Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Learning to Speak

Helping three small children learn to speak creates some interesting moments.  Dinner last night was punctuated by Cora repeating one by one all the bad words she has learned in English, waiting for the reaction and then repeating the suggested substitutes.  This is advanced language. 

Nyobi is learning enunciation.  Removing her nuky from her mouth creates three or four words distinguishable sentences.  "Ice Cube Please Mom"  is one of my favorite. "I like coffee, MMMM"  is another.

My favorite is Anya though.  She can say Mama.  "Caaa" for Cora.  "Kiii" for Kitty.   "NNNNN"  for nyobi, and "IEAAAIE" for Dad.   Right now she is saying "WAAAH  punctured by "YAAAAA"  because I'm not holding her.   Laptop time has ended. 

Monday, July 5, 2010

Exiting an Age

Yesterday I started the process of clothing shifting.  Most people change over their clothes in the spring and fall to match the season they are about to enter.  I am changing them in accord with life seasons rather than the four seasons of the year.  I took down the changing table, put away the baby burp cloths, and removed all the 0-3 months and 3-6 months clothes from the room.  I threw in recieving blankets, infant bath supplies and the bumper set that now only serves as a foot boost towards escape.

As my "going" pile grew, I realized that this was the exit of an age.  Next time I went through the room I would be removing the rest of the infant-esque clothes and putting toddler wear in the drawers.  As I found the small anklets that my three daughters wore home from the hospital, I felt a pang of remorse.  It is a very sacred gift to be able to create life.  To carry a child under your heart, and prepare a safe haven for it to emerge and begin life.  It is a gentle gift to care and nurture a newborn. 

Then Anya smiled up at me from a pile of stained clothes whose destination was the trash heap.  There were two teeth and a wad of indistinguishable paper in the smile.  As I reached over a pile of diapers to remove the mashed up pulp, my remorse vanished.  As if to hammer the point home, my elder two children started to bicker from the living room. 

I might be exiting an age, but we are entering a life of constant adventure.  Now I must nurture these small beings with my mind and heart not just my body.     There would be new mysteries rather than the mystery of babies.

For instance, what WAS this wad of paper before it was gummed up?