Baby Signs

We do baby sign language. That is, we do our own version of baby sign language. Rumor has it that boy babies are not as quick to learn to speak as girl babies. I have also seen a few people who do signing with their kids, and I figured I would give it a shot. I know a little bit of sign language, but not much. I started signing with Ike when he was about eight months old. Mostly I focused on two signs - "more" and "all done." I did my own versions of these signs because I remembered them incorrectlly (as I later learned). I did these signs very diligently when feeding Ike because I wanted him to be able to communicate with me. On Christmas day, when Ike was just over one year old, he signed "more" for the first time. So, it took four months for him to independently give me a message via a sign.

This picture is of him signing "more" to my friend, Priscilla, who was feeding him yogurt covered pretzels.

 

I feel like doing a few signs has been a good communication tool for us. First of all, he says about a dozen words now, and several of those I would not recognize as words if it weren't for the fact that they are accompanied by signs. For example, his word for "drink" sounds a lot like "jurrr." I think he's trying to make the "dr" sound. Anyway, if it weren't for the accompanying sign, it would have taken me a long time to figure that one out. "Ka" is his word for "milk." Definitely needed the sign to know what he was talking about with that one. (He also says "ka" for "book.")

I have also worked very hard on "please" and "thank you." He knows these words very well, and he knows that I expect him to jump through the speaking and signing hoops to get what he wants. Other adults are not as diligent in making him use his manners words, but I mean business about those. Both of those signs are now accompanied by verbal words that are actually fairly understandable. On occasion he has told me "thank you" without being reminded. I have also given the queue "ask nicely" when encouraging him to sign "please." Consequently when he is in a grumpy mood and being a stinker, when I tell him to "be nice" he sometimes signs and says "please." I find it very amusing that he associates "please" with "nice."

Somebody asked me if I think that signing has delayed his speech. He's right on target for how many words he's supposed to be saying. I suppose it's possible that signing has made him more reliant on his hands than his mouth, but I'm just not that worried about it. If signing has delayed his speech, I think the delay is marginal.And besides, it's made my life so much easier to know what the heck he wants.We still do the signs he knows, but I am not teaching him any new signs. He talks enough that I am focusing more on getting him to say new words than on singing new words.

26 Weeks

Actually, this was 26 weeks and 2 days. I wore this top (with a black skirt) to church on Sunday and I had a few people comment that I was finally looking pregnant. Others were surprised to know I was pregnant at all.

I like this top because it is not a maternity top, but it I can totally keep wearing it for a long time. Plus it's one of only a few non-solid tops that I own.

In totally unrelated news to pregnancy or anything, I got stung by a wasp today. Twice. Boohoo. I had been watering the plants outside when I heard Ike scream and cry. He was around the front of the house where a known wasp nest has been unsuccessfully attacked with poison. I immediately thought he might have been stung and ran to rescue him. When I saw him on the steps I wasn't sure if he had been stung and then had fallen or perhaps had just fallen. In my swift mama bear rescue, the wasps, who were already agitated about us being outside to begin with, attacked me as I grabbed Ike and rushed into the house. I brought the child upstairs and took off his clothes which were soaking wet from him "helping" me water the plants. I didn't see any wasp stings, so I think he just fell down, which is something he does all the time. That was a boring story, so just enjoy the part where I have a slightly pregnant belly.

Also enjoy how the front of my hair is so blonde. And maybe also notice the little farmer's tan on my arm. Thanks, gardening!

Fuzzy Memories

A real conversation Eric and I had this morning:

Eric: Hey, Ike is 19 months old today!
Me: Oh, is it the sixth?
Eric: No, it's the seventh. I guess it was yesterday.
Me: I'm sorry I didn't provide you with an easier date to remember. [Referring to the fact that our boy was born one day ahead of the anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor.] I guess I should have let my labor last a few more hours.
Eric: Yeah, like 11 more hours.
Me: What? No, only like 5.
Eric: He was born at like 1 in the afternoon.
Me: No, he wasn't. He was born at like 7 at night.
Eric: Was it really that late? I didn't think it lasted that long.

I then told him that I knew it was pretty late because by the time I was all finished up the kitchen was closed so my dinner consisted of a packed lunch rather than a hot meal. He seemed to not remember that at all. I am glad to think that the day flew by for him. It should be a good sign regarding how he feels about accompanying me through the birth of this next kid.

Salads

One of the things you learn very quickly if you live in Utah is that folks here like Jello. It is frequently referred to as "salad."

I've recently been given a stack of recipe cards that belonged to Eric's maternal grandmother. She died when Eric's mom was just a baby, so whether these were her favorite, tried and true recipes, or simply a stack of cards that were given and exchanged at a women's group and then stored in a kitchen drawer indefinitely, we may never know. (Actually, this is now on my list of questions to ask as soon as I die.)

At any rate, they certainly provide a humorous glimpse at the culinary styles of Utah women in the 1950s. The stack is large and comprised primarily of casseroles (with nearly every casserole being held together with cream of something soup), desserts, and "salads."

I am not a fan of Jello. The texture is totally weird to me, and I avoid eating it when I can. (Twice since my moving to Utah in 2003 I have been served Jello directly on my plate and have been obligated to eat it. Once was on Easter at Janssen's grandparents' house, and the other time was on Thanksgiving at Eric's aunt and uncle's house. I survived both times.)

I couldn't resist perusing the Jello recipes and seeing what kind of cooky concoctions these women liked.

This one caught my eye because it is called Waldorf Salad. Only, it has Jello and bananas in it in addition to the traditional celery, apple, whipped cream and nuts. I suppose it is reasonable as a fruit salad recipe, but it certainly is not a traditional Waldorf salad.

The most classic crazy Jello recipe stories usually involve carrots. This one has shredded carrots and pineapple. This is of course not something that really appeals to me, but I suppose I can see how some might find it appealing.

This next one is a strange mixture of sweet and savory. Who wouldn't want to eat finely chopped cucumber and celery mixed with lime Jello prepared with pineapple juice?

But of course, things are getting weirder. Make lemon Jello with hot chicken soup or chicken gumbo soup. Then add diced celery, chopped nuts and flaked tuna. Yum!

If tuna isn't your protein of choice, you can always try a variation that uses lemon Jello, made with (I assume beef) broth, celery, bell pepper, onion and corned beef. I do not make this up, folks. It is for real.

 

Next time I'm asked to bring a salad to a pot-luck sort of function, it will be hard to know which one to choose. I can assure you that whichever one I do choose, I'll take a picture so you can pin it on Pinterest and add it to your "Looks SOOOOOO YuMmY!!!111!!!" board.

When Mom is Doped Up

In my "Whirlwind Weeks" post I mentioned that something amusing had happened on a day when I wasn't feeling well. Here's the story (and photo!):

On Wednesday throughout the day I felt pretty blah. Eric came home from work and took a nap because he felt the same. Ike seemed to be a slower version of his normal self, although he didn't seem to have any particular symptoms. I spent the evening trying to distract myself from my nausea and actually getting a fair amount of work done once the boy went down to bed. As I was getting ready for bed I remembered that I have a prescription for an anti-nausea medicine. My doctor gave it to me at my very first appointment because I had such severe migraines for the first few weeks of my pregnancy. These particular migraines were often accompanied by fairly bad nausea, so my doctor gave me prescriptions for both the migraines and the nausea. I had only taken maybe two of the anti-nausea pills because after getting the prescriptions filled I rarely had migraine or nausea problems. (Hooray!) One thing I knew for sure from taking the nausea medicine was that it worked, and it totally knocked me out. Not only that, but I frequently found it hard to get over the accompanying exhaustion, long after the pill had worn off.

Still, in great need of a good night's sleep and knowing that my nausea would keep me up all night, I decided to take one of those anti-nausea pills. It worked. I was able to sleep.

Only I wasn't really able to wake up on Thursday morning. I woke up a little bit, and I was dimly cognizant of the things going on around me, but mostly I was in some sort of anti-nausea drug hangover. I know Ike slept in quite late that morning - I think close to 8, which is really a big deal in our house. I vaguely remember Eric getting Ike out of bed and bringing him to our room as he got ready for work and headed out the door.

At some point I got up and got the child some milk and tried to feed him breakfast. He wasn't interested. I also changed a diaper. I also broke my "binkies are for bedtime" rule and gave my child a binkie, primarily so he would be a little more pacified and calm about the fact that I was 100% completely ignoring him. And then I went back to sleep. I dozed off and on for the next little while. I could hear Ike rummaging through bathroom cabinets, emptying laundry bins, throwing toys down the stairs and generally being a toddler. As time wore on I heard not a lot of noise at all, except for the consistent sucking on the pacifier. It was lovely and helped me sleep better.

Then somebody from work called and asked me to take care of some work stuff that was fairly urgent. I was finally able to pull myself out of bed. And I found this on my bedroom floor:

Yes, his shirt says "Crabby." No, it does not fit his personality at all.

I snapped this picture with my super awesome flip-phone camera, and then I moved Ike to his bed.

I did the work stuff, then went back to sleep until 1, in case you were wondering. Then I got up, and Ike followed shortly thereafter. (Yes, the child napped from roughly 10-1:30. He's a gem.) I still managed to put in like three hours of work that day. And I managed to get dressed and get my child dressed before Eric got home. It was a good day.

Summer Safety

Two summers ago I pulled a struggling nephew out of a pool. He had gone in without his floaties. It was a terrifying experience for me, and I'm certain it scared the daylights out of him too. It wasn't until last summer that I realized how much danger my nephew truly was in on that afternoon in Park City in August 2010. This article has been widely shared on Facebook and throughout the interwebs, and if you haven't read it yet, please do it right now. In short, drowning does not look like drowning. We are so accustomed to the dramatizations of drownings that we've seen on TV and in the movies, but those are not realistic. When a person is in true distress they can be hardly noticeable.

In this hemisphere it is summer. Be aware of the people around you in pools, especially children. Read the article. Recognize the signs. Be safe.