just go read (please)

The Just Posts are up again, and this time, it’s the first anniversary of the social justice wedding that started it all. Go have a look at the posts that are listed at jen’s, mad’s, susanne’s and hel’s. As usual, you can find posts on a range of topics of social justice and activism to get the blood pumping in your activist heart.

I’d also like to direct you to a post that jen put up just this morning. Jen writes beautifully and powerfully about her work in a homeless shelter, and the range of people she meets in her work. I often find myself trying to figure out more ways that I can make a difference, and reading jen’s writing makes me feel more of a sense of urgency.

Looking for gift ideas? (or shamelessly promoting my sister)

I love to have a variety of different cloth kitchen towels around. My grandmother’s house had a collection of them, unique linens purchased around the world. I’ve inherited some of these linens, and have accumulated my own collection. Some were gifts, such as from family members’ travels to distant locales. I have penguins from Argentina, sheep from New Zealand, and a towel with an Aboriginal lizard design from Australia. Others were purchases I made because I liked the pattern or color. My most recent additions to this collection have been some of these:

tikoli2.jpg

They are modern and elegant, whimsical and colorful.

And what’s really cool is that I know the designer¹. In fact, I’ve known her all my life.

I’d like to take this opportunity to rave about my sister. And to promote the textile business that she recently started. Mostly, I want to offer up some reasons why you might want to consider buying some.

You can feel good about yourself for buying Tikoli tea towels because:

  • using cloth towels instead of paper towels reduces waste
  • buying them supports a small business owner
    • what’s more, the business owner is a woman
    • and that woman is also a new mother
    • and a very cool individual
  • the tea towels are lightweight, so their shipping impact is relatively small
  • they come with minimal packaging

Tikoli tea towels make good gifts because²:

  • they are functional and durable
  • They are low-priced, so that you can easily give 2 or 3 of different designs
  • they are compact and easy to wrap (or you can get them wrapped)
  • they are gorgeous

tikoli1.jpg

You can find these tea towels at the Tikoli online store, or at various retailers.
—————

¹ Oh, and if you want to feel like you know the designer yourself, you can pop by her blog pantry permitting and say “hi.” She’d love to meet you. You could swap recipes and have a cup of tea together.

² Incidentally, these tea towels were recently listed among the favorite gifts of a magazine. You might have heard of them. A little publication known as Newsweek (see item #24 of their online holiday gift guide).³

³ I’m allowed to boast because it’s my sister.

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?

I am not an accountant

Sometimes I forget to tell myself that. I’ve never been an accountant. Nor have I ever planned to be one. (Not that there’s anything wrong with accounting. I can see the appeal of putting things in order.) But this lack of accountancy in my life is usually not at the forefront of my mind.

Day after day I can go about my non-accounting-related business without once thinking, “hey, I’m not an accountant.”

But just a few days ago, I became truly aware of this. “I’m not in accounting!” I loudly proclaimed. And I realized how true a statement that was. And I have Blogger to thank for this epiphany.

You see, Blogger has made some changes to their comment forms. Now, instead of being able to type in my name and the URL for this blog when I leave a comment, I must choose between logging in with my Blogger ID, using a “nickname” (Should I have a nickname? What about Snake?), or being anonymous. So I’ve been using my Blogger ID more often lately. And on a whim, I decided to check out my minimalist Blogger profile. After all, someone might follow the link from a comment I leave here or there. (Well, not here. But there.) And imagine my surprise when I saw that my profile said I was in the field of accounting.

I quickly went to edit my profile, and select “not specified” for my field, since, shockingly, “linguistics” was not listed on the drop-down menu. When viewing the profile next, I was relieved to see that I was no longer masquerading as a grad student of accounting. But then I thought to myself, “maybe I should say a bit more about myself.” So I added a bit of stuff. And saved my profile. And lo and behold, I was once more in accounting. I went back in, changed the field. Saved the profile. All was well. But, oh crap, there was a typo in my link. Fixed it. Saved. Dammit, there was the frickin’ “accounting” thing again.

“I am not an accountant!” I cried. I felt I needed to affirm this. It’s been good to have this reminder.

I have a lot of trouble defining my identity. When asked for a description, I tend to give a list: student, wife, mother, friend, blah, blah, blah. It varies how many items I put on that list. But I have never once in my life listed “accountant” as an identity.

Of course, I have never listed “not an accountant,” either. And this opens up a whole realm of possible identities. I am also not a butcher, baker, candlestick maker, chiropractor, dancer, mime, mugger, jogger, juggler, or provost. The possibilities are staggering. But for now, at least, I can just remind myself that indeed, I am not an accountant.

candles at both ends

As the nights get longer up here in the Northern hemisphere, we look forward to having a bit more light. When you’re not in the mood for a lightbulb, you might consider lighting a candle.

Candles are used for a wide range of purposes: religious, decorative, symbolic, and as a light source for when the electricity goes out. Here’s a list of a few candle things and candle traditions to light up your evening on this Themed Thing Thursday.

A list with candles at both ends (and in the middle)

hanukiyot.jpg

  • Hanukkah
    The 8-day Jewish holiday, also known as the Festival of Lights, is observed in part by the nightly lighting candles in the Hanukkah Menorah, or Hanukiah. Today was the second day of Hanukkah. (Hanukiyot photo by photo by Beth Brewer.)
  • Christmas
    Candles are also featured in many celebrations of the Christian holiday Christmas, such as with advent candles. Other traditions include using candles to decorate, such as using them on trees. Contemporary Christmas tree lights evolved from this tradition, as electricity became available, though in Denmark, people still decorate Christmas trees with real lighted candles. People will also place candles in windows, a practice said to have been popularized in Colonial Williamsburg.
  • Lucia’s Day
    In Sweden, as part of the traditional celebration of this holiday (December 13th), girls will wear a wreath on the head with lit candles to celebrate Saint Lucia.¹ “>Apparently people have also moved to battery-operated candles:

    In Sweden we do not wear candles anymore because before girls caught their hair on fire very often. Today we use modern candles with batteries in them.

  • Birthday cakes are often decorated with miniature candles. The candles often represent the age of the person having the birthday, whether by using number-shaped candles, candles arranged in the shape of a number, or most often, a candle for each year of age.
  • Sixteen Candles (1984) A John Hughes movie starring Molly Ringwald as a girl whose 16th birthday is overlooked.
  • Candle in the Wind A song by Elton John (lyrics by Bernie Taupin) written in honor of Marilyn Monroe in 1973, rededicated it to AIDS victim Ryan White in 1990, and rewritten and remade in honor of Princess Diana in 1997.
  • The Babylon candle: A magic candle appears in the movie Stardust (2007), allowing the user to travel great distances. I found a suggestion that the source of the name for this candle is the nursery rhyme:

    How many miles to Babylon?
    Three score miles and ten.
    Can I get there by candlelight?
    Yes, and back again.

  • hold a candle to: an expression meaning “measure up to.” Usually used with a negative, as in: X can’t hold a candle to Y, A could never hold a candle to B, the word trousers doesn’t hold a candle to pants.
  • light a candle for: People will light a candle to show remembrance of someone (such as Yahrtzeit in Judaism) or in support of some cause, such as “lighting a candle for peace.” The phrase has also been used more generally as an expression, often interpreted as “say a prayer for,” possibly based on the tradition of lighting a candle in a church to accompany a prayer. The expression is also sometimes interpreted in reference to leaving a lit candle in the window as a beacon for a loved one who is away.
  • not worth the candle: an expression meaning worthless, or not worth the expense
  • burn a candle from both ends: an expression meaning get little sleep due to being busy from early in the morning till late at night, or to generally work too hard and spend energy recklessly:

    Our current understanding of this phrase refers to a life that is lived frenetically and unsustainably – working or enjoying oneself late into the night only to begin again early the next day. It didn’t having that meaning when it was first coined in the 18th century. The both ends then weren’t the ends of the day but were a literal reference to both ends of a candle. Candles were useful and valuable (see not worth the candle) and the notion of waste suggested by lighting both ends at once implied reckless waste. This thought may well have been accentuated by the fact that candles may only be lit at both ends when held horizontally, which would cause them to drip and burn out quickly.

  • You can also see a short movie of someone actually burning a candle at both ends. (YouTube)
  • —————–

    ¹ My friend Gregory, who recently moved to Sweden mentioned recently that he would soon be sharing some information on this tradition:

    They put candles everywhere except the roof of their cars (they do wear them on their heads, as I will explain in a couple of weeks)…

    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.