back home and such

We’re back home now, as promised. We pulled into our driveway at around 12:30 Sunday night. We’ve been catching up with various things, such as phone calls and emails. And sleep. I’ve been pretty wiped out, though.

Tomorrow I head into town for my first work meeting of the new year. I don’t really have time to write much, as I have things to do to prepare, and am also going to try to get a workout.

So, I offer up a couple of photos of Phoebe from our travels to illustrate some of the range of emotions she can show.

Glee:
gleeful_phoebe.jpg

Gloom:
gloomy_phoebe.jpg

oof

Here I am again. Not home, but not where I was last time. We’re now down in New York to visit John’s parents for a post-Christmas Christmas celebration. Phoebe will find herself believing that Christmas is a holiday that features no fewer than 5 present-opening sessions…

We took the red eye back to Boston Thursday night, and our eyes were appropriately red when our flight landed at 6:00 a.m. on Friday. Phoebe got some sleep in my arms, but I couldn’t get too comfortable, largely because I was often trying to keep Phoebe from kicking or poking the passenger next to me, and well, because I had a toddler on my lap in a cramped space. (I was very resentful to see that there were empty seats on the plane, but that they weren’t offered to the people traveling with a toddler-in-lap.) John got no sleep. The flight was otherwise pretty uneventful, as was our drive back home from the airport. We were immensely relieved to see that the reported snow had melted from our driveway, and that we could pull in without shoveling and chiseling at ice.

The plan was to then pack up and head right down to New York, as one of John’s sisters was visiting his parents for a few days. Since John got no sleep on the flight, we deemed it wise to delay for a bit and get some sleep before the 4-ish hour drive. John went to bed after dealing with some work, and then I thought Phoebe and I could get some rest, too. However, seeing as Phoebe had actually slept on the plane (as well as while she was carried out of the plane, while we
got our bags, and went back to the car, not to mention more sleep in the car), she was less interested in sleep, and more interested in being reunited with her toys and books.

Anyhow, I did get about 3 hours of sleep yesterday, John got a bit more than that, and we headed down in the evening. We didn’t really even repack. We just unloaded a few gifts we’d received, and loaded up a few gifts to give, and lugged down our big suitcases full of dirty clothes. At least that way we knew we’d have what we needed.

We head back home tomorrow evening.

As you might guess, things have been rather busy. Good, but busy. I have spent whole days without even opening my laptop, and have had scant actual time to myself for the past couple of weeks that didn’t involve being in a bathroom. (A shower is a glorious thing, by the way.)

Work stuff has been piling up, which I’ll need to get to soon. I see that I have several important emails to respond to, which will involve some actual thinking. An important abstract is due in just over 2 weeks. I have loads to do to prepare for the course I’ll be co-teaching in January. (I’m in denial that January technically begins in a few days.) On the exciting front, though, John got me some really sweet recording equipment for Christmas that I’ll be able to use for my research. I now have a USB pre-amp to use with my laptop that was recommended by my advisor.

I also have over 500 unread blog posts. I think I need to cut down. (But I’ll try to drop in a say “hello” over the next few days. Even if I have to take my laptop into the shower to accomplish this.)

here I am

Just in case anyone out there is wondering where I am, I am not where I usually am. We’re out in California to have Christmas with my mother, sister, brother-in-law and nephew. Things got pretty hectic with work and pre-travel preparations before our Wednesday departure (not to mention general burnout from having too much going on), and I didn’t even manage to get online out here till late last night. But here I am. The trip is going well so far, but things are still busy.

Also, here is a recycled picture from our last vist out here to distract you from the complete lack of content.

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butterflies

My violin recital¹ was today. I tend not to think of myself as having a lot of performance anxiety, but I guess I have my share.

I’ve been playing the violin for 4 years, now. Learning more than playing, really. I have a lot of other things going on in my life, so I haven’t yet achieved a level that would merit the statement “I play the violin.” But I keep at it. I enjoy it. I have a wonderful teacher, who is very patient and encouraging.

I wanted to take part in the recital in large part because I knew that it would motivate me to push myself. I like working on a piece for an extended period of time, as I can really feel that I’m making progress. And the piece that I played, by Leopold Mozart (as in father to Wolfgang Amadeus) was, no doubt, the hardest piece I’ve played so far. One particular challenge for me is that it calls for lots of double stops, the violin equivalent of a chord, where two strings are bowed at the same time. It involved very careful fingering and bowing, and I managed to achieve some things that I had not yet managed. I got to know the piece quite well. In fact, I memorized it, without actually meaning to. I discovered that I could play it with my eyes closed. (In fact, I did a couple of times when I had to practice but was too tired to focus on the sheet music.)

But the trouble is, even though I could play the piece, I never managed to play it consistently well. The hardest part was always the beginning, as in just starting. (I could play the same section much better the second time around when it was repeated for the end of the piece.) Sometimes it would sound good, but not always.

I tried recording myself so I could listen to it, thinking that I was judging myself too harshly. But the recording only confirmed for me that I just didn’t sound so great. I would offer to share with you the recording, but seriously, I’m embarrassed by it.

In spite of this, I hadn’t been stressing terribly about the recital. For one thing, most of the other participants are also not so great. (My violin teacher once told me that I’m her best adult student. Of course, most of her students are kids, and there are a couple of teenagers who are really good. And I mean really good.) For another thing, I knew that very few people would actually see me playing, as the audience typically consists of a few family members of the students. Usually their parents. I would have John and Phoebe in the audience, but they already know all too well what I sound like. So I knew that even if I messed up, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But a big reason I hadn’t been stressing too much was that, quite honestly, there have been quite a lot of other things on my mind and on my metaphorical plate.

So I was caught off guard when I woke up this morning with what’s often known as butterflies in my stomach. The sounds coming from my stomach reminded me more of early 80s arcade games (Space Invaders, anyone?) than the fluttering of lepidoptera wings. But what the hell. Butterflies.

I practiced a bit before we left, and was determined to keep my hands warm. I play clumsily when my fingers are cold. The trouble is, it’s December, and I tend to get cold hands and feet. So sitting around before the recital started, I worked at warming my hands up. And was startled to discover that my hands were sweaty, even though they were still cold. And I’m not even prone to sweating.

I was second in the program, and the teenage girl who played ahead of me was good. As in, why-the-hell-am-I-playing-right-after-her good. Then it was my turn. I went on the little stage, put my sheet music on the stand, took a deep breath, and started in. It was a duet with my teacher, and we got off to a pretty good start. But then my arm started shaking. Not a huge amount, but enough to mess up my bowing. The result, while not devastatingly awful, was that I messed up more than usual. And, well, it didn’t sound great.

recital.jpgWe stayed for a bit after I played, and listened to a few of the kids who played after me. (Because it turned out there were only kids. The recital was split into two times, and apparently the 3 or 4 other adult students were all going in the second.) Most of the kids we heard were actually playing piano, since my teacher also teaches piano. But I did get to hear a couple of violins after me. And I’m happy to say that they sounded pretty bad, and with much less complex pieces. Of course, they were under 8. But I must take my comfort where I can find it. Even if it means mocking a cute little six-year-old behind her back.

Anyhow, it’s over. The butterflies (or aliens) departed quite unceremoniously from my stomach. And even though I’m not thrilled with how I did during the recital, I’m very glad I did it.

————
¹ Have you ever noticed that recital is one letter off from rectal?

lightbulb jokes

Yes, I admit it. I got a bit burnt out in the blogging business. 40 posts in 30 days is too, too much. And I have far too many blogs in my feedreader. And I’m busy with work. And busy with life. And I’m just really tired. I need to go to sleep.

So, even though I have a bunch of posts in progress, and owe some stories based on that done/not done checklist, I’m just going to post a couple more jokes. Many of our last round of jokes featured the theme of “walking into a bar.” (Thank you for all those contributions, folks.) Here I give the other perennial favorite, the lightbulb joke.

These two lightbulb jokes are my favorites, and I’ll give you a bonus story. I first heard them while on a boat going down the Amazon, sitting around on hammocks. On Thanksgiving day, no less. That would have been in 1991. There were other jokes, and plenty of other tales from that trip, but here are two jokes that I can share quickly. (And yes, I realize that they are pretty similar.):
light_bulb_black_bg.png

    Q: How many mice does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
    A: Two, but they have to be pretty small mice.

    Q: How many flies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?
    A: Two, but how do you get them in there?

Please share your lightbulb jokes with me. Pretty please?

have you ever?

I made it through November with my 30 posts for 30 days. (40, if you want to add in those I did for the Ministry of Silly Blogs.) It wasn’t particularly hard for me to come up with topics for daily posts (though it was sometimes hard to work up the motiviation to post at all.) I didn’t manage to do too well on the list of my intended topics

Another thought I’d had was to do a meme I’d seen at Stretched to the Limit, which had a big old checklist of things done in one’s life. Many of the things I’ve done on the list have some sort of story behind them, and I thought I’d work my way through some of them. In fact, I still might do that. But probably not for last month.

The instructions are to bold the “done” things. I’ve also gone and italicized things that I haven’t quite done, but where I have a story related to that thing. (It’s kind of a weird list of things, and it makes me curious about the origins. It reminds me a bit of the drinking game “I never,” or a related game where people state something they’ve always wanted to do but haven’t done.)

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg [I’m assuming this doesn’t mean the lettuce]
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper [duh]
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity [possibly]
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope [probably]
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse [maybe]
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and didn’t care who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach [may not have been actually midnight]
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain [probably]
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Gotten flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents [not taking this literally]
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children [I don’t think quite yet]
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Passed out cold
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach [possibly]
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad – and the Odyssey [just the Odyssey]
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

So it looks like I’ve done 56 things on the list. How many have you done?

I’d love to take requests for stories or details on any of the above listed items. You could just pick a number, or several. At random, even. And I may even treat you to the tale of how I once ate sushi when I had dyed hair.

——–

¹ I guess this is my NaBloPoMo Post Mortem. My NaBloPoMoPoMo, if you will. It’s probably not post modern enough to be a PoMoNaBloPoMoPoMo, though.

murmurs

Phoebe’s last doctor’s appointment was a while ago now. Her 18 month appointment. (She’s now 21 months old.)

For those of you who haven’t taken a baby on a well visit to the doctor, they tend to follow a predictable pattern, at least in our experience. You go into a room strip the baby down. A nurse weighs the baby, and measures the baby’s length and head circumference. Then you wait a bit and the pediatrician comes in. She looks over the measurements, and pokes and prods the baby. Looks in ears and mouth, listens to lungs and heart. Asks questions about development. How much milk does she drink? Does she still drink from a bottle? Eating solid foods? Using a spoon? Is she babbling? Yodling? Falling asleep on her own? Crawling? Walking? Dancing?

We answer the questions, and it being us, we joke around a bit with the doctor. Happily, she has a sense of humor and understands when we are joking. The visit goes pretty uneventfully, typically. We learn that Phoebe is big and tall for her age. We rattle off some of her accomplishments. Things are all smooth sailing till the doctor leaves and the nurse comes in to give the shots. And then it’s over till next time.

But this last time there were a couple of things that caught me by surprise. One was that the doctor heard a heart murmur. And the other was that she thought that Phoebe’s speech was lagging.

After the visit, we got the referral for the cardiologist to check on the murmur. We weren’t too worried, as the doctor didn’t think it was likely to be a troublesome murmur. But of course we followed through. We wouldn’t take risks with Phoebe’s heart. We sought the expert opinion. And the cardiologist confirmed that the murmur is completely benign.

The speech part of the story is ongoing.

Phoebe is a quiet child, for the most part. She takes after her parents. She started saying a few words at around 12 months old, and over the following months added quite a lot of words. But the thing is, she would use a word for a day or two, and then move on to the next word. We wouldn’t hear the word again in most cases. Turtle was a favorite word for quite a while, and then yellow, and then uh-oh. And there would be all sorts of other words she’d use only once or twice, often carefully articulating. Shoe. Puzzle. Rubberband. She spent a whole day working on getting the production of hat just right, getting the /h/, and the vowel and fully released /t/ out there in a careful sequence.

So when the doctor asked for a list of words that Phoebe used regularly and consistently, we didn’t really have much of a list to offer. That wasn’t what Phoebe was doing. We could remember maybe 2 or 3 words. Ball. Uh-oh. No. There were a couple of signs and gestures, too.

What’s funny is that I have studied language development in classes, and have read a textbook or two, and attended lots of conference talks on the subject. But up to that visit, I hadn’t really given much thought to whether Phoebe’s development was on schedule. I had noticed that Phoebe was not doing the things the textbooks had described, but I figured that intro textbooks tend to overgeneralize, and that individual babies have different patterns. Actually, I still think this is the case. Phoebe was using language productively, and showing remarkable comprehension of even quite complex sentences and structures. It hadn’t occurred to me to worry. So when the doctor mentioned that she thought Phoebe was behind in her speech, and that she recommended that we get an evaluation for early intervention, I was quite startled. My first first reaction was that this wasn’t necessary. But I agreed that we would take the information and consider it before the next well visit, which wouldn’t be till Phoebe turns two.

The doctor said that at 18 months, a child should be using at least 5 or 6 words consistently. I thought our list wasn’t that far off, especially as we drove home from that visit. I remembered a few more words here and there. I realized that had I been more fully prepared, I could have presented a list of 6 or so words. And perhaps the doctor would have just taken the list as adequate to meet the criteria of her checklist.

John was a late talker. His mother doesn’t remember the details of when he started talking, but remembers that she had a sign up over his bed saying that Einstein didn’t talk till he was 4 years old, or some such. John’s family says that once he started talking, he was using complete sentences. So it doesn’t seem too surprising that Phoebe is taking after her father. She has been a cautious child, much like John was, I’m told.

But the truth is, I’ve had murmurs of doubt. I know that children do vary a lot in their paths through language development. I’ve seen that other kids were much more verbal at Phoebe’s age, and even younger. A baby who lives next door to John’s parents was producing about 60 words consistently by the time she was 14 months. A friend’s daughter was saying all kinds of words when I’d seen her when she was 16 months, making requests, chattering away. I don’t necessarily think Phoebe needs to be as verbal as those other kids, but I sometimes wonder.

She does a lot of pointing. We do a lot of 20 questions, trying to figure out what she wants. We communicate quite a lot, and things go quite smoothly most of the time. She makes observations. She names objects. She responds to questions. She’s produced a few two-word combinations. There are times when she says fairly long things which we can mostly decipher, though other times when we have no idea. She has lately even gotten better at producing words on request, as in answering “what’s that?” or “what does a dog say?” And she’ll say “please,” now, on request. Which is so freakin’ cute I can’t even tell you.

She’ll say “more” if she wants something, and point, but beyond that it’s as if she hasn’t fully figured out that she can use words to make requests. She’s been getting better at this, though. But still, every once in a while, she gets frustrated. I can’t tell what she’s pointing at. Or guess what she wants to do.

I sometimes read about the verbal progress of kids Phoebe’s age, or younger, and I feel little pangs. I know she’ll be talking soon enough. But I do sometimes get impatient to reach that next stage. And I would really love it if she called me something. She knows I’m Mommy, but she never calls me that. She doesn’t call for me. For a while she called me Ada, which I realized came from “other.” (Maybe I’ll share the story some time.) She has said Daddy for a while, but there was a stretch when she’d use it to mean “good-bye.” She’s now started to say “bye,” but may have stopped saying Daddy.

Anyhow, the upshot is that we are having the early intervention evaluation. I realized that even though I know quite a bit about language development, I am not an expert, and I certainly don’t have a clinical background. I didn’t feel like the suggestion that we see a cardiologist was somehow a criticism of us or our parenting abilities, so it shouldn’t be any different for this. I still have this nagging feeling that they’ll tell us we’re doing something wrong, or that they’ll tell us we’re overreacting. And while I have decided that I am 85% sure that they will think that Phoebe is on track, I have realized that I don’t want to withhold from Phoebe anything that might be beneficial to her, such as early intervention services. Certainly not out of some sense of pride.

So some people are coming over to our house bright and early tomorrow morning. (Or this morning, if you want to get technical, since it’s after midnight.) Which means I should be cleaning, and not writing this. Because I can’t quite get over the feeling that they will be evaluating us, and not just Phoebe’s language.

support

Even though I had some things in mind, I’m really too tired to post much of anything creative. I’ve been staying up too late again, and perhaps pushing myself a bit hard. And I have some more work I’ve committed to doing tonight, if I can manage to keep my eyes open.

But I’ve been wanting to say some thank yous.

I really appreciate all the comments that people have left recently, especially on the posts where I have been writing about my grief. People have offered wise advice and shoulders to cry on, and I have been very touched by the sympathy and empathy. I have wanted to respond to each comment, but I have been feeling emotionally drained. I may yet manage to reply, but if I don’t, please know that I have read and valued those comments.

And for others of you who have read and thought sympathetic thoughts, I thank you, too.

I have also been very fortunate to have support from other friends and my family. I’m someone who likes to feel like I’m there to help others in times of need, and it’s been very heartwarming to know that people are there for me, too. I sometimes stubbornly like to think of myself as self-sufficient, but I know that my strength comes in large part from the support of those who care about me.

As you might expect, I am still working through my grief. But it has been very comforting to me to know that I don’t need to work through this alone.

What have you been up to, little girl?

upside-down.jpg

I’m terribly behind in updating the Phoebe Blog, where I try to document some of my daughter’s activities and accomplishments. That was my foray into blogging, and I still use the same software (iWeb) I started with. It’s somewhat cool in that I can compose everything on my computer and in that it links up automatically with my media files, but it has this irritating feature that doesn’t let you keep some drafts unpublished while you publish others. Since I now have about 10 drafts in various stages of completion, I’m pretty much stuck not publishing any of them till they’re all done. So the family doesn’t get to see what Phoebe’s up to.

Unless, of course, there’s an event like Phoebe’s run-in with the law yesterday morning. Then the whole family somehow learns. (Oh, right, now you want to know. Well, you know how some phones have an emergency number programmed into the speed dial? Did you know some phones have a big, pretty red button that is hooked up to such a number? Did you know that toddlers like to push buttons?)

We’re down at John’s parents for the holiday, by the way. We came down Tuesday night, to avoid the craziness of traffic that happens the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. We’ve driven up to visit John’s dad in the sub-acute care facility each day after Phoebe’s nap. There have been a lot of late nights, too. And yesterday there was a lot of cooking. (We packed up the feast to take up to John’s dad’s.) I made mashed potatoes, delicata squash (which is much safer to cut than KC’s Death Squash), and my famous stuffed pan. (I like stuffing, but not the things that tend to be stuffed with it. So I just make the stuffing.)

Also, at the moment, my feed reader folders are stuffed full of 272 unread messages. (158 of these can be blamed on people I just started reading with NaBloPoMo. Curse you, NaBloPoMoPeople. Curse yooooouuu! Oh, right. I’m guilty of this madness, too. Curse me! Curse meeeeee!) I’m not quite sure when I’ll be able to catch up. Make that “if.”