Taylor, however, refused to eat her breakfast. While this is nothing new, she usually eats only a few bites of peanut butter toast, grapes, or drinks her orange juice in the morning, but today … nothing at all.
After our walk, Simon was ravenous. While trying to feed him, Taylor was all over me: climbing on my legs, pulling at my arms, crying, whining, begging for, what I thought to be, food. Hindsight, which has the advantage of being twenty-twenty, has me thinking that she didn’t need food as much as she needed comfort and some pain relief. Her teeth must have been killing her, but all I wanted to do was cram a few bites of yogurt down her throat. Yet, the more I tried to feed her the more, unknowingly, the more I upset her because I was unwittingly ignoring her needs. Well, to say she was not so happy with daddy this morning is an understatement. Would you believe my daughter bit my leg? Yes. The little chipmunk bit me! My first reaction, despite how purposely calm I had been during her screaming– counting slowly from one to ten does work– was to pick her up and throw her from the kitchen table into the living room. I was mad. But thank God man’s reasoning isn’t hampered until one’s emotions take over. With some one-on-one time, a short time-out in her bed, and a second or two to reflect on what other causes might have been the basis for her outburst, and a good 75-minute nap, Taylor spent the remainder of the afternoon in good spirits. So did I. Lesson learned: she’s growing.
Where Have I Been?
Nearly a year ago I wrote I’d be taking an unwelcome break because of the time dedication needed to complete an online college course. I passed the class and for about one hundred dollars– a processing fee for a paid State employee to do their job– secured my secondary teaching license for another three years. Thank you State of Vermont. Simon, our second child and our first son, was born about a month later, to the delight of all those family members who told us we “did it right this time” by having a boy. I know they meant well, no one would ever suggest having a girl was wrong, would they? Over the last several months, besides raising two children to the best of my ability, a toddler and an infant, I wrote a book, transcribed a memoir, had a poem published in two books of poetry, began a woodturning hobby, and moved my family to Pennsylvania. I’ve been busy; we’ve been busy. Time has just flown by.
This year, for one of my many New Year’s resolutions I’ve decided to return to writing for my blog, babytaylorandme. It’s not like I don’t have enough to do– getting the kids to eat solid foods, establishing new nap time routines, bedtime, bath, and eating routines; and one cannot forget potty training– but I need to write. At the very least, blogging lets me escape the daily drills of daddyhood for a few minutes every day.
Since we have recently moved away from my family and many of our friends, I hope blogging can help keep everyone up-to-date with our family’s doings, at least short snap shots of them. I have decided to modify the blog from writing merely instructional articles to writing about reflections on the life and wellbeing of the Gross family. Among many things, having a second child has forced me to reevaluate many of the initial decisions I made with our first: my unbending belief I was right and everyone else must be wrong, thinking there is a definite right and wrong way to raise a child, and shrugging even the best advice from seasoned parents of young children. While I still believe in some absolute right ways things should be done, I am much more open to suggestions and willing to sludge through what I believe to be advice grey areas while searching for that perfect “right” way to raise our kids– whether I have that proverbial warm and fuzzy feeling about the advice or not. Believe me, the change hasn’t been easy.
If you are returning to this blog, or maybe this is your first time visiting my site, I thank you. I’ll do my best to keep my writing interesting, informative, succinct, and fresh. I’m limiting my posting from 1500 words to about 500. This, more than anything else, will hopefully allow me to post at least once per week. Feel free to post comments or respond to the articles written; your opinions matter.
Take care,
Eric
This year, for one of my many New Year’s resolutions I’ve decided to return to writing for my blog, babytaylorandme. It’s not like I don’t have enough to do– getting the kids to eat solid foods, establishing new nap time routines, bedtime, bath, and eating routines; and one cannot forget potty training– but I need to write. At the very least, blogging lets me escape the daily drills of daddyhood for a few minutes every day.
Since we have recently moved away from my family and many of our friends, I hope blogging can help keep everyone up-to-date with our family’s doings, at least short snap shots of them. I have decided to modify the blog from writing merely instructional articles to writing about reflections on the life and wellbeing of the Gross family. Among many things, having a second child has forced me to reevaluate many of the initial decisions I made with our first: my unbending belief I was right and everyone else must be wrong, thinking there is a definite right and wrong way to raise a child, and shrugging even the best advice from seasoned parents of young children. While I still believe in some absolute right ways things should be done, I am much more open to suggestions and willing to sludge through what I believe to be advice grey areas while searching for that perfect “right” way to raise our kids– whether I have that proverbial warm and fuzzy feeling about the advice or not. Believe me, the change hasn’t been easy.
If you are returning to this blog, or maybe this is your first time visiting my site, I thank you. I’ll do my best to keep my writing interesting, informative, succinct, and fresh. I’m limiting my posting from 1500 words to about 500. This, more than anything else, will hopefully allow me to post at least once per week. Feel free to post comments or respond to the articles written; your opinions matter.
Take care,
Eric
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